{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_22135/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_22135","id":"gutenberg_22135","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22135","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Ethics"],"text":"E-text prepared by Al Haines\n\n\n\nTranscriber's note:\n\n   Page numbers in this book are indicated by numbers enclosed in\n   curly braces, e.g. {99}.  They have been located where page\n   breaks occurred in the original book.  For its Index, a page\n   number has been placed only at the start of that section.\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE MORAL ECONOMY\n\nby\n\nRALPH BARTON PERRY\n\nAssistant Professor of Philosophy in Harvard University\n\nAuthor of\n\n  The Free Man and the Soldier\n  The Moral Economy\n  The Approach to Philosophy\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nCharles Scribner's Sons\nNew York -- Chicago -- Boston -- Atlanta\nSan Francisco -- Dallas\n\nCopyright, 1909, by\nCharles Scribner's Sons\nAll rights reserved. No part of this book\nmay be reproduced in any form without\nthe permission of Charles Scribner's Sons\n\n\n\n\nDEDICATED TO N.\n\nMARCH 30, 1909\n\n\n\n\n  \"Things and actions are what they are, and the\n  consequences of them will be what they will be;\n  why then should we desire to be deceived?\"\n\n  BISHOP BUTLER.\n\n\n\n\n{vii}\n\nPREFACE\n\nThis little book is the preliminary sketch of a system of ethics.  Its\nform differs from that of most contemporary books on the subject\nbecause of the omission of the traditional controversies.  I have\nattempted to study morality directly, to derive its conceptions and\nlaws from an analysis of life.  I have made this attempt because, in\nthe first place, I believe that theoretical ethics is seriously\nembarrassed by its present emphasis on the history and criticism of\ndoctrines; by its failure to resort to experience, where without more\nado it may solve its problems on their merits.  But, in the second\nplace, I hope that by appealing to experience and neglecting scholastic\ntechnicalities, I may connect ethical theory with every-day reflection\non practical matters.  Morality is, without doubt, the most human and\nurgent of all topics of study; and I should like, if possible, to make\nit appear so.\n\nThe references which I have embodied in the notes are intended to serve\nthe English reader as an introduction to accessible and untechnical\nliterature on the subjects treated in the several chapters.  These\nchapters coincide with the main divisions of ethical inquiry: Goodness,\nDuty, Virtue, Progress, Culture, and Religion.  And although so brief a\ntreatment of so large a programme is impossible without sacrifice of\nthoroughness, it does provide both a general survey of the field, and a\nvaried application of certain fundamental ideas.\n\nRALPH BARTON PERRY.\n  CAMBRIDGE, 1909.\n\n\n\n\n{ix}\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n                                                             PAGE\nMORALITY AS THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE . . . . . . . . . . . .    1\n\nI. THE GENERAL CLAIMS OF MORALITY  . . . . . . . . . . . . .    1\n\n  The practical necessity of morality, 1.  The interplay\n  of dogmatism and scepticism, 4.  The fundamental\n  character of morality, 7.\n\nII. GOODNESS IN GENERAL  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    9\n\n  The dependence of value on life, 9.  Definition of the\n  simpler terms of value.  Goodness: the fulfilment of\n  interest, 11.  \"Good\" and \"good for,\" 12.\n\nIII. MORAL GOODNESS  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   13\n\n  The moral organization of life, 13.  Definition of the\n  terms of moral value.  Moral goodness: the fulfilment of\n  an economy of interests, 15.  Moral goodness and\n  pleasure, 16.  Rightness or virtue, 18.  Morality and\n  life, 19.\n\nIV. MORALITY AND NATURE  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   20\n\n  The alleged artificiality of morality, 20.  Morality\n  and the struggle for existence, 21.  Morality and\n  adaptation, 22.  Morality is natural if life is, 24.\n\nV. MORALITY AND CONFLICT . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   24\n\n  Morality and competitive struggle.  Morality the\n  condition of strength, 24.  The value of conflict, 23.\n  The elimination of conflict, 26.  Morality and the love\n  of life, 27.\n\nVI. THE DIGNITY AND LUSTRE OF MORALITY . . . . . . . . . . .   28\n\n  The effect of war on sentiment and the imagination, 28.\n  Real power is constructive, not destructive or\n  repressive, 29.  Moral heroism, 31.  The saving or\n  provident character of morality, 32.  Morality and the\n  consummation of life, 33.\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   34\n\nI. THE STAND-POINT OF RATIONALISM AND INDIVIDUALISM  . . . .   34\n\n  Modern individualism, 34.  Distinguished from\n  scepticism, 36. The individual as the organ of knowledge,\n  37.  Moral individualism as a protest against convention,\n  39.  Duty as the rational ground of action, 40.\n  Reasonableness a condition of the consciousness of\n  duty, 41.\n\nII. THE LOGIC OF PRUDENCE  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   43\n\n  Prudence as elementary, 43.  Interest, action, and\n  goodness, 43.  The alleged relativity of goodness, 43.\n  The conflict of interests solved by conciliation, 48.\n  The limits of prudence, 49.\n\nIII. THE LOGIC OF PREFERENCE AND PURPOSE . . . . . . . . . .   50\n\n  The adoption of new interests and the problem of\n  preference, 50.  A hypothetical solution of the problem, 51.\n  Solution in the concrete case through the organization\n  of a purpose, 53.  The principle of the objective validity\n  of interests, 54.  The principle of the quantitative basis\n  of preference, 55.\n\nIV. THE LOGIC OF IMPARTIALITY AND JUSTICE  . . . . . . . . .   57\n\n  The private interest, 57.  The personal factor negligible\n  in counting interests, 58.  The refutation of egoism.\n  The first proposition of egoism, 59.  The second\n  proposition of egoism, 61.  Impartiality as a part of\n  justice, 63.  Justice as imputing finality to the\n  individual, 64.  The equality of rational beings as organs\n  of truth, 64.  Summary of justice, 66.\n\nV. THE LOGIC OF GOOD-WILL  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   67\n\n  All interests are entitled to consideration, 67.\n  Goodwill and the growth of new interests, 67.\n\nVI. DUTY AND THE IMAGINATION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   69\n\n  The logical imagination, 69.  Rationalism and incentive\n  to action, 70.  Rationalism and faith, 71.\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE ORDER OF VIRTUE  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   72\n\nI. THE VIRTUES AND THEIR CLASSIFICATION  . . . . . . . . . .   72\n\n  Summary of the content and logic of moral value, 72.\n  Virtues as verified rules of life, 73.  The material and\n  formal aspects of morality, 74.  Materialism and\n  formalism due to exaggeration, 75.  The general importance\n  of the conflict between the material and formal\n  motives, 76.  Duty identified with the formal motive, 76.\n  Formalism less severely condemned, 77.  The five\n  economies of interest, 77.  Summary of virtues and\n  vices, 79.  Table, 81.\n\nII. THE ECONOMY OF THE SIMPLE INTEREST . . . . . . . . . . .   82\n\n  The simple interest not a moral economy, 82.  Satisfaction\n  the root-value, and intelligence the elementary\n  virtue, 82.  Incapacity, 83.  Overindulgence the first\n  form of materialism, 84.  It is due to lack of foresight,\n  85.  Or to the complexity of interests, 86.  Overindulgence\n  as the original sin, 86.\n\nIII. THE RECIPROCITY OF INTERESTS  . . . . . . . . . . . . .   87\n\n  Prudence as a principle of organization, 87.  Moderation\n  and thrift, 87.  Honesty, veracity, and tact of the\n  prudential form, 88.  The inherent value of the prudential\n  economy.  Individual and social health, 88.  Temperance\n  and reason, 90.  Prudential formalism, or asceticism, 92.\n  Asceticism illustrated by the Cynics, 92.  Prudential\n  materialism or sordidness, 94.  Aimlessness or idleness, 94.\n\nIV. THE INCORPORATION OF INTERESTS . . . . . . . . . . . . .   95\n\n  Purpose as a principle of organization.  Its\n  intellectual character, 95.  The virtues subsidiary to\n  purpose, 95.  Truthfulness in the purposive economy, 96.\n  The value of achievement, 97.  The formalistic error\n  of sentimentalism, 98.  Deferred living, 98.  Nationalism,\n  99.  Egoism and bigotry as types of materialism.\n  The pride of opinion, 100.  Egoism and bigotry involve\n  injustice, 103.  The meaning of injustice, 103.\n\nV. THE FRATERNITY OF INTERESTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  105\n\n  Justice as a principle of organization, 105.  Justice\n  conditions rational intercourse, 105.  Discussion, freedom,\n  and tolerance, 106.   Anarchism and scepticism, 107.\n  _Laissez-faire_, 108.  Justice and materialism.\n  Worldliness, 110.  Ancient worldliness due to lack of\n  pity, 110.  Modern worldliness due to lack of\n  imagination, 111.\n\nVI. THE UNIVERSAL SYSTEM OF INTERESTS  . . . . . . . . . . .  112\n\n  The economy of good-will, 112.  Good-will as the\n  condition of real happiness.  Paganism and Christianity,\n  113.  Merely formal good-will is mysticism, 116.\n  Mysticism perverts life by denying this world, 118.\n  Quietism, 119.  Mystical perversion of moral truth, 120.\n\nVII. SUMMARY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  121\n\n  The interworking of the formal and the material\n  principles, 121.  Importance of the formal principle.\n  Manners and worship, 121.\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  123\n\nI. THE GENERAL THEORY OF PROGRESS  . . . . . . . . . . . . .  123\n\n  The philosophy of history, 123.  The meaning of\n  progress, 125.  Progress and the Quantitative basis of\n  preference, 127.  The method of superimposition as a test\n  of progress, 127.\n\nCONTENTS\n\nII. THE EXTERNAL AND INTERNAL PRINCIPLES OF PROGRESS . . . .  130\n\n  The external principle: the pressure of an unfavorable\n  environment, 130.  The external and the internal\n  principle, 131.  The internally progressive type of society.\n  The importance of discussion, 132.  Rationality the\n  internal principle of progress, 134.  The positive\n  motive: constructive reform, 134.  Disinterested reflection\n  and the man of affairs, 136.  Success depends on moral\n  capacity, 137.  The negative motive: revolution, 139.\n  Christianity as a social revolution, 140.  The French\n  Revolution, 141.  Dependence of progress on the\n  historical connectedness of human life, 143.\n\nIII. CONSERVATISM AND RADICALISM . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  144\n\n  Conservatism values the existing order, 144.  Progress\n  requires the maintenance and use of order, 145.  The\n  real radical not the sceptic but the rationalist, 145.\n  The justification of the radical, 146.\n\nIV. PROGRESS IN THE INSTITUTION OF GOVERNMENT  . . . . . . .  147\n\n  Institutions are permanent moral necessities, 147.\n  Government as the interest both of the weak and of the\n  strong, 148.  The moral necessity of government, 150.\n  The variable and progressive factor in government,\n  151.  The principle of rationality in government, 152.\n  The benefits and cost of government in the ancient\n  military monarchy, 152.  Solidarity of interest in the\n  Greek and Roman oligarchies, 154.  Advance in liberality\n  in Athenian institutions, 156.  The development\n  of modern institutions, 157.  The modern idea of\n  democracy, 158.  Summary of the modern state.  It is\n  territorial and impersonal, 160.  The representative\n  method, 160.  Emphasis on internal policy and\n  international peace, 162.\n\nV. THE QUALITY OF CONTEMPORARY LIBERALISM  . . . . . . . . .  163\n\n  Democracy based not on pity but on enlightenment,\n  163.  The respect for the opinion of those most\n  interested, 164.  The spirit of modern justice, 165.\n  Sensitiveness to life, 166.  The allowance for growth, 167.\n  The individual and the crowd, 168.  Hopefulness and\n  the bias of maturity, 169.  The work done and the\n  work to do, 170.\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE MORAL CRITICISM OF FINE ART  . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  171\n\nI. THE JUSTIFICATION OF THE MORAL CRITICISM OF ART . . . . .  171\n\n  The higher activities of civilization, 171.  The attempt\n  to apply aesthetic standards to life, 172.  The claim of\n  art to exemption from moral criticism is based on\n  misapprehension.  Morality not a special interest, but the\n  fundamental interest, 174.  Morality does not substitute\n  its canons for those of art, 175.\n\nII. DEFINITION OF ART AND THE ESTHETIC INTEREST  . . . . . .  176\n\n  Art as the adaptation of the environment to interest,\n  176.  Industrial art and fine art, 177.  The aesthetic\n  interest: the interest in apprehension, 179.  The\n  interest in sensation and perception, 181.  The emotional\n  interest, 182.  Instinct and emotion in the aesthetic\n  experience.  Poetry and music, 183.  The interest in\n  discernment, 185.  The representative element in art\n  exemplified in Greek sculpture, 185.  And in Italian\n  painting of the Renaissance, 187.  Levels and blendings\n  of the aesthetic interest, 189.  The moral criticism of\n  the aesthetic interest, 190.\n\nIII. THE SELF-SUFFICIENCY OF THE AESTHETIC INTEREST  . . . .  192\n\n  The aesthetic interest is capable of continuous\n  development, 192.  And is resourceful, 192.  But tends\n  on that account to be narrow and quiescent, 192.\n\nIV. THE PERVASIVENESS OF THE ESTHETIC INTEREST . . . . . . .  194\n\n  The aesthetic interest may supply interest where there\n  is none, or enhance other interests, 194.  But it must\n  not be allowed to replace other interests, 195.\n\nV. THE VICARIOUS FUNCTION OF THE AESTHETIC INTEREST  . . . .  197\n\n  Other interests may be represented by the aesthetic\n  interest, 197.  The danger of confusing vicarious\n  fulfilment with real fulfilment, 198.  And of being\n  aesthetically satisfied with failure, 199.\n\nVI. ART AS A MEANS OF STIMULATING ACTION . . . . . . . . . .  201\n\n  Art is a source of motor excitation,201.  But such\n  excitation is morally indeterminate, 201.  Such influences\n  must be selected with reference to their effect on moral\n  purpose, 202.\n\nVII. ART AS A MEANS OF FIXING IDEAS  . . . . . . . . . . . .  203\n\n  The higher practical ideas have no other concrete\n  embodiment than art, 203.  Art both fixes ideas and\n  arouses sentiment in their behalf, 204.  But if art is\n  to serve this end it must be true, 205.  Untruth in\n  art, 206.  Universality and particularity in art, 207.\n  Art may invest ideas with a fictitious value, 208.\n\nVIII. THE LIBERALITY OF THE AESTHETIC INTEREST . . . . . . .  209\n\n  Art is unworldly, 209.  The aesthetic intercourse\n  promotes social intercourse on a high plane, 210.\n\nIX. CONCLUSION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  212\n\n  When subjected to moral control, art may make the\n  environment harmonious with morality, 212.\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE MORAL JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION  . . . . . . . . . . . .  214\n\nI. THE DEFINITION OF RELIGION  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  214\n\n  The sound practical motive in religion, 214.  Religion\n  as belief, 216.  Summary definition of religion, 218.\n\nII. THE TESTS OF RELIGION  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  218\n\n  The measure of religion, extensive and intensive, 218.\n  The test of truth the fundamental test, 220.  The\n  therapeutic test, and its confusion of the issue, 222.\n  The two forms of the truth test, cosmological and ethical,\n  224.  The working of these critical principles, 226.\n  Cosmology and ethics are independent of religion, 228.\n  The optimistic bias, 231.  Summary of religious\n  development, 231.\n\nIII. SUPERSTITION  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  232\n\n  The prudential character of superstition, 232.  The\n  ethical idea in primitive religion, 233.  The\n  cosmological idea, 234.  The method of primitive religion,\n  235.  Superstition in Christianity, 235.  The ethical\n  and cosmological correction of superstition, 236.\n\nIV. TUTELARY RELIGION  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  237\n\n  The deity identified with the purpose of the worshipper,\n  237.  The national religion of the Assyrians and\n  Egyptians, 238.  The correction of tutelary religion, 239.\n\nV. PHILOSOPHICAL RELIGION.  METAPHYSICAL IDEALISM  . . . . .  241\n\n  Religion formally enlightened, 241.  Metaphysical and\n  moral idealism, 242.  The inherent difficulty in\n  metaphysical idealism, 242.  The swing from formalism to\n  materialism.  Pessimism, other-worldliness, mysticism,\n  panlogism and aesthetic idealism, 243.  Aesthetic\n  idealism falsifies experience and discredits moral\n  distinctions, 246.\n\nVI. MORAL IDEALISM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  248\n\n  Moral idealism reflects moral judgment, 248.  Evil real\n  but not deliberately perpetrated.  The knowledge of\n  evil, 249.  The ground of moral idealism, 252.\n\nVII. THE GENERIC VALUE OF RELIGION . . . . . . . . . . . . .  252\n\n  Religion morally inevitable, 252.  The value of the\n  religious generalization of life, 253.  The immediate\n  reward of service, 254.  Religion and moral\n  enthusiasm, 254.  Culture and religion, 255.\n\nNOTES  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  257\n\nINDEX  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  263\n\n\n\n\n{1}\n\nTHE MORAL ECONOMY\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nMORALITY AS THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE\n\nIn the words with which this book is inscribed, Bishop Butler conveys\nwith directness and gravity the conviction that morality is neither a\nmystery nor a convention, but simply an observance of the laws of\nprovident living.  \"Things and actions are what they are, and the\nconsequences of them will be what they will be: why then should we\ndesire to be deceived?\" [1]  This appeal, commonplace enough, but\nconfident and true, sounds the note with which through all that follows\nI shall hope to keep in unison.\n\nIt is because he professes to believe that morality is an imposture\nthat must be smuggled into society behind the back of reason, that\nNietsche makes a merit of its dulness.  \"It is desirable,\" he says,\n\"that as few people as possible should reflect upon morals, and\nconsequently it is very desirable that morals should not some day\nbecome interesting!\" [2]  He confesses that he sees no occasion for\nalarm!  But the dulness of {2} morality testifies only to its\nhomeliness and antiquity.  For to be moral is simply to be intelligent,\nto be right-minded and open-minded in the unavoidable business of\nliving.  Morality is a collection of formulas and models based solidly\non experience of acts and their consequences; it offers the most\ncompetent advice as to how to proceed with an enterprise, whether large\nor small.  It is the theory and technique which underlies the art of\nconduct; that \"master-workman,\" by whom kings reign and princes decree\njustice; possessed by the Lord in the beginning of his way, and whom to\nhate is to love death.\n\nIt is worth while to remark and proclaim such a conviction as this only\nbecause mankind has so treacherous a memory, and so fatuous a habit of\ndisowning its most precious and dearly won possessions.  Cardinal\ntruths are periodically overlaid with sophistication, blended with\ntentative opinion, and identified with the instruments of the day.\nThere results a confusion of mind that fails to distinguish the essence\nfrom the accident, and aims to destroy where there is need to rectify.\nBecause government is clumsy and costly, it is proposed to abolish\ngovernment; because education is artificial and constraining, society\nis exhorted to return to the easy course of nature; metaphysics must be\nswept away, because the {3} metaphysics of some time or school has\noutlived its usefulness; and morality, because it is hard or tiresome,\nmust give way to the freedom and romance of no morality.  Such blind\nand irresponsible agitation is a perpetual menace to the balance of\nimpressionable and unsteady minds, if not indeed to the work of\ncivilization.\n\nNow it is safe to say that these venerable institutions have arisen in\nanswer to fixed needs; needs implied in life as a general and constant\nsituation.  There is no other way of accounting for them.  They have\nbeen tolerated only because they yield a steady return.  Their loss\nwould be a catastrophe which mankind, obedient to the necessities of\nlife, would fall at once to repairing.  Institutions are the very body\nof civilization; and while they may grow and change without limit, if\nthey be abruptly destroyed civilization must suffer paralysis in some\nvital part.  At once the most direct and striking proof of this lies in\nthe fact that the revolutionist, whether he be propagandist or man of\naction, invariably commits himself, and ends by executing the very\nfunction he denied.  At the moment when he comes to close quarters, and\nactually engages the object of his attack, he is swept into some\ncurrent of endeavor that has from the most ancient times been pressing\nsteadily toward the solution of a problem that lies in the centre of\n{4} the path of life.  He straightway commences himself to govern,\neducate, speculate, or moralize.  And the more patiently he labors, the\ngreater his respect for the vested wisdom of his time.  Whereas he\nfirst sought utterly to demolish, he is now content to make his little\ndifference and hand on the work.  In the end every purely destructive\nprogramme is inevitably futile, because it goes against the grain.  For\nall conduct is constructive in motive, and forward in direction.  But\nhow wasteful is the momentary fury--wasteful of high passion and\ndistinguished capacity, and how mystifying to the lay intelligence!\n\nIt may, of course, be said that there is method in this madness; since\nman's twofold blindness, his dogmatism and his scepticism, his\nimmobility and his wantonness, tend in the long run to neutralize one\nanother.  But with the perspective required for such consolation,\nneither the agencies of destruction nor those of obstruction preserve\nthe same heroic proportions which they are wont to assume in their day.\nThey seem to be engaged in a sort of by-play, and wear an unmistakable\naspect of childishness.  Lo!  Mankind has been a long time on his way,\nand endures hardily the prospect of endless leagues to go.  He is the\nPatient Plodder, symbol of mature intelligence.  And he has in his\ncompany two small boys who exhibit an incorrigible {5} naughtiness.\nThe one of these is called Destruction; his other names being Cynic,\nSceptic, and Nihilist.  He it is that mocks and cries, \"Go up, thou\nbald head! go up, thou bald head!\"  Mankind does not curse him in the\nname of the Lord, but invites him to play with another small boy, named\nObstruction, and whose other names are Vested Interest, Reactionary,\nand Pedant.  This one, whenever Mankind will lead him, digs in his\nheels or lies down in his tracks; until, pricked and goaded by his\nplayfellow, he at length gets up and scrambles after.  And so these two\nkeep ever by the side or at the heels of Mankind, whom they neither\nlead nor deflect from his course.\n\nParadox serves to dislodge prejudice; and blasphemy may rudely but\neffectually bring to their senses those who have mistaken the hardness\nof their hearts for loyalty, and their easy default for success.  But\npractical wisdom belongs only to those who proceed unwaveringly out of\nthe past and into the future, correcting mistakes when they may,\nconserving the good already won, and making new conquests.\n\nIt may be remarked, and should be readily granted, that patient\nplodding is less _piquant_ than the by-play of inertia and revolt.  The\nspirit of Nietsche is doubtless even now yawning mightily at such\ntedious moralizing; fresh proof of the \"dull, gloomy seriousness,\" the\nhopeless {6} stupidity of our sublunary virtue.  I believe that\nNietsche has frankly confessed the real grievance of his class of\nmischief makers.  They are impatient and easily bored; while the\nbusiness of establishing a healthful and vigorous society is\ncomplicated, tortuous, and slow.  Their talent for letters, their love\nof vivid pictures, sharp contrasts, and concise dramatic situations,\ncannot adapt itself to the real bulk and complexity of life.\nCivilization is too promiscuous, too prolonged and monotonous, for\nthese rare spirits.  And they have their sure reward; for they ease the\ntension of effort, supplying a recreative release from its pangs under\nthe flattering guise of higher truth.  All the impatience and\nplayfulness in the world conspires with them.  But as one of the demos\nof moral dullards, I get no little comfort from applying to Nietsche\nand Ibsen, and to certain prophet litterateurs of England, Burke's\nreproof of Lord Bolingbroke.\n\n\nWhen men find that something can be said in favor of what, on the very\nproposal, they have thought utterly indefensible, they grow doubtful of\ntheir own reason; they are thrown into a sort of pleasing surprise;\nthey run along with the speaker, charmed and captivated to find such a\nplentiful harvest of reasoning, where all seemed barren and\nunpromising. . . .  There is a sort of gloss upon ingenious falsehoods\nthat dazzles the imagination, but which neither belongs to, nor becomes\nthe sober aspect of truth. . . .  In such cases, the writer has a\ncertain fire and {7} alacrity inspired into him by a consciousness,\nthat let it fare how it will with the subject, his ingenuity will be\nsure of applause.[3]\n\n\nIt is safe to accept morality as one accepts agriculture, navigation,\nconstitutional government, or any other tried solution of an\nunavoidable problem.  There is false opinion here as elsewhere, and\nhollow convention is not infrequently paraded as duty and wisdom; but\nthe nucleus of morality is verified truth, the precipitate of mankind's\nprolonged experiment in living.\n\nI do not propose, however, to be satisfied with so modest a claim.  It\nmight still be contended that morality is doubtless true so far as it\ngoes, or well enough for those who care for it; but that it will\nscarcely concern other than the more coarse-grained and less\nadventurous minds.  It is customary to associate high wisdom with the\npursuit of some special interest, for its own sake, and under no wider\nlaw than a sort of professional etiquette or code of honor.  Business\nis business, art is art, truth is truth, and for one who cares to \"go\nin for it,\" virtue is for virtue's sake.  Those who ride hobbies do not\nobject to the moralist, provided he does not intrude.  But if he\napplies his rules to other than his own personal or domestic affairs,\nhe is berated as an impertinent busybody who is talking of things he\ndoes not understand.  Now I venture to assert that the {8} moralist in\nthe nature of the case can never be impertinent, though he may be\nimpolite or even insulting.  He can never be impertinent because,\ncontrary to the formula of the day, there is no such thing as virtue\nfor virtue's sake.  Morality is the one interest that virtually\nrepresents all interests.  It is the interest of every man in the\ngeneral tests of success and failure, and in the maintenance of the\nfield or medium of all interests.  There is no enterprise which, if\nconducted efficiently, is not a verification of moral rules; there is\nno enterprise which does not receive and transmit the now of life that\ncirculates through the moral system at large.  To be righteously\nindignant is to protest passionately in behalf of the whole good, and\nagainst the clumsy and inadvertent evil.  To this morality owes its\nuniversal support, its invincible finality.  It need never be\napologetic, because it holds no brief; it advocates no measure except\nthe carrying through to the end of what is virtually undertaken by all\nparties to the adventure of life.\n\nIt follows that no man can exempt himself from moral liability.  He is\nirrevocably committed to life, and can neglect the laws of life only at\nhis absolute or ultimate peril.  What does it profit a man to gain a\nbit here and a bit there, if he is foreordained to loss on the whole?\nIf he squanders his moral patrimony he has no means of {9} recouping\nhis fortunes; he has wasted his supporting vitality and forfeited his\ngeneral livelihood.\n\nAnd now if this be true it is of more than passing or sentimental\nimportance.  It needs to be vividly realized if morality is to make its\nsaving appeal.  Morality is only discredited through being sanctioned;\nits proper merits are more eloquent than its friends and borrowed\nauspices.  If it can be simply proclaimed as it is, it cannot be\ndenied.  This is one of the things which I undertake to do.  But to\nunderstand what morality really is, to recognize its claims, is to\nunderstand also its application, its critical pertinence to art and\nreligion, to all the great and permanent undertakings of men.  Such\napplication I shall in the later chapters undertake to suggest, partly\nas an amplification of the meaning of morality, and partly as a\nprogramme of further reflection looking toward a moral philosophy of\nhistory.  I can do no more in the present chapter than broadly present\nthe structure of morality, leaving the logic of its appeal and its more\nimportant applications for the chapters which follow.\n\n\nII\n\nThe moral affair of men, a prolonged and complicated historical\nenterprise, is thrown into historical relief upon the background of a\nmechanical cosmos.  Nature, as interpreted by the {10} inorganic\nsciences, presents a spectacle of impassivity.  It moves, transforms,\nand radiates, on every scale and in all its gigantic range of temporal\nand spatial distance, utterly without loss or gain of value.  One\ncannot rightly attribute to such a world even the property of neglect\nor brutality.  Its indifference is absolute.\n\nSuch a world is devoid of value because of the elimination of the bias\nof life.  Where no interest is at stake, changes can make no practical\ndifference; where no claims are made, there can be neither fortune nor\ncalamity, neither comedy nor tragedy.  There is no object of applause\nor resentment, if there be nothing in whose behalf such judgments may\nbe urged.\n\nBut with the introduction of life, even the least particle of it, the\nrudest bit of protoplasm that ever made the venture, nature becomes a\nnew system with a new centre.  The organism inherits the earth; the\nmechanisms of nature become its environment, its resources in the\nstruggle to keep for a time body and soul together.  The mark of life\nis partiality for itself.  If anything is to become an object of\nsolicitude, it must first announce itself through acting in its own\nbehalf.  With life thus instituted there begins the long struggle of\ninterest against inertia and indifference, that war of which\ncivilization itself is only the latest and most triumphant phase.\n\n{11}\n\nNature being thus enlivened, the simpler terms of value now find a\nmeaning.  A living thing must suffer calamities or achieve successes;\nand since its fortunes are _good_ or _bad_ in the most elementary sense\nthat can be attached to these conceptions, it is worth our while to\nconsider the matter with some care.  An _interest_, or unit of life, is\nessentially an organization which consistently acts for its own\npreservation.  It deals with its environment in such wise as to keep\nitself intact and bring itself to maturity; appropriating what it\nneeds, and avoiding or destroying what threatens it with injury.  The\ninterest so functions as to supply itself with the means whereby it may\ncontinue to exist and function.  This is the principle of action which\nmay be generalized from its behavior, and through which it may be\ndistinguished within the context of nature.  Now the term _interest_\nbeing construed in this sense, we may describe goodness as _fulfilment\nof interest_.  The description will perhaps refer more clearly to human\nlife, if for the term _interest_ we substitute the term _desire_.\nGoodness would then consist in the _satisfaction of desire_.  In other\nwords, things are good because desired, not desired because good.  To\nsay that one desires things because one needs them, or likes them, or\nadmires them, is redundant; in the end one simply desires certain\nthings, that is, one {12} possesses an interest or desire which they\nfulfil.  There are as many varieties of goodness as there are varieties\nof interest; and to the variety of interest there is no end.\n\nStrictly speaking, goodness belongs to an interest's actual state of\nfulfilment.  This will consist in an activity, exercised by the\ninterest, but employing the environment.  With a slight shift of\nemphasis, goodness in this absolute sense will attach either to\ninterest in so far as nourished by objects, as in the case of hunger\nappeased, or to objects in so far as assimilated to interest, as in the\ncase of food consumed.  It follows that goodness in a relative sense,\nin the sense of \"good for,\" will attach to whatever _conduces_ to good\nin the absolute sense; that is, actions and objects, such as\nagriculture and bread, that lead directly or indirectly to the\nfulfilment of interest.  But \"good\" and \"good for,\" like their\nopposites \"bad\" and \"bad for,\" are never sharply distinguishable,\nbecause the imagination anticipates the fortunes of interests, and\ntransforms even remote contingencies into actual victory or defeat.\n\nThrough their organization into life, the mechanisms of nature thus\ntake on the generic quality of good and evil.  They either serve\ninterests or oppose them; and must be employed and assimilated, or\navoided and rejected {13} accordingly.  Events which once indifferently\nhappened are now objects of hope and fear, or integral parts of success\nand failure.\n\n\nIII\n\nBut that organization of life which denotes the presence of morality\nhas not yet been defined.  The isolated interest extricates itself from\nmechanism; and, struggling to maintain itself, does, it is true, divide\nthe world into good and bad, according to its uses.  But the moral\ndrama opens only when interest meets interest; when the path of one\nunit of life is crossed by that of another.  Every interest is\ncompelled to recognize other interests, on the one hand as parts of its\nenvironment, and on the other hand as partners in the general\nenterprise of life.  Thus there is evolved the _moral_ idea, or\nprinciple of action, according to which _interest allies itself with\ninterest in order to be free-handed and powerful_ against the common\nhereditary enemy, the heavy inertia and the incessant wear of the\ncosmos.  Through morality a plurality of interests becomes an\n_economy_, or _community of interests_.\n\nI have thus far described the situation as though it were essentially a\nsocial one.  But while, historically speaking, it is doubtless always\nsocial in one of its aspects, the essence of the matter is as truly\nrepresented within the {14} group of interests sustained by a single\norganism, when these, for example, are united in an individual\nlife-purpose.  Morality is that procedure in which several interests,\nwhether they involve one or more physical organisms, are so adjusted as\nto function as one interest, more massive in its support, and more\ncoherent and united in the common task of fulfilment.  Interests\nmorally combined are not destroyed or superseded, as are mechanical\nforces, by their resultant.  The power of the higher interest is due to\na summing of incentives emanating from the contributing interests; it\ncan perpetuate itself only through keeping these interests alive.  The\nmost spectacular instance of this is government, which functions as\none, and yet derives its power from an enormous variety of different\ninterests, which it must foster and conserve as the sources of its own\nlife.  In all cases the strength of morality must lie in its liberality\nand breadth.\n\nMorality is simply the forced choice between suicide and abundant life.\nWhen interests war against one another they render the project of life,\nat best a hard adventure, futile and abortive.  I hold it to be of\nprime importance for the understanding of this matter to observe that\nfrom the poorest and crudest beginnings, morality is _the massing of\ninterests against a reluctant cosmos_.  Life has been attended with\ndiscord and mutual {15} destruction, but this is its failure.  The\nfirst grumbling truce between savage enemies, the first collective\nenterprise, the first peaceful community, the first restraint on\ngluttony for the sake of health, the first suppression of ferocity for\nthe sake of a harder blow struck in cold blood,--these were the first\nvictories of morality.  They were moral victories in that they\norganized life into more comprehensive unities, making it a more\nformidable thing, and securing a more abundant satisfaction.  The fact\nthat life thus combined and weighted, was hurled against life, was the\nlingering weakness, the deficiency which attends upon all partial\nattainment.  The moral triumph lay in the positive access of strength.\n\nLet us now correct our elementary conceptions of value so that they may\napply to moral value.  The fulfilment of a simple isolated interest is\ngood, but only _the fulfilment of an organization of interests_ is\nmorally good.  Such goodness appears in the realization of an\nindividual's systematic purpose or in the well-being of a community.\nThat it virtually implies one ultimate good, the fulfilment of the\nsystem of all interests, must necessarily follow; although we cannot at\npresent deal adequately with that conclusion.\n\nThe quality of moral goodness, like the quality of goodness in the\nfundamental sense, lies not in the nature of any class of objects, but\nin any {16} object or activity whatsoever, in so far as this provides a\nfulfilment of interest or desire.  In the case of moral goodness this\nfulfilment must embrace a group of interests in which each is limited\nby the others.  Its value lies not only in fulfilment, but also in\nadjustment and harmony.  And this value is independent of the special\nsubject-matter of the interests.  Moralists have generally agreed that\nit is impossible to conceive moral goodness exclusively in terms of any\nspecial interest, even such as honor, power, or wealth.[4]  There is no\ninterest so rare or so humble that its fulfilment is not morally good,\nprovided that fulfilment forms part of the systematic fulfilment of a\ngroup of interests.\n\nBut there has persisted from the dawn of ethical theory a misconception\nconcerning the place of _pleasure_ in moral goodness.  It has been\nsupposed that every interest, whatever its special subject-matter, is\nan interest in pleasure.  Now while a thorough criticism of hedonism\nwould be out of place here, even if it were profitable, a summary\nconsideration of it will throw some light on the truth.[5]\nFortunately, the ethical status of pleasure is much clearer than its\npsychological status.  As a moral concern, pleasure is either a\n_special interest_, in which case it must take its place in the whole\neconomy of life, and submit to principles which adjust it to the rest;\nor it is _an {17} element in every interest_, in which case it is\nitself not an interest at all.  Now whether it be proper to recognize a\nspecial interest in pleasure, it is not necessary here to determine.\nThat this should be generally supposed to be the case is mainly due, I\nthink, to a habit of associating pleasure peculiarly with certain\nfamiliar and recurrent bodily interests.  At any rate it is clear that\nthe pleasure which constantly _attends_ interests is not that _in which\nthe interest is taken_.  Interests and desires are qualitatively\ndiverse, and to an extent that is unlimited.  The simpler organisms are\nnot interested in pleasure, but in their individual preservation; while\nman is interested not only in preservation, but in learning,\ncard-playing, loving, fighting, bargaining, and all the innumerable\nactivities that form part of the present complex of life.\n\nNow, it is true that it is agreeable or pleasant to contemplate the\nfulfilment of an interest; and that such anticipatory gratification in\nsome measure accompanies all endeavor.  But there is an absolute\ndifference between such present pleasure and the prospect which evokes\nit.  And it is that prospect or imagined state of fulfilment which is\nthe object of endeavor, the good sought.  It is also true that the\n_fulfilment_ of every interest is pleasant.  But this means only that\nthe interest is conscious of its fulfilment.  In pleasure {18} and pain\nlife records its gains and losses, and is guided to enhance the one or\nrepair the other.  Where in the scale of life pleasure and pain begin\nit is not now possible to say, but it is certain that they are present\nwherever interests engage in any sort of reciprocity.  If one interest\nis to control or engage another it must be aware of it, and alive to\nits success or failure.  Where life has reached the human stage of\ncomplexity, in which interests supervene upon interests, in which every\ninterest is itself an object of interest, the consciousness of good and\nevil assumes a constantly increasing importance.  Life is more watchful\nof itself, more keenly sensitive to the fortunes of all of its\nconstituent parts.  It is proper, therefore, to associate pleasure with\ngoodness; and happiness, or a more constant and pervasive pleasure,\nwith the higher forms of moral goodness.  But pleasure and happiness\nare incidental to goodness; necessary, but not definitive of its\ngeneral form and structure.\n\nIn addition to goodness thus amplified there now enters into life at\nthe moral stage a new element of value, the _rightness_ or _virtue_ of\naction which, though moved by some immediate desire, is at the same\ntime controlled by a regard for a higher or more comprehensive\ninterest.  This is the distinguishing quality of all that wins moral\napproval: thrift and temperance; loyalty {19} and integrity; justice,\nunselfishness, and public spirit; humanity and piety.  To the further\ndiscussion of these several virtues we shall have occasion shortly to\nreturn.\n\nMoral procedure, then, differs from life in its more elementary form,\nthrough the fact that interests are organized.  Morality is only life\nwhere this has assumed the form of the forward movement of character,\nnationality, and humanity.  Moral principles define the adjustment of\ninterest to interest, for the saving of each and the strengthening of\nboth against failure and death.  Morality is only the method of\ncarrying on the affair of life beyond a certain point of complexity.\nIt is the method of concerted, cumulative living, through which\ninterests are brought from a doubtful condition of being tolerated by\nthe cosmos, to a condition of security and confidence.  The spring and\nmotive of morality are therefore absolutely one with those of life.\nThe self-preservative impulse of the simplest organism is the initial\nbias from which, by a continuous progression in the direction of first\nintent, have sprung the service of mankind and the love of God.\n\n\n{20}\n\nIV\n\nThere is an old and unprofitable quarrel between those who identify,\nand those who contrast, morality with _nature_.  To adjudicate this\nquarrel, it is necessary to define a point at which nature somehow\nexceeds herself.  Strictly speaking, it is as arbitrary to say that\nmorality, which arose and is immersed in nature, is not natural, as to\nsay that magnetism and electricity are not natural.  If nature be\ndefined in terms of the categories of any stage of complexity, all\nbeyond will wear the aspect of a miracle.  It would be proper to\ndismiss the question as only a trivial matter of terminology, did not\nthe discussion of it provide an occasion for alluding to certain\nconfused notions that have obtained wide currency.\n\nThus there is an ancient belief that it is natural to be licentious;\nthat man is at heart unruly and wilful, wearing the artificial good\nbehavior of civilization as he wears his clothes.  Nietsche has\ncontributed not a little to the glorification of this pro-natural and\nanti-moral monster.  And yet no one has recognized more clearly than\nhe, that restraint and law are not only in life from the beginning, but\nthat they are themselves the very sources of its power.\n\n\n'The singular fact remains,' he says, 'that everything of the nature of\nfreedom, elegance, boldness, {21} dance, and masterly certainty, which\nexists or has existed, whether it be in thought itself, or in\nadministration, or in speaking and persuading, in art just as in\nconduct, has only developed by means of the tyranny of such arbitrary\nlaw; and in all seriousness; it is not at all improbable that precisely\nthis is \"nature\" and \"natural\"--and not _laisser-aller_!'[6]\n\n\nIt only remains to drop the terms \"arbitrary\" and \"tyranny\"; since the\nprinciple of development in life can scarcely be regarded as arbitrary,\nor its effectual working as tyranny.\n\nHuxley chose to draw a line between nature and morality, at the point\nwhere a limit is set to the isolated organism's struggle against all\ncomers.\n\n\nThe practice of that which is ethically best--what we call goodness or\nvirtue--involves a course of conduct which, in all respects, is opposed\nto that which leads to success in the cosmic struggle for existence.\nIn place of ruthless self-assertion it demands self-restraint.[7]\n\n\nBut Huxley appears momentarily to have overlooked the fact that the\nstruggle for existence itself puts a premium on self-restraint.  For\nthere is no stage of evolution in which the adjustment and co-operation\nof interests is not an aid to survival.  One does not have to rise\nhigher in the scale of life than the plants fertilized by insects, to\nobserve the working of this principle.  It is only the crudest and most\nimpotent self-assertion that is \"ruthless.\"  The reason for this {22}\nis simply that the real enemy of every vital process is not another\nkindred process, but the mechanical environment.  Life is essentially\nan assertion, not against life, but against death.  Interests that\nexpend their energies in destroying or crippling one another, slip back\ntoward that primeval lifelessness from which they emerged.  Restraint\nfor the sake of organization is therefore only a developed and\nintelligent self-assertion.\n\nIf one insists still upon drawing a line between cosmical and moral\nforces, let it be drawn at the point where there first arises that\nunstable complex called life.  Life does in a sense oppose itself to\nthe balance of nature.  To hold itself together, it must play at parry\nand thrust with the very forces which gave it birth.  Once having\nhappened, it so acts as to persist.  But it should be remarked that\nthis opposition between the careless and rough course of the cosmos,\nthe insidious forces of dissolution, on the one hand, and the\nself-preserving care of the organism on the other, is present\nabsolutely from the outset of life.\n\nVegetable and animal organisms do, it is true, adapt themselves to the\nenvironment; but their adaptation is essentially a method of using and\nmodifying the environment in their own favor, precisely as is the case\nwith human action.  {23} Therefore Huxley's sharp distinction between\nnatural plant life and man's artificial garden is misleading.\n\n\n'The tendency of the cosmic process,' he says, 'is to bring about the\nadjustment of the forms of plant life to the current conditions; the\ntendency of the horticultural process is the adjustment of the\nconditions to the needs of the forms of plant life which the gardener\ndesires to raise.'[8]\n\n\nBut this is to ignore the basal fact, which is that plant life in any\nform is a defiance of current conditions.  Art has already begun when\nnatural processes assume a form that feeds itself, reproduces itself,\nand grows.  The first organisms have only a local footing; they are\nrooted in the soil, and can turn to their advantage only the conditions\ncharacteristic of a time and place.  Eventually there evolves a more\nresourceful unit of life, like the gardener with his cultivated plants,\nwho is capable of inhabiting nature at large.  But the method is still\nthe same, that of playing off nature against nature; only it is now\ndone on a larger scale, and in a more aggressive and confident spirit.\nThe need of concession to the demands of locality is reduced, through a\nconcession once and for all to the wider processes of nature.  But in\nrelation to its environment, life is never wholly constructive, as it\nis never wholly passive.  Whether it appears in the form of vegetation\nor civilization, {24} it always involves both an adaptation of nature\nto itself and of itself to nature.\n\nMorality, then, is natural if life is natural; for it is defined by the\nsame essential principles.  It is related to life as a later to an\nearlier phase of one development.  The organization of life answers the\nself-preservative impulse with which life begins; the deliberate\nfulfilment of a human purpose is only life grown strong enough through\norganization to conduct a larger and more adventurous enterprise.\n\n\nV\n\nIn the light of this conception let us examine more fully the relation\nof morality to the competitive struggle between individuals and\ncommunities.  There can, of course, be no doubt that competition forces\nlife up in the scale.  But it is equally true, and more significant,\nthat in the course of that progress competition itself is steadily\neliminated.  The stronger units of life prevail against the weaker.\nBut the stronger units of life are the more inclusive and harmonious\ncomplexes of interest.  They are constituted by adjusting interests;\nallowing each a modicum of free play, or crushing those that will not\nsubmit to organization.  Within such units the principle of mechanical\nsurvival gives way to the principle of moral survival.  I mean by this\nthat {25} the selection, rejection, and gradation of interests is made\nnot on the basis of the uncompromising self-assertion of each and the\nsurvival of the hardy remnant; but on the basis of the contribution\nmade by each to the life of the collective body.  The test of survival\nis obedience to a law defined in the joint interest of all, and control\nis vested in the rational capacity to represent this interest and\nconduct it to a safe and profitable issue.  The strength of life thus\norganized lies in its massiveness, in its effective plenitude.  When\nsuch units wage war on one another, this strength is wasted; and the\nvery same principle that strength shall prevail, tends to the extension\nof the organization until it shall embrace contentious factions.\n\nEven where the principle of survival does not operate, conflict has\nbeen, and yet remains, a factor in moral progress of enormous and\nfar-reaching importance.  The more keen and unrelenting it is, the more\neffectually does it expose the weakness of the competing units, the\nmore urgently does it require a better concentration and economy of\neffort.  In order to fight a rival, it is necessary to leave off\nfighting one's self, and be healthy and single-minded.  An industrial\ncorporation, in order to overreach its competitors, is compelled to\nadjust its intricate functions with incredible nicety, to utilize\nby-products, and even to introduce old-age pensions for the promotion\n{26} of morale among its employees.  And so a nation, to be strong in\nwar, must enjoy peace and justice at home.  War has served society by\nwelding great aggregates of interest into compact and effective wholes,\nthe enemy providing an object upon which collective endeavor can unite.\n\nBut circumstances that press life forward will be left behind, if these\ncircumstances are not themselves good.  And war is not that for which\nmen war; they war for the existence and satisfaction of their\ninterests.  That which is constructive and saving in war is not the\ncontact between the warring parties, but their internal coherence and\nharmony.  It is _that_ which survives when hostility is inhibited by a\nrecognition of the cost; it is that which is extended when hostility\ngives way to a wider co-ordination of interests.\n\nThe loss when contending currents are redirected and flow together is\nnot a loss of power, but only of neutralizing resistance.  It is true\nthat the lesson of harmony is learned through discord; but harmony is\nnone the less in the end exclusive of discord.  The principle of peace,\nlearned at home through the hard necessity of war abroad, finds only a\nmore complete justification and beneficent application in peace abroad.\nIt is love and not hate that is the moving spring of life.  It is love\nwhich is constructive; hate destroys even the very object that evokes\nand {27} sustains it.  It is essential, then, to life, not only to\nassert and reproduce itself, but to increase itself through allying\nitself with life.  Where the motive of life thus freely expresses\nitself, there are no natural enemies.\n\nI count it to be important thus to trace morality back to the original\nlove of life, since only so is it possible to understand its urgency,\nand its continuity with every organic impulse.  It is because morality\nis without warrant dislocated from the natural life, that it is accused\nof being barren and formal.  To many minds it is best symbolized by the\nkindly lady who gives the small boy a penny, and admonishes him not to\nspend it.  But there could be no more outrageous travesty.  Morality in\nits springs is absolutely one with that clinging to life which is the\nmost deep-lying of all interests, and with that relish for life in\nwhich its goodness needs no philosopher's approval.  The primal\ndetermination to be and to sell one's self dearly, is not different,\nexcept in its limits, from the moral determination to be and to attain\nto the uttermost.  The whole force of life is behind every moral\nscruple, and guarantees the sanity even of a universal good-will.\n\nBut the identification of morality with the organization of life,\nserves also to demonstrate life in its unity and larger auspices.\nMorality harmonizes life and eliminates its wanton {28}\nself-destruction; but life is not therefore left without an object of\nconquest.  For there is one campaign in which all interests are\nengaged, and which requires their undivided and aggressive effort.\nThis is the first and last campaign, the war of life upon the routine\nof the mechanical cosmos and its forces of dissolution.  To live, to\nlet live, and to grow in life, constitute an absorbing and passionate\ntask, in which every human heroism may find a proper object.\n\n\nVI\n\nIt must be admitted that the imagination has not yet sufficiently\nglorified this enterprise of civilization.  It is hard to forget old\nshibboleths and loyalties.  And yet precisely that must be done with\nevery advance in liberality.  Admiration and passion lag behind reason;\nare forever backsliding and debauching themselves among the companions\nof their youth.  But man's salvation lies not in degrading his reason\nto the level of his loyalties, nor in allowing the two to drift apart,\nbut in acquiring a finer loyalty.  And while one cannot extemporize the\nsymbols and imagery of devotion, these will surely grow about any\nsustained purpose.\n\nWe hear much in our day of the passing of nobility and enthusiasm with\nthe era of war.  \"Whatever makes men feel young,\" says Chesterton, {29}\n\"is great--a great war or a love story.\" [9]  Love stories will\ndoubtless continue to the end; but must man cease to feel young in the\ndays when cruelty and exploitation are obsolete?  Nietsche[10] speaks\nwith passionate regret of a certain \"lordliness,\" or assertion of\nsuperiority, that has latterly given place to the slave morality, which\naims at \"the universal green-meadow happiness of the herd.\"  There are\nno more heroes, of \"lofty spirituality,\" but only levellers, timid,\nstupid, mediocre folk, \"_sans genie et sans esprit_.\"\n\nNow there is a paradox that does not seem to have occurred to Nietsche,\nin the slave insurrection by which he accounts for this dreary\nspectacle.  It can scarcely be a code of slavishness that has enabled\nslaves to overthrow their masters.  The morality of the modern European\ndemocracy is the morality of the strong; of the many, it is true, but\nof the many united and impassioned, moving toward the general end with\ngood heart.  And it is this which gave mastery to the once ruling\nclass.  Mastery appears wherever action is bold, united, and with the\npressure of interest behind it; mastery has nothing to do with the airs\nof mastery, with Nietsche's \"pathos of distance,\" separating class from\nclass.  The \"instinct for rank,\" and \"delight in the nuances of\nreverence,\" are not signs of nobility, as Nietsche would have it.\nThere is no nose for them so {30} sensitive and discriminating as that\nof the chambermaid or butler.  The mere pride of an easy mastery over\nslaves is the taint of every society in which class differences are\nrecognized as fixed.  It attaches to all classes; whether it be called\nsnobbery or obsequiousness, it is all one.  The virtue of mastery, on\nthe other hand, lies in the power and in the attainment which it\nrepresents.\n\nAnd this Nietsche himself fully admits in his less inspired but more\nthoughtful utterances.  It is \"the constant struggle with uniform\nunfavorable conditions\" that fixes the type he admires.  When there are\nno more enemies, \"the bond and constraint of the old discipline\nsevers,\" and a rapid decay sets in; which leads inevitably, after a\nchaos of individualism, to a period of mediocrity such as the present.\nIn other words, so soon as its political and social activities are\nconfined to \"lording it,\" the aristocracy loses its vigor, and falls an\neasy prey to democratic or other propagandists _who want something and\nare united to attain it_.\n\nNow it seems that if man is not to become spiritually bankrupt, he must\nbe confronted with unfavorable conditions that keep him vigilant and\nalert.  Nietsche has no imagination for resistance, struggle, and\nvictory, except as these arise in the war of man against man.  His\nheroes are Alcibiades, Caesar, and Frederick II, \"men {31} predestined\nfor conquering and circumventing others.\"  But it is not easy for us of\nthis day to forget the others; it is the cost to them that galls our\nconscience.  We cannot sincerely applaud a heroism in which life is\ncondemned to feed on itself.  Shall the only enemy that never fails,\nthe condition that is always indifferent if not unfavorable, namely,\nthe perpetual wear and drag of nature, be forgotten in order that men\nmay fall on one another?  Has man no more lordly task than that of\ndestroying what he holds to be good?  Is there no more of \"creative\nplenipotence\" in man than killing and robbing?\n\nI am convinced that it needs only enlightenment to reduce Nietsche's\ncircumventer of others to the proportions of a burglar; and to enlarge\nto truly heroic proportions him who circumvents the blindness of\nnature, brings up the weak or faint-hearted who lag behind, and throws\nhimself bravely into the enterprise of steady constructive\ncivilization.  Nietsche is beguiled by a love of melodrama.  He forgets\nthe real war for the pageantry of an era that will pass.  As a\nmisleader of youth he conspires with the writers of dime-novels to fix\nthe imagination on false symbols.  The small boy who would run away\nfrom home for the glory of fighting Indians is deceived; both because\nthere are no longer any Indians to fight, and because there are more\nglorious {32} battles to be fought at home.  War between man and man is\nan obsolescent form of heroism.  There is every reason, therefore, why\nit should not be glorified as the only occasion capable of evoking the\ngreat emotions.  The general battle of life, the first and last battle,\nis still on; and it has that in it of danger and resistance, of\ncomradeship and of triumph, that can stir the blood.\n\nBut I have not undertaken to make morality picturesque.  I shall leave\nthat to other hands.  In an age when it has been somewhat out of\nliterary fashion, Chesterton[11] has found it possible even to proclaim\nmorality as the latest and most enlivening paradox.  But I propose to\nleave it clad in its own sobriety.  Its appeal in the last analysis\nmust be to a sense for reality, and to an enlightened practical wisdom.\nMorality is that which makes man, \"naked, shoeless, and defenceless\" in\nbody, the master of the kingdom of nature.  Morality in this sense has\nnever been more simply and eloquently justified than in the words which\nPlato puts into the mouth of Protagoras.  He first describes the arts\nwith which men contrived barely to sustain themselves, in a condition\nno better than the beasts which preyed on them in their helplessness.\nIt is then that through the gift of Zeus they are rescued from their\ndegradation and invested with the forms of civilization.\n\n{33}\n\nAfter a while the desire of self-preservation gathered them into\ncities; but when they were gathered together, having no art of\ngovernment, they evil-intreated one another, and were again in process\nof dispersion and destruction.  Zeus feared that the entire race would\nbe exterminated, and so he sent Hermes to them, bearing reverence and\njustice to be the ordering principles of cities and the bonds of\nfriendship and conciliation.[12]\n\n\nBut reverence and justice are more even than the ordering principles of\ncities.  They are the conditions of the maximum of attainment, whether\nthis be conceived as that supreme excellence which Plato divined, or as\nthat all-saving good which is the object of a Christian devotion to\nhumanity.  Morality is the law of life, from its bare preservation to\nits supreme fruition.  There is a high pretension in morality which is\nthe necessary consequence of its motive.  But man is not, on that\naccount, in need of those reminders of failure which are so easy to\noffer, and which are so impotently true; he needs rather new symbols of\nfaith, through which his heart may be renewed, and his courage\nfortified to proceed with an undertaking of which he cannot see the\nend.  Faith and courage have brought him thus far:\n\n  \"Till he well-nigh can tame\n  Brute mischiefs and control\n  Invisible things and turn\n  All warring ills to purposes of good.\"\n\n\n\n\n{34}\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nTHE LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL\n\nThere is a phrase, \"liberty of conscience,\" which well expresses the\nmodern conception of moral obligation.  It recognizes that duty in the\nlast analysis is imposed upon the individual neither by society nor\neven by God, but by himself; that there is no authority in moral\nmatters more ultimate than a man's own rational conviction of what is\nbest.\n\nWe meet here with the application to morality of the motive which\nunderlies the whole modern reaction against medievalism, the motive\nwhich John Locke so aptly summarized when he said, \"We should not judge\nof things by men's opinions, but of opinions by things.\" [1]  This is\nindividualism of the positive temper, the protest against convention\nand authority; in behalf, not of license, but of knowledge.\nMediaevalism is condemned, not for its universalism, but for its\narbitrariness and untruth; for its mistaking of the weight of\ncollective opinion, or of institutional prestige, for the weight of\nevidence.\n\nThis is the characteristic temper of the modern {35} individualism,\nwhether it be dominated by a bias for sense or a bias for reason.\nLocke, like his forerunner, Bacon, is an individualist because it is\nthe individual in his detachment from society that alone can be\nopen-eyed and open-minded; who is qualified to carry on that \"proper\nbusiness of the understanding,\" \"to think of everything just as it is\nin itself.\" [2]  Descartes, although in habit of mind and speculative\ninstinct he has so little in common with the Englishman, nevertheless\nfinds in the individual's self-discipline and concentration the only\nhope of preserving the savor of the salt of knowledge.  Thus he says:\n\n\nI thought that the sciences contained in books, (such of them at least\nas are made up of probable reasonings, without demonstrations),\ncomposed as they are of the opinions of many different individuals\nmassed together, are farther removed from truth than the simple\ninferences which a man of good sense using his natural and unprejudiced\njudgment draws respecting the matters of his experience.[3]\n\n\nSpinoza, who both abandoned the world and was abandoned by it, sought\nan individual philosophy of life that should be more universal than the\nopinion of the world on account of its greater truth.  \"Further\nreflection convinced me, that if I could really get to the root of the\nmatter I should be leaving certain evils for a certain good.\" [4]\n\nThis was the impulse in which modern tolerance of individual opinion\nand appeal to {36} individual conscience originated.  It was a protest\nnot against order, but against the disheartening drag, the heavy and\ndull constraint, of an order externally imposed.  Freedom was valued\nnot for the sake of lawlessness, but for the sake of a clearer\nrecognition of the proper laws of things, of the principles that lie in\nnature and civilization and control them inherently.\n\nIndividualism in this sense is not sceptical.  Even a charge that\nexisting codes of morality and systems of thought are largely matters\nof social habit, or rules devised by church and state to maintain an\narbitrary and profitable power, does not justify the inference that\nthere is no truth.  For there is no dilemma between public tyranny and\nprivate caprice.  On the contrary, it means that tyranny is itself a\nform of caprice, and that caprice in any form must give way before\nreason and experiment.  Certain contemporary popular philosophers, such\nas Wells and Shaw, appear to believe that to repudiate the rigid\nconventions of the day means to abolish absolute distinctions utterly\nand fall back upon a general laxity and vagueness.  But this is to\nthrow out the baby with the bath.  The evil in convention is the\nsubstitution of merely _habitual_ distinctions for real distinctions,\nand the only justification for an assault on convention is the bringing\nof such real distinctions to light.\n\n{37}\n\nThe individualist virtually claims that an individual's belief, if it\nbe critical, is entitled to precedence over public belief, simply\nbecause the individual mind is a better instrument of knowledge than\nthe public mind.  It is the individual mind that is more directly\nconfronted with the evidence, more single and responsive.\nIndividualism is not, then, an appeal to private opinion in any\ndisparaging sense.  For, in so far as private opinion is independent\nand truthful in motive, concerning itself with its objects rather than\nwith the social model of the day, it is self-corrective and tends\ninevitably toward the common truth.  It is the opinion that is not\nreally individual, but imitative, respectful of persons, generally\nsubmissive to ulterior motives of a social kind, that is private in the\nbad sense.  Its privacy lies in its artificiality, in its partisanship,\nand in its remove from the open daylight of experience.\n\nIf, therefore, one must in moral matters finally rely on the\nindividual's judgment, this in no way implies the breakdown of\nuniversal principles.  It is neither necessary nor natural that\nindividual judgment should bespeak whim, hasty impulse, or narrow\nself-interest.  The guardian in Plato's _Republic_ was as much an\nindividual as the merchant or the soldier.[5]  In a sense he was more\nan individual than these, since he was not swayed by the crowd, but\nthought with freedom {38} and independence.  Nevertheless his thought\nembraced the interests of the entire community, and comprehended the\norganization and forms of adjustment through which they all might live\nand thrive.  In moral as in other matters the true appeal of\nindividualism is to an intelligence which, though emancipated from\nconvention, is on that very account committed to the general\nnecessities that lie in the field it seeks to know.\n\nIn view of these considerations, then, we may pronounce legitimate and\nhopeful the moral individualism of the time.  It implies the\nrecognition that there is a genuine ground for moral action, which may\nbe brought home to any individual mind that will deal honestly and\ndirectly with the facts of life.  Morality is not a useful fiction\nwhich must be protected against inquisitiveness and cherished in\nignorance and servility; it is a body of compelling truth that will\nconvince wherever there is a capacity to observe and reason.  It\nrequires no higher sanction than the individual, because the individual\nis society's organ of truth; because only in the individual mind is\nsociety open to rational conviction.\n\nLatitudinarianism and tolerance in this sense bespeak a confidence in\nmorality's ability to justify itself.  At the same time they represent\na protest against replacing the intrinsic truth of morality by the\narbitrary standards of authority {39} and convention.  Now, while there\nis little need in the present day of protecting individual judgment\nagainst encroachments of authority, there can be no doubt of the great\nneed of protecting it against the more insidious encroachments of\nconvention.  This is peculiarly an age of publicity.  The forces of\nsuggestion and imitation operate on a scale unparalleled in the history\nof society.  Standards and types readily acquire an almost irresistible\nprestige, simply through becoming established as models.  And the\nsanction of opinion may be gained for almost any formula, from a\nfashion in hats to an article in theology.  Convention can no longer be\naccounted conservative.  It sanctions promiscuously usages as venerable\nas civilization itself, and as transient as the fad of the hour.\nDemocratic institutions and universal educational privileges have bred\na social mass intelligent and responsive enough to be modish, but\nlacking in discrimination and criticism.\n\nThe tyranny of opinion, the fear of being different, has long since\nbeen recognized as a serious hinderance to the development which\npolitical freedom and economic opportunity ought properly to stimulate.\nBut the moral blindness to which it gives rise has never, I think, been\nsufficiently emphasized.  We require of business men only that measure\nof honesty that we {40} conventionally expect in that type of\noccupation.  A politician is proverbially tricky and self-seeking.  The\nartistic temperament would scarcely be recognized if it did not\nmanifest itself in weakness and excess.  It is as unreasonable to\nexpect either tunefulness or humor in a musical comedy as to expect a\nstatement of fact in an advertisement.  In short, where any human\nactivity is conventionalized, standards are arbitrarily fixed; and\ncritical discernment grows dull if it does not altogether atrophy.  It\nsimply does not occur to the great majority of men that any activity\nshould be judged otherwise than by comparing it with the stereotyped\naverage of the day.  This is, to be sure, only that blindness of the\ncommon mind which Socrates and Plato observed in their day, but it is\nnow aggravated through the greater massiveness and conductivity of\nmodern society.\n\nThese considerations will serve both to introduce and to justify my\npresent undertaking.  I assume that duty is not an arbitrary mandate\nwhich the individual must obey blindly or from motives of fear; but the\nconviction of moral truth, the enlightened recognition of the good.[6]\nHence I wish to demonstrate morality to an individual reflective mind,\nopen to the facts of life and to conviction of truth.  I shall expound\nmorality out of no book but experience, \"that universal and publick\nManuscript, that lies {41} expans'd unto the Eyes of all.\"  To refer\nmorality to custom, to conscience in the sense of individual\nprepossession or institutional authority, even if these be interpreted\nas the oracles of God, is to justify the suspicion that it is\ngroundless and arbitrary, at best a matter of loyalty or good form.  I\nshall present morality as a set of principles as inherent in conduct,\nas unmistakably valid there, as is gravitation in the heavens.  I shall\nhope to make it appear that the saving grace of morality is directly\noperative in life; needing no proof from any adventitious source,\nbecause it proves _itself_ under observation.\n\nI shall address myself to an individual protagonist whom I shall\ndesignate in the second person; and whom I shall suppose to exhibit\nthat yielding reluctance which is the mark of a mind that for very love\nof truth will not too readily assent.\n\nAs I am to prove morality to you, I accept the burden of proof; but you\nare not on that account totally without responsibility in the matter.\nAs you must not stop your ears, or close your bodily eyes, so you must\nnot shut the eye of the mind, or harden your heart.  Were you to adopt\nsuch an attitude I should be compelled to set argument aside, and\nresort to such practical measures as might shock or entice you into\nreasonableness.  Or, I might abandon you as incorrigible.  It is {42}\nclear that I can as little show reasons to a man who will not think\nthem with me, as I can show the road to one who will not look where I\npoint it out.  A very large amount of moral exhortation consists in the\nattempt to overcome apathy and inattention.  Such exhortation cannot in\nthe nature of the case be logical, because the subject's logical organ\nis not as yet functioning.  I doubt if there is any discussion of moral\nmatters in common life in which this form of appeal is not present in a\nmeasure sufficient to obscure the merits of the question at issue.  I\ndesire for present purposes to eliminate as far as possible all\nconflict and prejudices, and thus to dispense with zeal and eloquence.\nI shall assume, therefore, that you propose to be reasonable concerning\nthis moral affair.  By this I mean simply that you shall directly\nobserve the facts of life, report candidly on these facts, and fully\naccept the implications of any judgment to which you may commit\nyourself.  I may phrase your pledge of reasonableness thus: \"Show what\nis right, and that it is right, and I will accept it.  I mean my action\nto be good, and ask only to have the good demonstrated to me, that I\nmay intelligently adopt it.\"\n\n{43}\n\nII\n\nIt is commonly believed that whereas the logic of _prudence_ is\nunimpeachable, there is a hiatus between this level of morality and\nthose above.  To drink one's self to death is a species of folly that\nthe poorest intelligence can understand; but the folly in meanness,\ninjustice, or impiety is a harder matter.  Believing as I do that the\nfolly is equally demonstrable in all of these cases, I propose not to\naccept your ready assent in the simpler case until its grounds have\nbeen made as clear and definite as possible.  I feel convinced that\nprudence is not so simple a matter as appears; in fact that it involves\nthe whole ethical dialectic.\n\nI find you, let us say, eating an apple with evident relish; and I ask\nyou why.  If you are candid, and free from pedantry, you will doubtless\nreply that it is because you like to.  In this particular connection I\ncan conceive no profounder utterance.  But we may obtain a phraseology\nthat will suit our theoretical purposes more conveniently and serve\nbetter to fix the matter in our minds.  Your eating of the apple is a\nprocess that tends within certain limits to continue and restore\nitself, to supply the actions and objects necessary to its own\nmaintenance.  I have proposed that we call such a process an\n_interest_.  In that it is a part of that very complex physical and\n{44} moral thing called \"you,\" it is _your_ interest, and it also has,\nof course, its special subject-matter, in this case the eating of an\napple.  It involves specific movements of body, and makes a specific\nrequisition on the environment.  Now, still confining ourselves\nstrictly to this interest, we shall doubtless agree to call any phase\nof it in which it is fulfilled, in which its exercise is fostered and\nunimpeded, _good_.  And we shall doubtless agree to attach the same\nterm, although perhaps in a less direct sense, to that part of the\nenvironment which it requires, in this case the apple, and to the\nsubsidiary actions which mediate it, such as the grasping of the apple,\nor the biting and mastication of it.  I mean only that these modes or\nfactors of the interest are _in some sense good_; qualifications and\nlimitations may be adjudicated later.\n\nIn this case, which so far as I can see is the simplest possible case\nof the sort of value that enters into life, the value is supplied by a\nspecific type of process which we may call an interest, and it is\nsupplied thereby absolutely, fundamentally.  It makes both this apple\nand your eating of it good that you should _like to eat it_.  If you\ncould explain every action as you explain this action, when it is thus\nisolated, there would be no moral problem.\n\nWe may now safely open the door to the objections that have been\npressing for admission.  {45} The first to appear is an old friend\namong philosophers; but one whose reputation so far exceeds its merits\nthat it must be submitted to vigilant examination.  It is objected (I\nam sure that you have long wanted to say this) that your repast is\n_good for you, good from your point of view_, but not on that account\n_really good_.  These are the terms with which it is customary to\nconfound any serious judgment of truth; and they acquire a peculiar\nforce here because we seem to have invited their application.  We have\nagreed that your action is good in that it suits your interest, and\nthus seem to have defined its goodness as relative to you.  Now, if we\nare to avoid a confusion of mind that would terminate our investigation\nhere and now, we must bring to light a latent ambiguity.\n\nWe have, it is true, discovered goodness to be a phase of a process\ncalled \"interest,\" which is qualified further, through the use of a\npersonal pronoun.  The nature of goodness, in other words, is such as\nto involve certain specific _relations_, here involving a person or\nsubject.  Goodness is not peculiar in this respect; for there are very\nfew things in this world that do not involve specific relations.  This\nis the case, for example, with planets, levers, and brothers.  There is\nno planet without its sun, no lever without its fulcrum, no brother who\nis not somebody's brother.\n\n{46}\n\nBut the relationship in the case of goodness is supposed to be a more\nserious matter; sufficiently serious to discredit the meaning of\ngoodness, or make all judgments concerning goodness merely expressions\nof bias.  The supposition is due to the confusion of a relativity in\nthe _subject-matter_ of the judgment, with a relativity of the judgment\nitself to the individual that gives utterance to it.  Thus the\njudgment, \"You like apples,\" deals with your interest and the objects\nrelating to it; but the judgment itself is not therefore biassed.  It\nis no more an expression of your opinion than it is of mine; it is a\nformulation of what occurs in the field of experience open to all\nobservers.  A judgment _concerning_ only you, is utterly different from\na judgment _representing_ only you.  The latter, if there were such a\nthing, would be ungrounded, and would justify the sceptic's suspicions.\nThe confusion is possible here simply because the subject-matter of the\njudgment in question is itself a judgment.  It could scarcely arise in\nthe parallel cases.  The lever cannot be defined except in relation to\nits fulcrum.  This may be loosely generalized and made to read:\njudgments concerning a lever are relative to a fulcrum.  It might even\nbe said that a lever is a lever only from the point of view of its own\nfulcrum.  But the most unscrupulous quibbler would scarcely offer this\nas evidence against {47} the objective validity of our knowledge of\nlevers.  Your brother is necessarily related to you; but the\nproposition defining the relationship is not on that account relative,\nthat is, peculiarly yours or any one else's.  Fraternity is a complex\ninvolving a personal connection, but is none the less entirely\nobjective.  And precisely the same thing is true of goodness.  To\nobserve it adequately one must bring into view that complex object\ncalled an interest, which may be yours or his or mine; but it will be\nbrought none the less into our common view, and observed as any other\nobject may be observed.  Because goodness is inherent in a process\ninvolving instincts, desires, or persons, it is not one whit less valid\nor objective than it would be if it involved the sun or the first law\nof motion.\n\nLet us now turn to a much more fruitful objection.  Suppose it be\nobjected that your action, though good when thus artificially isolated,\nwill in the concrete case have to be considered more broadly before any\nfinal judgment can be pronounced on it.  To this objection I fully\nassent.  It implies that although we have fully defined a hypothetical\ncase of goodness, we have so far simplified the conditions as to make\nour conclusions inadequate to moral experience.  Accepting this\nqualification, it is now in order to complicate the situation; but\nretaining our analysis {48} of the elementary process, and employing\nterms in the meaning derived therefrom.\n\nLet us suppose that the apple which you enjoy eating, is my apple, and\nthat I delight in keeping it for my own uses.  Such being the case, we\nfall to wrangling over it, and your appetite is like to go unappeased.\nI now have evidence to show you that your act of violent appropriation\ndoes not conduce to your interest.  This is simply an experimental and\nempirical fact.  I am in a position to show you that the character of\nyour action is other than you supposed, that you were under a\nmisapprehension as to its goodness.  It leads not to the enjoyable\nactivity which interests you, but to a series of bodily exertions and a\nstate of unfulfilled longing in which you have no interest at all.\nIndeed your action is a hinderance to your interest; in other words, is\nbad.\n\nBut I proceed to point out to you the further fact that, if you will\nbuy the apple and thus conciliate me, you may get rid of my\ninterference and proceed with your activity.  Your purchase is now\njustified in precisely the same manner as your original seizure of the\nobject.  If you are asked why you do it, you may still reply, \"Because\nI like apples.\"\n\nNow, it would accord with the customary use of terms to call such\naction on your part _prudence_; and prudence is commonly regarded as a\nvirtue {49} or moral principle.  But in prudence the meaning of\nmorality is as yet only partially realized; it is morality upon a\nrelatively low level.  Hence it is desirable to avoid reading too much\ninto it.\n\nOn the one hand, prudence does involve the checking of one interest in\nconsequence of the presence of another.  You have noted my interest,\nacknowledged it as having its own claims, and made room for it.\nTherein your action differs signally from your dealings with your\nmechanical environment.  And it is this contact and adjustment of\ninterests, this practical recognition of the fact that the success of\none interest requires that other interests be respected, and dealt with\nin a special manner appropriate to them as interests, that marks the\nprocedure as moral.  On the other hand, while you have acknowledged my\ninterest, you have not _adopted_ it.  You have concerned yourself with\nmy love of property only in so far as it affected your fondness for\napples.  In order to appeal to you I have had to appeal to this, as yet\nyour only interest.  The moral value of your action lies wholly in its\nconduciveness to this interest, because it is controlled wholly by it.\nYou are as yet only a complex acting consistently in such wise as to\ncontinue an eating of apples.  This formula is entirely sufficient as a\nsummary of your conduct, even after you have learned to respect my\nproperty.  And therein lies {50} its _merely_ prudential character.  In\nprudence thus strictly and abstractly regarded, there is no preference,\nno subordination of motives.  Action is controlled by an exclusive and\ninsistent desire, which limits itself only with a view to effectiveness.\n\n\nIII\n\nIt would appear, then, that if I am to justify those types of action\nwhich are regarded as more completely moral, _I must persuade you to\nadopt interests that at any given instant do not move you_.  I must\npersuade you to forego your present inclination for the sake of\nanother; to judge between interests, and prefer that which on grounds\nthat you cannot reasonably deny is the more valid.  In other words, I\nmust define a logical transition from prudence to _preference_, or\n_moral purpose_.\n\nLet us suppose that, in spite of your liking, apples do not \"agree\nwith\" you.  It is, for example, pertinent to remark that if you eat the\napple to-day you cannot go to the play to-morrow.  Our parley proceeds\nas follows:\n\n\"Just now I am eating apples.  Sufficient unto the day is the evil\nthereof.\"\n\n\"But you acknowledge your fondness for the theatre.\"\n\n\"Yes, but that doesn't interest me now.\"\n\n\"Nevertheless you recognize the interest in {51} play-going as a real\none, dormant to-day, temporarily eclipsed by another interest, but\ncertain to revive to-morrow?\"\n\n\"I do.\"\n\n\"And you admit that, apart from the chance of your death in the\nmeantime, a chance so small as to be negligible, an interest to-morrow\nis as real as an interest to-day?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Now, recognizing these two interests, and keeping them firmly in view,\nobserve the consequences of your action if you persist in eating the\napple, and pronounce judgment upon it.\"\n\n\"It would seem to be both good and bad; good in its conduciveness to\nthe satisfaction of my present appetite, bad in its preventing my\nenjoyment of the play.\"\n\nIn your last reply you have fairly stated the problem.  You are not\npermitted to escape the dilemma by simply neglecting the facts, for\nthis would be contrary to the original agreement binding you to be and\nremain open-minded.  And you are now as concerned as I to solve the\nproblem by defining a reorganization of the situation that would permit\nof an action unequivocally good, that is altogether conducive to the\nfulfilment of interest.\n\nTo understand what would constitute a solution of this moral problem it\nis important to observe, {52} in the first place, that an action\n_wholly conducive to both interests_ would take precedence of an action\nwhich fulfilled the one but sacrificed the other.  Were it possible for\nyou to eat the apple now and go to the play to-morrow, your rational\ncourse would be to allow your present impulse free play.  You would\nthus be alive to the total situation; your action would in reality be\nregulated by both interests, or rather by a larger interest embracing\nand providing for both.  An action thus controlled would have a more\nadequate justification than an action conceived with reference to the\none interest exclusively, and merely happening to be favorable to the\nother interest also.  Or suppose that, by substituting a different\nspecies of apple for the one first selected, you could avoid\ndisagreeable consequences, and without loss of immediate gratification.\nIn this case you would have corrected your original action and adopted\na course that proved itself better, because conducive to the fulfilment\nof to-morrow's interest as well as to-day's.\n\nWe have thus arrived at a very important conception, that of a higher\ninterest possessing a certain priority in its claims.  The higher\ninterest as I have defined it is simply the greater interest, and\ngreater in the sense that it exceeds a narrower interest through\nembracing it and adding to it.  Your interest in the fulfilment of {53}\nto-day's interest _and_ to-morrow's, is demonstrably greater than your\ninterest in the fulfilment of either exclusively, because it provides\nfor each and more.  In this perfectly definite sense your preference\nmay be justified.\n\nLet us now apply this principle of preference to the more complex case\nin which there is no available action which will fulfil both interests.\nSuppose that you cannot both eat apples to-day and go to the play\nto-morrow.  How is one to define a good action in the premises?  In the\nfirst place the good act originally conceived in terms of the free play\nof the present impulse is proved to be illusory.  There is no good act\nuntil your interests are reorganized.  In other words, the higher\ninterest, which is entitled to preference, requires some modification\nof the participating interests.  But the higher interest owes its title\nto its liberality or comprehensiveness.  Hence it must represent _the\nmaximum fulfilment of both interests which the conditions allow_.  Such\na controlling interest may require you altogether to forego the present\nindulgence, or it may merely require that it be severely limited.  In\nany case, the controlling interest will _represent_ both interests,\nmodified, postponed, or suppressed, as is necessary for their maximum\njoint fulfilment.  The higher interest which thus replaces the original\ninterest, and which is entitled to do so only {54} because it\nincorporates them, I propose to call _moral purpose_.\n\nThere are two highly important principles which we have been brought to\nrecognize through this analysis of preference, and it will be worth our\nwhile briefly to resume them.\n\nIn the first place, no interest is entitled to your exclusive regard\nmerely because it happens at any given time to be moving you.  I shall\ncall this the principle of the objective validity of interests.  I mean\nsimply that an interest is none the less an interest because it does\nnot coincide with an individual's momentary inclination.  In reminding\nyou of an interest overlooked, I have not sought to justify it by\nsubsuming it under your present interest.  I have not tried to prove\nthat it is to your interest as an epicure that you should go to the\nplay.  I have simply pointed out the other interest, and allowed it to\nstand on its merits.  In ethical theories of a certain type, and in\nmuch impromptu moralizing, it is assumed that there is no legitimate\nappeal except in behalf of interests that are at the instant already\nalive.  This is as absurd as to suppose that in order to bring you to\nthe truth in any purely theoretical matter, I must confine myself to\nevidence that you already recognize.  In both cases your individual\nexperience at any given time may be narrow and limited owing to causes\nthat are in the highest {55} degree arbitrary.  It may be advisable\nthat I should solicit your attention by connecting what I have to offer\nwith what is already familiar to you; but this is a psychological\nexpedient.  My appeal is logically supported by objects, by principles,\nby data which are in no wise dependent for their claims on their\nconnection with your present stock in trade.\n\nChesterton refers to one who \"had that rational and deliberate\npreference which will always to the end trouble the peace of the world,\nthe rational and deliberate preference for a short life and a merry\none.\" [7]  I cannot regard such hedonistic opportunism as other than\nwantonness or wilful carelessness.  It may be deliberate in the sense\nof being consciously persisted in, but I cannot find any rationality in\nit.  It arises naturally enough through the greater vividness of the\ninterests that are already adopted and proved; but all prejudices arise\nfrom such accidents, and they are none the less on that account\nabsolutely antagonistic to the rational attitude--that willingness that\nthings should be for me even as they are.\n\nIn the second place, it has appeared that there is no demonstrable\npriority of one simple interest over another differing only\nqualitatively from it.  I propose to call this the principle of _the\nquantitative basis of preference_.  I know that the term quantity has\nan ugly sound in this context.  {56} But I believe that this is due\nsimply to a false abstraction.  Two good books are not better than one\nbecause two is better than one, but because in two of a given unit of\ngoodness there is more of goodness than in one.  Two is more than one,\nbut not more good, unless that which is counted is itself good.  Nor is\ntwo longer or heavier than one, unless the units numbered happen to be\nthose of length or weight.  To prefer two interests to one does not\nimply that one is a lover of quantity, but a lover of good; of that\nwhich if it be and remain good, the more the better.\n\nAt any rate it seems to me a matter of simple candor to admit that\n\"more\" is a term implying quantity, whether it be \"more room,\" \"more\nweight,\" \"more goodness,\" or \"more beauty.\"  It seems to me to be\nequally evident that \"more\" implies commensurable magnitude; and that\ncommensurability implies the existence of a common unit in the terms\ncompared.  Two inches are more than one inch in that they include one\ninch and also another like unit.  Now in moral matters the unit of\nvalue is the fulfilment of the simple interest; and in consequence I\nsee no way of demonstrating that one such simple interest is more good\nthan another, as I see no way of demonstrating that one inch is longer\nthan another.  But I do see that if I can carry a simple interest over\ninto a compound one, and there both {57} retain it and add to it, I\nshall have more--more by what I add.  Such comparison is never a simple\nmatter, perhaps in any concrete case never wholly conclusive.  But I\ncan conceive no more important and more clarifying declaration of\nprinciple.  It means that any rational decision as to the precedence of\nsocial ideals, or as to historical progress from good to better, must\nbe based on width of representation and weight of incentive.\n\n\nIV\n\nIf what I have said thus far has proved convincing to you, this may be\nowing to the fact that you have not been called upon to adopt any\ninterest beyond what are conventionally regarded as your own.  In moral\nmatters it is customary to attach a certain finality to personal\npronouns.  But there are no terms in common use which have so rough and\nloose a meaning, which cover so equivocal and confused an experience;\nalbeit the necessity and frequency of their use has made them standard\ncurrency and polished them into a sort of deceptive smoothness to the\ntouch.  There is no term so altogether handy as the term \"I,\" nor is\nthere any so embarrassed when called on to show its credentials in the\nshape of clear and verifiable experience.  If, then, you stand upon\n_your_ interests I shall not be convinced, for I shall {58} not know\nwhat you mean.  There is no sense in which you are a finished and\ndemonstrable fact.  My dealings with you, and this is peculiarly true\nof my rational dealings with you, cannot be tested by _you_ in any\nabsolute or fixed sense, simply because they may _make_ you, as they\nmay make me.\n\nLet us return to our test case.  You are the epicure, and I am the\nproprietor; you seize my apple, and I protest.  But now I no longer\nappeal to you merely as one who enjoys eating apples, and warn you that\nyou are selecting the wrong means of attaining that end.  I simply\ninform you that the apple is my property, and that I desire to retain\nit.  I appeal to you to respect my wishes, at least to the extent of\nnon-interference.  If you reply that this is no interest that you\nacknowledge, then I am in a position to inform you.  For on no ground\ncan you attach finality to the set of interests which at any given time\nyou choose to acknowledge.  If I may remind you of a forgotten\ninterest, I may inform you of a new interest.  In the one case, you\nacknowledge that there is such an interest in that you anticipate its\nrevival, and realize that its mere absence is no proof of its\nnon-existence.  You recognize it as having its roots in your organism,\nand its opportunity for exercise in certain definable and predictable\ncircumstances.  This is what you mean when you acknowledge that _you\nwill desire_ to go to the play {59} to-morrow.  But the evidence of the\nexistence of still another interest, in this case mine, is no less\nconvincing.  Like your own latent interest, it does not at the instant\nmove you.  But it has the specific character of an interest, and its\nplace in the existent world through its relation to my organism.\nRecognizing it as an interest, you cannot in the given case fail to\nobserve that it qualifies your action as good or bad, through being\naffected by it.  If your action fulfils your interest and thwarts mine,\nit is again mixed, both good and bad.  In order to define the good act\nin the premises it is necessary, as in the previous case, to define a\npurpose which shall embrace both interests and regulate action with a\nview to their joint fulfilment.\n\nIt is customary to argue this principle of impartiality, according to\nwhich the merely personal consideration is declared to be irrelevant to\nthe determination of moral value, by a critique of _egoism_.  The\n_reductio ad absurdum_ of egoism has recently been formulated by G. E.\nMoore in as thorough and conclusive a manner as could be desired.[8]\nThat writer analyzes egoism into a series of propositions all of which\nare equivocal, false, or, so far as true, non-egoistic in their\nmeaning.  I shall reduce Moore's propositions to two, and modify them\nto suit my own conception of goodness.\n\n{60}\n\nAs an egoist you may, in the first place, affirm that _there are no\ninterests but yours_.  This proposition, however, is manifestly false.\nAccept any definition of an interest or desire that you will, and I can\nfind indefinitely many cases answering your definition and falling\noutside the class of those which you claim as your own.  None of these,\nif it conforms fully to your definition, is any the less an interest or\ndesire than the one that happens to be moving you at the instant.\nThere would be as good ground for saying that your brother was the only\nbrother, or your book the only book.  Even if you abate the rigor of\nthe proposition, you cannot escape its essential falsity.  If you\naffirm that there are no interests but the interests of _each_, or that\n_each_ man's interests are the only interests, you flatly contradict\nyourself.  If you affirm that your interests are of superior\nimportance, that they are exceptional, peculiar, entitled to\npre-eminence--this is virtually equivalent to your original\nproposition.  The respect in which your interests seem different from\nall others either enters into your definition of interest, in which\ncase it becomes general; or it is some adventitious circumstance that\ndoes not belong to your interests as such, some accident of proximity\nwhich may have psychological or instrumental importance, but cannot\nrightly affect your judgment of good.  For goodness lies in {61} the\nobjective bearing of your action on such things as interests; precisely\nas the diagonal is a line connecting the vertices of opposite angles in\na square, independently of all circumstances that do not affect the\ngeneric character of the square.\n\nIn the second place, you may affirm that _for you there are no\ninterests but your own_.  But this is an equivocal proposition.  It may\nmean that _in your opinion_ there are none, in which case you admit the\nprobable falsity of your judgment through contrasting it with the\nconsensus of opinion; through attributing it to your narrowness and\nfalse perspective.  Your offering it as your opinion gives the\nproposition at best a tentative form; the question of its truth remains\nto be adjudicated.  I need only present other interests answering your\ndescription of an interest to prove you mistaken.  And if you were to\ngeneralize your proposition and say that each man thinks his own\ninterests the only interests, you would be doubly wrong, in that the\ngeneralization would be unwarranted, and the opinion imputed to each\nman false.\n\nOr, your claim that for you there are no interests but your own, might\nbe taken to mean that in some sense you must confine your endeavors to\nthe fulfilment of your own interests.  Otherwise, you may argue, the\npractical situation would {62} reach a dead-lock, a state of hopeless\nconfusion in which each individual neglected his own proper affairs for\nthe sake of those he had neither the means nor the competence to serve.\nNow this is indisputably true, but it is not egoism.  The judgment that\neach individual must labor where he may do so most effectively, that he\nmust assume not only a general responsibility for all interests\naffected by his action, but also a special responsibility for those\nwith whose direct execution he is charged, is an impartial judgment.\nIt expresses a broad and intelligent view of the total situation.  In\nthe fable of the fox and the grapes, the action of the fox is due to\nthe folly of a too fluent attention.  Similarly, he who lets go his\npresent hold of the web of interests simply because his eye happens to\nalight on another vantage-point, is as much the blind slave of novelty\nas the self-centred man is of familiarity.  In both cases the fault is\none of narrowness of range, of arbitrary exclusion.\n\nEgoists, then, are guilty of a kind of stupid provinciality.  They are\nlike those closet-philosophers whom Locke describes.\n\n\nThe truth is, they canton out to themselves a little Goshen in the\nintellectual world, where light shines and as they conclude, day\nblesses them; but the rest of that vast expansum they give up to night\nand darkness, and so avoid coming near it.  They have a pretty traffic\nwith known correspondents, in some little {63} creek; within that they\nconfine themselves, and are dexterous managers enough of the wares and\nproducts of that corner with which they content themselves, but will\nnot venture out into the great ocean of knowledge, to survey the riches\nthat nature hath stored other parts with, no less genuine, no less\nsolid, no less useful than what has fallen to their lot, in the admired\nplenty and sufficiency of their own little spot, which to them contains\nwhatsoever is good in the universe.[9]\n\n\nThe impartial or judicial estimate of value is properly recognized as\nessential to the meaning of _justice_.  I do not here refer to justice\nin the more narrow and familiar sense.  Retributive justice, or justice\nin any of its special legal aspects, is a political rather than an\nethical matter.[10]  But political justice must be based on ethical\njustice.  And to the definition of this fundamental principle some\ncontribution has now been made.  There is a parody of justice, a\njustice of condescension, that the principles already defined do\ndiscredit.  For it has sometimes been thought that justice required\nonly a deliberate estimate of interests by those best qualified to\njudge, as though the settlement of moral issues were a matter of\nconnoisseurship.  The viciousness of this conception lies in the fact\nthat qualitatively regarded there is no superiority or inferiority\namong interests.  The relish of caviare is no better, no worse, than\nthe relish of bread.  Preference among interests must be based on their\ndifference {64} of representation, or their difference of\ncompatibility.  A wide and safe interest is better than a narrow and\nmischievous interest, better for its liberality.  It follows that no\ninterest can be condemned except upon grounds that recognize its\nclaims, and aim so far as possible to provide for it among the rest.\nNo interest can rationally be rejected as having no value, but only as\ninvolving too great a cost.\n\nBut though these considerations are sufficient to expose moral\nsnobbery, they do not fully define justice.  For justice imputes a\ncertain inviolability to the claims of that unit of life which we term\nloosely a human, personal, moral, free, or rational being.  There is\nsome sense in which you are a finality; making it improper for me\nsimply to dispose of you, even if it be my sincere intention to promote\nthereby the well-being of humanity.  You are not merely one interest\namong the rest, to be counted, adjusted, or suppressed by some court of\nmoral appraisement.  I think I may safely assume that there is to-day\nan established conscience supporting Kant's dictum, \"So act as to treat\nhumanity, whether in thine own person or in that of any other, in every\ncase as an end withal, never as means only.\" [11]\n\nLet me state briefly what appears to me to be the proper basis of this\njudgment.  I have said that I am not entitled simply to suppress your\n{65} action as may be approved by my own judgment.  Now, did I propose\nto do so, what justification should I offer?  I should present, no\ndoubt, the facts in the case.  I should show you the incompatibility of\nyour presently adopted course with the general good.  But let us\nsuppose that you defend your action on the same grounds.  In that case\nyour endorsement of your action has precisely the same formal\njustification as my condemnation of it.  Our equality lies in the fact\nthat we are both claiming candidly to represent the truth.  In the last\nanalysis our equality is based on the identity of the objective content\nto which we appeal.  As witnesses of a specific truth within the range\nof both, the meanest mortal alive and the omniscient intelligence are\nequal; and simply because the identical truth is as valid in the mouth\nof one as in the mouth of the other.  Where it is a matter of\ndisagreement between you and me, our equality lies in the fact that\nneither can do more than appeal to the object.  Neither has any\nauthority; there _is_ no authority in matters of truth, but only\nevidence.  The only rational solution of disagreement is agreement;\nthat is, the coalescence of opinions in the common object to which they\nrefer and toward which they converge.  The method of approximating\nagreement is discussion; which is the attempt of each of two knowers to\navail himself of all the organs {66} and instruments of knowledge\npossessed by the other.  Discussion involves mutual respect, in which\neach party acknowledges the finality of the other as a vehicle of\ntruth.  This, I believe, is that moral equality, that dignity and\nultimate responsibility attaching to all rational beings alike, without\nwhich justice cannot be fulfilled.\n\nJustice, then, embraces these two ideas.  In the first place, in\nestimating the goodness or evil of action, merely personal or party\nconnections must not be admitted in evidence.  In the second place, the\ndeliberate judgment of any rationally minded individual is entitled to\nrespect as a source of truth.  Conflict must in the last analysis be\novercome by the congruence of impartial minds.  Hence the justification\nof reciprocal respect among persons who think honestly; and of a public\nforum to which all shall have access, and where business shall be\ntransacted under the vigilant eye of him who is most concerned.  A\ncandid mind is the last court of jurisdiction.  So long as the\nprocedure of society is questioned or resented by one honest\nconscience, it is lacking in complete verification, and its findings\nare open to doubt.\n\n{67}\n\nV\n\nEnough has already been said to show that the goodness of action must\nbe determined with reference to nothing less than the totality of all\naffected interests.  For this highest principle I have reserved the\nhonored term, _good-will_.  Neither you nor I can reasonably decline to\nconsider the bearing of our actions on any interest whatsoever.  Right\nconduct, since it is inconsistent with the least ruthlessness, must\ninevitably in the end assume the form of humanity and piety.\n\nI know that it is not customary to suppose that devotion to the service\nof mankind is rational; it is taken to be gratuitous, if not quixotic.\nBut once let it be granted that goodness accrues to action in\nproportion to its fruitfulness, it follows that that action is most\nblessed that is dedicated without reservation to the general life.\nThere is only one course which can recommend itself to that fair and\nopen mind to which I conceive myself to be addressing this appeal:\nnamely, so to act in fulfilment of the interest in hand, as either to\npromote or make room for all other interests.\n\nAnd this is true not only of such interests as may be assumed to exist,\nas constitute one's present neighborhood, near and remote; it is also\ntrue of interests that are as yet only potentialities, defined by the\ncapacity of living things {68} to grow.  If it be unreasonable to\nneglect the bearing of one's action on interests which one happens not\nto be familiar with, it is unreasonable to neglect its bearing on\ninterests not yet asserted, wherever there is a presumption that such\nmay come to be.  In other words, one's moral account cannot be made up\nwithout a provision for entries that have yet to be made.  Such a\nprovision will take the form of a purpose to grow, an ardent spirit of\nliberality, an eagerness for novelty.  Good-will builds better than it\nknows; it is open toward the future; committed to a task which requires\nforesight and also faith.  But such devotion, with all its\nextravagance, with its very reverence for what is not known but must\nnevertheless be accounted best, is only, after all, the part of\nfearless good sense.  If anything be good, and if it be reasonable to\npursue it, then is the maximum of that thing the _best_, and the\npursuit of it _wholly_ reasonable.\n\nIt may even be said that thrift is only a lesser form of piety, and\npiety the whole of thrift.  For, first and last, goodness lies in the\nsaving and increase of life.  The justification of any act lies in its\nbeing provident; in its yield of immediate fulfilment and its generous\nallowance for the other interest, the remote interest, and the interest\nthat is as yet only surmised.  The good will is the will to participate\nproductively, permissively, {69} and formally in the total undertaking\nof life.  Only when this intention controls one's decisions can one act\nwithout fear of one's own critical reflection.\n\n\nVI\n\nLet me add a word concerning the part played by the imagination in\nenforcing the logic of morality.  An enlightened conscience, or a\nrational conviction of duty, will consist essentially in the viewing of\nlife with a certain remove from its local incidents.  In conduct, as in\nall matters where validity or truth is concerned, the critical\nconsciousness must disengage itself and view the course of things in\nits due proportions, allowing one's dearest interests to lie where they\nlie among the rest.  I have read so admirable a representation of the\nmoral function of the logical imagination in a recent paper by H. G.\nLord, that I beg leave to quote it here in full:\n\n\nAs between one's self and another \"the image of an impartial outsider\nwho acts as our judge\" is none other than this rational insight into\nthe relation existing between two who are cognitively to each other\njust this and not anything else.  It is the vision of the actual\nreciprocity of the two.  From this comes the Golden Rule in its various\nforms: \"Love thy neighbor as thyself,\" \"Do unto others as ye would be\ndone by,\" \"Put yourself in his place.\"  But, furthermore, even this\nsimpler justice necessitates the power not only to \"see yourself as\nothers see {70} you,\" but even more adequately, and as we say more\njustly, to put yourself where you belong in a system of many, in which\nyou not only count for one and no more than one, but in which you count\nfor just that sort of one, fulfilling just that sort of function which\nyour place in the rationally conceived system involves or necessitates.\nAnd this gives us a form of justice much more profound and complex than\nthat of the Golden Rule, and requiring constructive imagination and\nrational insight of the very highest order.  And with this insight goes\nnecessarily an inevitableness, an inexorableness, and, as we say\nmetaphorically, an imperativeness, which no amount of twisting and\nintellectual thimble-rigging can avoid.  The logic of the system cannot\nbe avoided any more than a step in a mathematical demonstration. . . .\nSo long as it stands, its parts, elements, or members are _placed_, and\nthere is set over each of them the imperative of the system in which\nthey are members.[12]\n\n\nIt has sometimes been thought that a fair view of life will inhibit\naction through discrediting party zeal.  John Davidson describes what\nhe calls \"the apathy of intelligence.\"\n\n\nTo be strong to the end, it is necessary to shut many windows, to be\ndeaf on either side of the head at will, to fetter the mind. . . .  The\nperfect intelligence cannot fight, cannot compete.  Intelligence, fully\nawake, is doomed to understand, and can no more take part in the\ndisputes of men than in the disputes of other male creatures.[13]\n\n\nNow it is true that intelligence inhibits wantonness; for intelligence,\nfully awake, knows how unreasonable it is that one who loves life\nshould {71} destroy it.  But because intelligence affirms the motive of\neach combatant, it must move action to the saving of both.  Where\nintelligence is directed to the inner impulse of life, it is not\napathetic, but sympathetic.  Its span is widened, while its incentive\nis not divided but multiplied.\n\nNor does it follow that when duty is interpreted as enlightenment, life\nmust lose its romantic flavor and cease to require the old\nhigh-spirited virtues.  It is this very linking of life to life, this\nabandonment of one's self to the prodigious of the whole, that provides\nthe true object of reverence, and permits the sense of mystery to\nremain even after the light has come.  Although the way of morality is\nevident and well-proved in direction, being plain to whomever will look\nat life with a fair and commanding eye, achievement is difficult, the\ngreat victories hard won, and the certain prospect bounded by a near\nhorizon.  Even though life be rationalized, it will none the less call\nfor intrepid faith; for what Maeterlinck calls \"the heroic,\ncloud-tipped, indefatigable energy of our conscience.\" [14]\n\n\n\n\n{72}\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHE ORDER OF VIRTUE\n\nI\n\nWe have thus far dealt with the general content of morality, and with\nits logical grounds.  Morality is only life where life is organized and\nconfident, the struggle for mere existence being replaced with the\nprospect of a progressive and limitless attainment.  The good is\nfulfilled desire; the moral good the fulfilment of a universal economy,\nembracing all desires, actual and possible, and providing for them as\nliberally as their mutual relations permit.  The moral good is simply\nthe greatest possible good, where good in the broad generic sense means\nany object of interest whatsoever, anything proved worth the seeking\nfrom the fact that some unit of life actually seeks it.  Whatever is\nprized is on that account precious.\n\nThe logic of morality rests on this objective relation between interest\nand value.  The maximum good has the greatest weight, its claims are\nentitled to priority, because it surpasses any limited good in\nincentive and promise of fulfilment.  Duty in this logical sense is\nsimply to {73} control of particular actions by a full recognition of\ntheir consequences.\n\nIn the present chapter the attention is shifted from the whole to the\nparts of morality.  I am not one of those who stake much on the\ncasuistical application of ethical principles.  Every particular action\nvirtually involves considerations of enormous complexity; and the\nindividual must be mainly guided by general rules of conduct or\nvirtues, which are proved by the cumulative experience of the race.\nLife itself is the only adequate experiment in living.  Virtues are\nproperly verified only in the history of society, in the development of\ninstitutions, and in the evidences of progress in civilization at\nlarge.  I shall confine myself, then, to such verified virtues, and\nseek to show their relation to morality as a whole.[1]\n\nVirtues vary in generality according to the degree to which they refer\nto special circumstance; and, since there is no limit to the variety of\ncircumstance, there is, strictly speaking, no final and comprehensive\norder of virtues.  The term may be applied with equal propriety to\ntypes of action as universal as justice and as particular as conjugal\nfidelity.  We shall find it necessary to confine ourselves to the more\ngeneral and fundamental virtues.\n\nI have adopted a method of classification to which I attach no absolute\nimportance, but which {74} will, I trust, serve to amplify and\nilluminate the fundamental conceptions which I have already formulated.\nI shall aim, in the first place, to make explicit a distinction which\nhas hitherto been obscured.  I refer to the difference between the\n_material_ and the _formal_ aspects of morality.  On the one hand,\naction is always engaged in the fulfilment of an immediate interest;\nthis constitutes its material goodness.  On the other hand, every moral\naction is limited or regulated by the provision which it makes for\nulterior interests; this constitutes its formal goodness.  Let me make\nthis difference more clear.\n\nA particular action is invariably connected with a particular interest;\nand in so far as it is successful it will thus be directly fruitful of\nfulfilment.  And it matters not how broad a purpose constitutes its\nultimate motive; for purposes can be served only through a variety of\nactivities, each of which will have its proximate interest and its own\ncontinuous yield of satisfaction.  Life pays as it goes, even though it\ngoes to the length of serving humanity at large, and the larger\nenterprises owe their very justification to this additive and\ncumulative principle.\n\nBut if action is to be moral it must always look beyond the present\nsatisfaction.  It must submit to such checks as are necessary for the\nrealization of a greater good.  Indeed, action is not wholly {75} good\nuntil it is controlled with reference to the fulfilment of the totality\nof interests.\n\nIt follows, then, that every action may be judged in two respects:\nfirst, in respect of its immediate return of fulfilment; second, in\nrespect of its bearing on all residual interests.  Every good action\nwill be both profitable and safe; both self-sustaining and also\nserviceable to the whole.\n\nThe necessity of determining the relative weight which is to be given\nto these two considerations accounts for the peculiar delicacy of the\nart of life, since it makes almost inevitable either the one or the\nother of two opposite errors of exaggeration.  The _undue assertion of\nthe present-interest_ constitutes materialism, in the moral sense.\nMaterialism is a forfeiture of greater good through preoccupation with\nnearer good.  It appears in an individual's neglect of his fellow's\ninterest, in his too easy satisfaction with good already attained, in\nshort-sighted policy on any scale.  Formalism, on the other hand,\nsignifies the _improvident exaggeration of ulterior motives_.  It is\ndue to a misapprehension concerning the relation between higher and\nlower interests.  I have sought to make it clear that higher interests\nowe their eminence, not to any intrinsic quality of their own, but to\nthe fact that they save and promote lower interests.  Formalism is the\n{76} rejection of lower interests in the name of some good that without\nthese interests is nothing.\n\nThe conflict between the material and formal motives in life is present\nin every moral crisis, and qualifies the meaning of every moral idea.\nIt may even provoke a social revolution, as in the case of the Puritan\nrevolution in England.  The Puritan is still the symbol of moral rigor\nand sobriety, as the Cavalier is the symbol of the love of life.  The\nfull meaning of morality tends constantly to be confused through\nidentifying it exclusively with the one or the other of these motives.\nThus morality has come, on the whole, to be associated with constraint\nand discipline, in both a favorable and a disparaging sense.  This has\nled to its being rejected as a falsification of life by those who\ninsist that every good thing is free and fair and pleasant.  And, even\namong those who recognize the vital necessity of discipline, morality\nis so narrowed to that component, that it commonly suggests only those\nscruples and inhibitions which destroy the spontaneity and\nwhole-heartedness of every activity.\n\nThat morality should tend to be identified with its formal rather than\nits material aspect is not strange; for it is the formal motive which\nis critical and corrective, substituting a conscious reconstruction of\ninterests for their initial movement.  It is this fact which gives to\nduty that {77} sense of compulsion which is so invariably associated\nwith it.  Duty is opposed to the line of least resistance, whenever\nlife is dominated by any motive short of the absolute good-will.  Thus\namong the Greeks, _dike_ is opposed to _bia_.[2]  This means simply\nthat because the principles of social organization are not as yet\nthoroughly assimilated, their adoption requires attention and effort.\nAnd a similar opposition may appear at either a higher or lower level,\nbetween the momentary impulse and the law of prudence, or between the\nhabit of worldliness and the law of piety.\n\nIn connection with this broad difference between the material and\nformal aspects of life, it is interesting to observe a certain\ndifference of leniency in the popular judgment.  Materialism is more\nheartily condemned, because he who is guilty of it is not alive to the\ngeneral good.  He is morally unregenerate.  Formalism, on the other\nhand, is good-hearted or well-intentioned.  He who is guilty of it may\nbe ridiculed as unpractical, or pitied for his misguided zeal; but\nsociety rarely offers to chastise him.  For he has submitted to\ndiscipline, and if he is not the friend of man, it is not because of\nany profit that he has reserved for himself.\n\nIn the arrangement which follows I shall use this difference between\nthe material and formal {78} aspects of morality to supplement the main\nprinciple of classification, which is that difference of level or\nrange, of which I have already made some use in the previous chapter,\nand which I shall now define more precisely.  In morality life is so\norganized as to provide for interests as liberally and comprehensively\nas possible.  But the principles through which such organization is\neffected will differ in the degree to which they accomplish that end.\nHence it is possible to define several economies or stages of\norganization which are successively more complete.  The _simple\ninterest_, first, is the isolated interest, pursued regardlessly of\nother interests; in other words, not as yet brought under the form of\nmorality.  The _reciprocity of interests_, represents that rudimentary\nform of morality in which interests enter only into an external\nrelation, through which they secure an exchange of benefits without\nabandoning their independence.  In the _incorporation of interests_,\nelementary interests are unified through a purpose which subordinates\nand regulates them.  The _fraternity of interests_, is that\norganization in which the rational or personal unit of interest is\nrecognized as final, and respected wherever it is met.  But there must\nalso be some last economy, in which provision is formally made for any\ninterest whatsoever that may assert itself.  This is the realm of {79}\ngood-will, or, as I shall call it for the sake of symmetry, the\n_universal system of interests_.  I shall so construe these economies\nas to make the broader or more inclusive comprehend the narrower.\n\nNow each of these economies possesses its characteristic principle of\norganization, or typical mode of action; and this enables us to define\nfive prime virtues: _intelligence, prudence, purpose, justice,_ and\n_good-will_.  From each of these virtues there accrues to life a\ncharacteristic benefit: from intelligence, _satisfaction_; from\nprudence, _health_; from purpose, _achievement_; from justice,\n_rational intercourse_; and from good-will, _religion_.  The absence of\nthese virtues defines a group of negative vices: _incapacity,\nimprudence, aimlessness, injustice,_ and _irreverence_.  Finally,\napplying the distinction between formalism and materialism, we obtain\ntwo further series of vices; for, with two exceptions, it is possible\nin each economy either to exaggerate the principle of organization, and\nthus neglect the constituent interests which it is intended to\norganize; or to exaggerate the good attained, and thus neglect the\nwider spheres beyond.  There will thus be a formalistic series of\nerrors: _asceticism, sentimentalism, anarchism, mysticism_; and a\nmaterialistic series: _overindulgence, sordidness, bigotry_ or _egoism,\nworldliness_.  Since materialism is in each case due to the lack of the\nnext higher {80} principle of organization, there is no real difference\nbetween the materialism of one economy and the negative vice of the\nnext.  But I have thought it worth while to retain both series, because\nthey represent a difference of emphasis which it is customary to make.\nThus there is no real difference between overindulgence and imprudence;\nbut one refers to the excess, and the other to the deficiency, in an\nactivity which is excessive in its fulfilment of a present interest,\nand deficient in its regard for ulterior interests.\n\nI have thought it best for the purpose of clear presentation to\ntabulate these virtues and vices; and it proves convenient, also, to\nadopt a fixed nomenclature.  It is unfortunate that the terms must be\ndrawn from common speech; for it is impossible that the meaning\nassigned to them in the course of a methodical analysis like the\npresent, should exactly coincide with that which they have acquired in\ntheir looser application to daily life.  But I shall endeavor always to\nmake plain the sense in which I use them; and, thus guarded, they will\nserve to mark out a series of special topics which it is important\nbriefly to review.\n\n{81}\n\n  ECONOMY     VIRTUE     VALUE     NEGATIVE     FORMALISM  MATERIALISM\n                                    VICE\n\n  Simple      Intelli-   Satis-    Incapacity   ------     Over-\n   Interest    gence      faction                           indulgence\n\n  Recipro-    Prudence   Health    Imprudence   Ascet-     Sordidness\n   city of                                       icism\n   Interests\n\n  Incorpor-   Purpose    Achieve-  Aimless-     Sentiment- Bigotry\n   ation of               ment      ness         alism      Egoism\n   Interests\n\n  Fraternity  Justice    Rational  Injustice    Anarchism  Worldliness\n   of                     Inter-\n   Interests              course\n\n  Universal   Good-Will  Religion  Irreverence  Mysticism  ------\n   System of\n   Interests\n\n\n{82}\n\nII\n\nWe have already had occasion to remark that no moral value attaches to\nthe successes and failures of the isolated or _simple interest_.  Thus\nit is customary not to apply judgments of approval or condemnation to\nthe vicissitudes of animal life.  So wholesale a generalization is\nundoubtedly false; but at any rate it is based on the supposition that\nthe motive in animal life is always simple.  And similarly, whenever\nhuman action is regarded only with reference to the impulse it\nimmediately serves, it is judged to be successful or futile, but never\nright or wrong.  These properties are reserved for such action as is\ncontrolled, or is capable of being controlled, with reference both to\nan immediate and also an ulterior interest.  But since the difference\nbetween goodness in the wider generic sense and goodness in the moral\nsense is one of complexity, it is proper and illuminating to bring them\ninto one orderly progression.\n\nThe _root-value_, then, of which all the higher moral values are\ncompounded, is the fulfilment or satisfaction of the particular\ninterest.  This fundamental value is conditioned by a form of\norganization, which I propose in a restricted sense to term\nintelligence.  I mean the capacity which every living interest must\npossess to {83} utilize the environment, to turn it to its own\nadvantage.  This is the distinguishing and essential capacity of life\nin every form.  A plant can continue to exist, and a sculptor can model\na statue, only through being so organized as to be able to assimilate\nwhat the environment offers.  Whether it be called tropism or\ntechnique, it is all one.  Intelligence in this sense may be said to be\nthe elementary virtue, conditioning success on every plane of activity.\n\nIn using such terms as \"satisfaction\" and \"success\" interchangeably\nwith so irreproachable a term as \"fulfilment,\" I may, until my meaning\nis wholly clear, seem to degrade morality.  But the tone of\ndisparagement in these first two terms is due to their having acquired\ncertain arbitrary associations.  It is supposed that to be satisfied is\nto be complacent, and that to be successful is to be hard and worldly.\nNow, a narrow satisfaction and a blind success are morally evil; but\nsatisfaction and success may be taken up into a life that is wholly\nwise and devoted.  They will, in fact, constitute the real body of\nvalue in any practical enterprise, from the least to the greatest.\n\nThe absence of intelligence, which I shall term _incapacity_, is the\none absolutely fatal defect from which life may suffer.  Incapacity\nembraces maladaptation, dulness, feebleness, {84} sickness, and death.\nLike its opposite it does not enter into the moral account except in so\nfar as it affects a group of interests, through being prejudicial to an\nindividual's efficiency or a community's welfare; but it will impair\nand annul attainment upon any plane.  The fault of incapacity attaches\nnot only to life that is rudimentary or defective, but also to the\nmechanical processes which have not been assimilated to any interest\nand thus lie outside the realm of value.  Incapacity in this sense is\nthat metaphysical evil of which philosophers speak.  It testifies to\nthe fact that the cosmos is only partially subject to judgments either\nof good or of evil; that value has a genesis and a history within an\nenvironment that is at best plastic and progressively submissive.\n\nIn terms of intelligence and incapacity, the basal excellence and the\nbasal fault, it is possible to define that whole affair of which\nmorality is the constructive phase: the attempt of life to establish\nitself in the midst of primordial lifelessness, to avert dissolution\nand death, and to extend and amplify itself to the uttermost.\n\nWithin the economy of the simple interest there is no possibility of\nformalism, since there is no subordination of interest to anything\nhigher than itself.  But we meet here with materialism in its purest\nform.  _Overindulgence_ is the fault {85} which attaches to the\nexclusive insistence of the isolated interest on itself; when it grows\nhead-strong, and is like to defeat itself through being blindly\npreoccupied.\n\nThe evil of overindulgence arises from two natural causes.  In the\nfirst place an interest is essentially self-perpetuating; in spite of\nperiodic moments of satiety, an interest fulfilled is renewed and\naccelerated.  Just in so far as it is clearly distinguished it\npossesses an impetus of its own, by which it tends to excess, until\ncorrected by the protest of some other interest which it infringes.\nOverindulgence is most common where such consequences are delayed or\nobscured by artificial means; hence its prevalence among those who can\nafford for a time to dissipate their strength, or have some means of\nreplenishing it.  And imprudence is common where the penalty is\ninsidious.  The corruption entailed by gluttony, inebriety, and\nincontinence may be slow and doubtful, or apparently remitted in\nmoments of recovery; but if one indulge himself in foolhardiness or\nviolence, he is like to be repaid on the spot.  Hence the latter forms\nof imprudence are more rare.  To avoid imprudence, it is necessary to\ndiscount that aspect which the interest wears within the period of its\nimmediate fulfilment, and thus avoid the necessity of repeating the\nhard and wasteful lesson of experience.  This {86} truth, which is the\nfirst principle of all practical wisdom, has been graphically\nrepresented in Jeremy Taylor's _Rules and Exercises of Holy Living_:\n\n\nLook upon pleasures not upon that side that is next the sun, or where\nthey look beauteously, that is, as they come towards you to be enjoyed;\nfor then they paint and smile, and dress themselves up in tinsel and\nglass gems and counterfeit imagery; but when thou hast rifled and\ndiscomposed them with enjoying their false beauties, and that they\nbegin to go off, then behold them in their nakedness and weariness.\nSee what a sigh and sorrow, what naked and unhandsome proportions and a\nfilthy carcass they discover; and the next time they counterfeit,\nremember what you have already discovered, and be no more abused.[3]\n\n\nThere is a second source of overindulgence, in the ever-increasing\ncomplexity of the moral economy.  The more numerous the interests; the\nmore difficult the task of attending to their connections and managing\ntheir adjustment.  Not only is the need of prudence never outgrown; it\nsteadily acquires both a greater urgency and a greater difficulty.\n\nIf incapacity may be said to be the metaphysical evil, the taint of the\ncosmos at large, overindulgence may be said to be the original sin, the\ntaint of life itself.  It is life's offence against itself, the denial\nof greater life for the sake of the little in hand.  It is the\nperennial failure of the {87} individual interest to unite itself with\nthat universal enterprise of which it is the microcosmic image.\n\n\nIII\n\nThe simplest _moral_ economy is that in which two or more interests are\n_reciprocally adjusted_ without being subordinated.  The principle of\norganization which defines such an economy is _prudence_.  Prudence\nbecomes necessary at the moment when interests come into such contact\nwith one another as provokes retaliation.  Thus, for example, interests\nreact on one another through being embodied in the same physical\norganism.  Each bodily activity depends on the well-being of\nco-ordinate functions, and if its exercise be so immoderate as to\ninjure these, it undermines itself.  _Moderation_ gains for special\ninterests the support of a general bodily health.\n\nBut bodily health is not the only medium of interdependence among the\ninterests of a single individual.  His interests must draw not only\nupon a common source of vitality, but also upon a common stock of\nmaterial resources.  The limitation of interests that follows from this\nfact is frugality or _thrift_, the practical working of the principle\nthat present waste is future lack, and that, therefore, to save now is\nto spend hereafter.  Thrift involves also a special emphasis on {88}\nlivelihood, since this is a source of supply for all particular\ninterests.\n\nThe social relation makes interests externally interdependent in a\ngreat variety of ways.  Interests must inhabit one space, exploit one\nphysical environment, and employ a common mode of communication.  If\nany interest so acts as unduly to divert one of these mediums to its\nown uses, it must suffer retaliation from the other interests that\nlikewise depend on that medium.  It is prudent to give even one's rival\nhalf the road, and to divide the spoils with him.  There is a politic\nform of _honesty_; and _veracity_ may be conceived only as a kind of\ncaution.  Thus Menander says: \"It is always best to speak the truth in\nall circumstances.  This is a precept which contributes most to safety\nof life.\" [4]  _Tact_ is only a more refined method of avoiding the\nantagonism of interests that operate within the same field of social\nintercourse.\n\nThe economy of prudence has its own characteristic value.  Indeed, if\nthis were not so there would be no possibility of that form of baseness\nknown as being _merely_ prudent.  There is a prudential equilibrium; a\ncondition of smooth and harmonious adjustment, within the personal life\nor the community.  I propose that this equilibrium be termed _health_.\nIn that admirable idealization of renaissance morality, Castiglione's\n{89} _Book of the Courtier_, the author refers to the immediate reward\nof self-control that comes both from inner harmony and the approbation\nof one's fellows.  To instil goodness into the mind, \"to teach\ncontinence, fortitude, justice, temperance,\" Castiglione would give his\nprince \"a taste of how much sweetness is hidden by the little\nbitterness that at first sight appears to him, who withstands vice;\nwhich is always hurtful and displeasing, and accompanied by infamy and\nblame, just as virtue is profitable, blithe, and full of praise.\" [5]\n\nSocially, the healthful equilibrium corresponds to that \"peace\" which\nHobbes praised above all things;[6] and which is all that is asked for\nby those who wish to be let alone in order that they may pursue their\nown affairs.  Although such peace may be ignominious, it need not be\nso; and a sense of security and reciprocal adjustment must remain among\nthe surviving values, whatever higher achievements be added to it.  But\nthe inherent value of health is most clearly defined by a nice\nequilibration of activities within the medium of the individual\norganism.  I borrow the following description of health in this sense\nfrom a recent book by H. G. Wells:\n\n\nThe balance as between asceticism and sensuality comes in, it seems to\nme, if we remember that to drink well one must not have drunken for\nsome time, {90} that to see well one's eye must be clear, that to make\nlove well one must be fit and gracious and sweet and disciplined from\ntop to toe, that the finest sense of all--the joyous sense of bodily\nwell-being--comes only with exercises and restraints and fine living.[7]\n\n\nThe temperance praised by the Greeks is of like quality, with a further\nreference to the reasonableness which it fosters.  A prudence which is\nmastered, which has become a spontaneity, delivers reason from bondage,\nand makes the whole of life easily conformable to it.  Thus\nCastiglione, who is so often reminiscent of Plato and Aristotle, draws\na contrast between continence, as the \"conquest\" of prudence, and\ntemperance as its \"beneficent rule.\"\n\n\nThus this virtue does not compel the mind, but infusing it by very\ngentle means with a vehement belief that inclines it to righteousness,\nrenders it calm and full of rest, in all things equal and well\nmeasured, and disposed on every side by a certain self-accord which\nadorns it with a tranquillity so serene that it is never ruffled, and\nbecomes in all things very obedient to reason and ready to turn its\nevery act thereto and to follow wherever reason may wish to lead it,\nwithout the least unwillingness.[8]\n\n\nSuch is that prudence which, though rich in its own right, is\nnevertheless subordinate to greater good.\n\nIt is proper to regard prudence as inferior in principle to purpose and\ngood-will, or even as ignoble when confirmed in its narrowness.  It\n{91} denotes an organization of life in which as yet no interest has\nrisen above the rest; it bespeaks the common populace of interests,\ndisciplined, but not moved to any eminent achievement.  The fact that\nthe validity of the principle of prudence is so readily granted is\nsignificant of this.  Prudence requires no interest to be other than\nitself, but meets it on its own ground.  There is no elevation of\nmotive.\n\nBut prudence is the first and most instructive lesson in morality.  It\nhas a peculiar impressiveness, not only because it is so promptly and\nunmistakably verified, but because it is so close to life.  Its meaning\nis unlikely to be obscured through being abstracted from the real\ninterests whose saving is the proof of its virtue.  Furthermore,\nalthough prudence is not the highest principle in life, it is a mistake\nto suppose that it is therefore unnecessary in the highest spheres of\nlife.  There is a problem of prudence that underlies every practical\nproblem whatsoever.  If interests are to be organized they must be not\nonly subordinated but also co-ordinated, that is, adjusted within every\nmedium in which they meet.  Without moderation, caution, self-control,\nthrift, and tact there is no serving man or God.  As life increases in\ncomplexity it is easy to forget these basal precepts.  Nature has\nprovided a model, both simple and fundamental, in physical health.\n{92} \"The body,\" says Burke, \"is wiser in its own plain way, and\nattends its own business more directly than the mind with all its\nboasted subtilty.\" [9]\n\nThe prudential organization of life furnishes the first type of\n_formalism_.  Prudence requires that the interest shall be limited in\norder that it may not antagonize other interests and thus indirectly\ndefeat itself.  Discipline is justified, in other words, by its fruits.\nBut discipline involves an initial moment of negation, in which the\nmovement of the interest is resisted.  It must be checked, and its\nheadway overcome, if it is to be redirected.  The exaggeration of this\nmoment of negation, or a steady persistence in it, is _asceticism_.\nIts fault lies in its emptiness, in its destruction or perversion of\nthat which it was designed only to protect against itself.\n\nAsceticism appears most frequently as a subordinate motive in some\ngeneral condemnation of the world on religious grounds, and must\nreceive further consideration in that connection.  Its proper meaning\nas a purely prudential formalism is best exhibited in the Greek Cynics.\nThese philosophers were moved to mortify the flesh, and to deny their\nsocial interests, by extreme caution.  They discovered that the safest\nmethod of adjustment was simplification.  If one permits one's self no\ndesires, one need not suffer {93} from their conflict, nor need one\ntreat with the desires of others.  Now this would be a very perfect\nsolution of the problem of adjustment, if only there were something\nleft to adjust.  If a Cynic can attain to a state of renunciation in\nwhich he wants nothing, he will be sure of having what he wants; only,\nunfortunately, it will be nothing.  Epictetus has thus represented the\nCynic's boast:\n\n\nLook at me, who am without a city, without a house, without\npossessions, without a slave; I sleep on the ground; I have no wife, no\nchildren, no praetorium, but only the earth and heavens, and one poor\ncloak.  And what do I want? am I not without sorrow?  Am I not without\nfear?  Am I not free?\n\n\nNow it is clear that the sum of the Cynics' attainments is not large.\nIt consists, indeed, almost wholly in a certain hardened complacency,\nand a freedom to make faces at the world.  To the onlooker, whose\ncomment Epictetus also records, their aspect is mean:\n\n\nNo: but their characteristic is the little wallet, and staff, and great\njaws; the devouring of all that you give them, or storing it up, or the\nabusing unseasonably all whom they meet, or displaying their shoulder\nas a fine thing.[10]\n\n\nIn other words, since the Cynic continues to live after having rejected\nthe proper instruments and forms of life, he must make a living out of\nthe charitable curiosity excited by his very unfitness.  {94} And\nasceticism of this prudential type tends always to be both empty and\nmonstrous; empty because it denies life, and monstrous because life is\nnot really denied, but only perverted and awkwardly obstructed.\n\nThere is a materialistic evil corresponding to the prudential\norganization of life which is known as meanness, vulgarity, or\n_sordidness_.  It denotes a failure to recognize anything better than\nthe fulfilment of the simple interests in their severalty.  Although\nguarded and adjusted these still determine the general tone of life.\nThe controlling motive, the standard of attainment, is never anything\nhigher than the elementary desire with its attendant satisfaction.  In\nits negative aspect this is termed _aimlessness_, and is identical with\nthe Christian vice of idleness, so graphically described by Jeremy\nTaylor:\n\n\nIdleness is called _the sin of Sodom and her daughters_, and indeed is\n_the burial of a living man_, an idle person being so useless to any\npurposes of God and man, that he is like one that is dead, unconcerned\nin the changes and necessities of the world; and he only lives to spend\nhis time, and eat the fruits of the earth: like a vermin or a wolf,\nwhen their time comes they die and perish, and in the meantime do no\ngood; they neither plough nor carry burdens; all they do is either\nunprofitable or mischievous.[11]\n\n\nThus aimlessness denotes a failure to attain anything of worth; a lack\nof consecutiveness and {95} unity.  The correction of this fault lies\nin a new principle of organization.\n\n\nIV\n\nThis new principle of organization consists in the _incorporation of\ninterests_, that is, their subordination to a _purpose_ that embraces\nthem, unifies them, and carries the whole to a successful issue.  The\nincorporation of interests is peculiarly an intellectual process.  It\nis this to which Socrates refers when he says that _knowledge is\nvirtue_.  Purpose requires, in the first place, that one should define\nand foresee the end, and in the second place, that one should be\nsagacious and watchful in the service of it.  Purpose is the virtue of\nthe understanding, of a mind which is adventurous enough to project an\nenterprise, but has enough of home-keeping wit to judge nicely of cause\nand effect or of part and whole.\n\nThere are many virtues which contribute to purpose, and of these none\nis more indispensable than _patience_, or the capacity to labor without\nhire for a prize deferred.  \"Better is the end of a thing,\" says the\nPreacher, \"than the beginning thereof: and the patient in spirit is\nbetter than the proud in spirit.\"  Steadiness of purpose under adverse\nor confusing circumstances is called _persistence, courage, loyalty,_\nor _zeal_, with {96} differences of meaning that reflect the nature\neither of the purpose or the circumstances.\n\nBut since purpose is so much an intellectual virtue, special importance\nattaches in this economy to _truthfulness_.  If one's purpose be some\nform of personal achievement, one must deal honestly with one's self.\nAnd this is not easily done.  Epictetus told his pupils that men were\nloath to admit any fault that they held to be really blameworthy:\n\n\nSome things men readily confess, and other things they do not.  No one\nthen will confess that he is a fool or without understanding; but quite\nthe contrary you will hear all men saying, I wish that I had fortune\nequal to my understanding.  But men readily confess that they are\ntimid, and they say: I am rather timid, I confess; but as to other\nrespects you will not find me to be foolish.  A man will not readily\nconfess that he is intemperate; and that he is unjust, he will not\nconfess at all.  He will by no means confess that he is envious or a\nbusybody.  Most men will confess that they are compassionate.[12]\n\n\nNow if one is to attain anything difficult, he cannot afford to indulge\nin vanity or self-satisfaction; for action can be kept true to its end\nonly when the least obliquity is marked and corrected.  Hence the\nstrong man does not attribute his failure to fortune or to his amiable\nvirtues, but to his folly; for he knows that to be the crucial fault\nwhich it lies within his power to remedy.  On the other hand, if the\npurpose be one {97} which involves the co-operation of several persons,\nit is necessary that these should deal openly and candidly with one\nanother.  Truthfulness is a condition of any collective undertaking.\nIt is interesting to observe the growing recognition of the need of\npublicity wherever democratic institutions prevail.  Secrecy is a sort\nof treason.  If men are to work together for their common welfare they\nmust be truly in touch with one another; otherwise there is a spy at\ntheir councils, an incalculable force that may counterwork their plans.\n\n_Achievement_, the value which the virtue of purpose conditions, needs\nno moralist's justification.  The world never tires of praising it, for\nit is the world's business.  By achievement I mean the fulfilment by\nsubordinated and cumulative effort of an interest deliberately adopted\nfor its greatness of value.  Life is now controlled not by the accident\nof desire, but by the due preference of the better.  It has begun to be\nrational not only in its method, but also in its aim.  It is now more\nfruitful, because more broadly conceived, being engaged in enterprises\nwhich continue, and which draw from many sources.  Hence a man can\nbetter endure the spectacle of his own life, for it seems not to be\nwholly mean or ineffectual.  In that his conduct is unified,\nconsistent, and directed to some worthy {98} end, he is possessed of\nthat quality of character which is respected in him both by himself and\nby his fellows.\n\nIt is unfortunate that there is no better term than _sentimentalism_\nwith which to indicate that variety of formalism which is\ncharacteristic of the purposive economy.  The fallacy consists\nessentially in the abstraction of the purpose from its constituent\ninterests.  The true value of a purpose lies in its function of\norganization; and is, therefore, inseparable from the interests to\nwhich it gives unity and fulfilment.  But its form, or even its mere\nname, may, through association, come to acquire a fictitious value.\nWhen this fictitious value gives rise in contemplation or discourse to\na certain emotional satisfaction, we employ the term \"sentimentalism\"\nin the conventional sense.  This is the sentimentalism of those\n\n  \"Who sigh for wretchedness, yet shun the wretched,\n  Nursing in some delicious solitude\n  Their slothful loves and dainty sympathies.\"\n\n\nI wish, however, to emphasize a more insidious variety of this error,\nin which it may be more profoundly and fatally confusing.  I refer, in\nthe first place, to what may be described as _deferred living_.  There\nis a popular illusion to the effect that a life purpose is to be\nfruitful only at the end; that it is something to be prepared for in\nyouth, worked for in maturity, and attained--well, {99} it is difficult\nto say when.  This is the fallacy of heaven transferred to earth.  \"Man\nnever is, but always to be blest.\"  Life is conceived as a sentence at\nhard labor, the only sure compensation being the ultimate deliverance.\nNow there is but one justification of a life purpose, and that is its\nconserving of the whole of life; it must save each day and each hour.\nThere is no more virtue in the future than in the present.  \"The\ngreatest disaster,\" says a Greek proverb, \"is for a man to be opened\nand found empty\"; and this does not refer to an autopsy.  It is at\nleast one function of a life-purpose to make life distributively and\ncontinuously good.  That one's life shall be pointed with a purpose\ndoes not mean that it shall be reduced to a point.  The very virtue of\norganization lies in its making room for the free play of immediate and\nparticular interests, in its surrounding them at a distance with\ninvisible safeguards.\n\nA second important case of sentimentalism is _nationalism_.  The value\nof the state lies in its protection and development of the concrete\nlife of the community.  The true object of patriotism is social\nwelfare.  But for the state as a provident economy, there may be\nsubstituted as an object of loyalty what is only an idea or a name; and\nwhen this is done men are easily persuaded to play into the hands of\nunscrupulous leaders.  {100} To the abominable tyrannies which have\nthus been made possible I need not refer.  In Hegel's philosophy of\nhistory,[13] as well as in many modern political theories, this error\nhas been deliberately affirmed.  But for illustration I prefer to turn\nto the case of Plato.  The _Republic_ was conceived, it is true,\nwithout bias of party or race, but there is none the less a strain of\narbitrariness and illiberality in it.  This is due to the fact that the\nstate is conceived by itself, with a quality and perfection of its own\nthat displaces the interests of its citizens.[14]  A state which is\ndefined otherwise than as a provision for the very diversity of life,\nan organization responsive to pressure from every constituent desire,\nfails from over-simplification.  This I take to be the meaning of\nAristotle's comment on the _Republic_:\n\n\nThe error of Socrates must be attributed to the false notion of unity\nfrom which he starts.  Unity there should be, both of the family and of\nthe state, but in some respects only.  For there is a point at which a\nstate may attain such a degree of unity as to be no longer a state, or\nat which, without actually ceasing to exist, it will become an inferior\nstate, like harmony passing into unison, or rhythm which has been\nreduced to single foot.  The state is a plurality, which should be\nunited and made into a community by education.[15]\n\n\nThere is a chapter in the _Discourses_ of Epictetus, entitled: \"To or\nagainst those who obstinately Persist in what they have determined.\"\n{101} There could, I think, be no better formulation of purpose grown\nhard and unworthily self-sufficient.  This form of materialism I have\ntermed _egoism_ and _bigotry_, since the purpose may be either personal\nor social in scope.  But in either case the diagnosis of Epictetus goes\nto the root of the evil.  He thus describes his experience with one of\nhis companions, \"who for no reason resolved to starve himself to death\":\n\n\nI heard of it when it was the third day of his abstinence from food,\nand I went to inquire what had happened.\n\n\"I have resolved,\" he said.\n\n\"But still tell me what it was which induced you to resolve; for if you\nhave resolved rightly, we shall sit with you and assist you to depart;\nbut if you have made an unreasonable resolution, change your mind.\"\n\n\"We ought to keep our determinations.\"\n\n\"What are you doing, man?  We ought to keep not to all our\ndeterminations, but to those which are right; for if you are now\npersuaded that it is right, do not change your mind, if you think fit,\nbut persist and say, we ought to abide by our determinations.  Will you\nnot make the beginning and lay the foundation in an inquiry whether the\ndetermination is sound or not sound, and so then build on it firmness\nand security?\" . . .\n\nNow this man was with difficulty persuaded to change his mind.  But it\nis impossible to convince some persons at present; so that I seem now\nto know, what I did not know before, the meaning of the common saying,\nThat you can neither persuade nor break a fool.  May it never be my lot\nto have a wise fool for my friend: nothing is more untractable.  \"I\n{102} am determined,\" the man says.  Madmen are also; but the more\nfirmly they form a judgment on things which do not exist, the more\nellebore they require.[16]\n\n\nThe wise fool is, as Epictetus says, more intractable than the aimless\nand unwitting fool; because there is substance to his folly.  There is\nat least some truth on his side.  But his folly is folly none the less.\nHe hardens himself against that which would save him; while boasting\nhimself a lover of light, he shuts his eyes lest any ray of it\npenetrate to him.  Thus the egoist, through the atrophy of his\nsympathies and his preoccupation with a narrow ambition, gratuitously\nimpoverishes his life; and it is difficult to convince him of his loss,\nbecause he indubitably has some gain.\n\nBigotry consists essentially in the failure to employ the method of\ndiscussion, in the failure to recognize in every rational being a\npossible source of that truth which all need.  It is a stupid\nforfeiture or waste of the resources of intelligence possessed by one's\nfellows.  The King Creon of Sophocles's _Antigone_ is a masterly\nrepresentation of the futility of this pride of opinion.  Creon angrily\nresents every impeachment of his wisdom, insisting on instant and\nunquestioning obedience.  But his son Haemon thus attempts to save him\nfrom himself:\n\n\nFather, the gods plant wisdom in mankind, which is of all possessions\nhighest.  In what respects you {103} have not spoken rightly I cannot\nsay, and may I never learn; and still it may be possible for some one\nelse to be right too. . . .  Do not then carry in your heart one fixed\nbelief that what you say and nothing else is right.  For he who thinks\nthat he alone is wise, or that he has a tongue and mind no other has,\nwill when laid open be found empty.[17]\n\n\nIt was once a practice even among learned men to set personal pride\nabove the truth.  The chancellor of the University of Paris complains\nof this practice in the Middle Ages:\n\n\nWhat are these combats of scholars, if not true cock-fights, which\ncover us with ridicule in the eyes of laymen?  A cock draws himself up\nagainst another and bristles his feathers. . . .  It is the same to-day\nwith our professors.  Cocks fight with blows from their beaks and\nclaws; \"Self-love,\" as some one has said, \"is armed with a dangerous\nspur.\" [18]\n\n\nEgoism and bigotry, then, consist essentially in the exaggeration and\nimmobility of an adopted purpose.  As is the case with every variety of\nmaterialism, their fault lies in their blindness, in their fatuous\nrejection of the good that is offered to them.  But this is not all.\nFor in denying the good which is offered to him, the egoist or bigot\nalso virtually denies the reason which offers it.  It is this that\nconstitutes the affront which is called _injustice_.\n\nThe full meaning of injustice has been recognised only gradually, and\nit is even now by no means free from confusion.  But I think that it\n{104} will be agreed that the sting of it is a failing in respect.\nViolence may be wholly without this taint; and the most bitter\ninjustice may be wholly without violence.  To be unjust is to be\ncondescending or supercilious; to assume superiority on personal\ngrounds, ignoring the equal access to truth which is enjoyed by every\nrational being.  The nice quality of injustice is most clearly to be\napprehended where it is accompanied by benevolent intent.  It is one of\nthe princely attributes described in the _Book of the Courtier_, and\njustified in a manner that leaves no doubt of its implied meaning:\n\n\nTrue it is that there are two modes of ruling: the one imperious and\nviolent, like that of masters toward their slaves, and in this way the\nsoul commands the body; the other more mild and gentle, like that of\ngood princes by means of laws over their subjects, and in this way the\nreason commands the appetite; and both of these modes are useful, for\nthe body is by nature created apt for obedience to the soul, and so is\nappetite for obedience to reason.  Moreover, there are many men whose\nactions have to do only with the use of the body; and such as these are\nas far from virtuous as the soul from the body, and although they are\nrational creatures, they have only such share of reason as to recognize\nit, but not to possess or profit by it.  These, therefore, are\nnaturally slaves, and it is better and more profitable for them to obey\nthan to command.[19]\n\n\nNow the essence of injustice lies in this Platonic manner of\nclassifying human beings in terms of {105} limited capacities; in\nassigning to some the degraded status of the appetites, and to others a\nlimited faculty of understanding, while arrogating to a few the full\npower and title of Reason.  The resentment of this arrogance is no more\nthan the assertion of that potentiality of reason which distinguishes\nthe animal man; it is his inevitable coming of age, his determination\nto play the man's part.\n\n\nV\n\n_Justice_ is the mutual respect through which rational purposes enter\ninto a relation of _fraternal equality_.  It is the courteous paying of\nhonor where honor is due.  In modern times justice has very properly\nbeen identified with _tolerance_, which is the acknowledgment that one\nis one's self equally liable to error with another, and that another is\nequally liable to truth with one's self.  Justice attaches a certain\nfinality to the judgment of every individual instrument of reason.\nUnder the form of justice _veracity_ realizes its highest meaning.  The\ntruth is not to be administered with paternal indulgence or caution; it\nis to be yielded as a right to every free and self-determining mind.\n\nThe practice and the spirit of justice pervade every highly developed\nsocial grouping, such as marriage, friendship, or fellow-citizenship in\na democracy.  For Aristotle a friendship is \"one {106} soul dwelling in\ntwo bodies\";[20] that is, the same high capacity uniting two\nindividuals in the acknowledgment of its common principles, and in the\ncontemplation of its common objects.  Aristotle's other saying, that\n\"man is a political animal,\" is inspired with the same meaning.  To\nparticipate in the life of a state, in which one's fellow-citizens were\none's equals, in which men with equal endowments carried on one united\nactivity while acknowledging one another's independence, was to an\nAthenian the very fulness of life.  To be banished from it was, even in\nthe eyes of the law, equivalent to death.\n\nIn a chapter of his _Physics and Politics_, entitled \"The Age of\nDiscussion,\" Bagehot has admirably represented the importance for human\nprogress of an open exchange of opinion on all matters of great\nconsequence:\n\n\nIn this manner all the great movements of thought in ancient and modern\ntimes have been nearly connected in time with government by discussion.\nAthens, Rome, the Italian republics of the Middle Ages, the communes\nand states-general of feudal Europe, have all had a special and\npeculiar quickening influence, which they owed to their freedom, and\nwhich states without that freedom have never communicated.  And it has\nbeen at the time of great epochs of thought--at the Peloponnesian War,\nat the fall of the Roman Republic, at the Reformation, at the French\nRevolution--that such liberty of speaking and thinking have produced\ntheir full effect.[21]\n\n\n{107} Elsewhere Bagehot attributes to freedom of discussion, not only\nthe deliverance from narrow and conventional habits, but that general\nelevation of tone which is characteristic of such an era as the\nElizabethan age in England.  In short, justice or toleration, since it\nencourages men to push on to the limit of their powers, promotes not\nonly originality and diversity, but a love of perfection.\n\nIt will have been observed that justice and freedom are complementary,\nfor he who is just liberates, and he who is free receives justice.\nTogether they constitute the basis of all the higher relationships\nbetween men, of a progressive society, and of the whole constructive\nmovement which we call civilization.\n\nBut it is possible to construe justice and freedom only negatively, as\nmeaning that the individual is to be allowed to go his way in peace.\nSuch a misconception is formalistic, in that it rests on a failure to\nrecognize the providence or fruitfulness of justice.  The virtue of\njustice lies not in its disintegration of society, but in its enabling\nthe members of society to unite upon the highest plane of endeavor.\nJustice is a method wherewith men may profit collectively, and in their\norganized effort, from a sum of enlightenment to which every individual\ncontributes his best.  _Anarchism_ rests in the negative protest\nagainst {108} conformity; forgetting that the only right to liberty is\nfounded on the possession of a reasonableness that inclines the\nindividual to the universal; and forgetting that the only virtue in\nliberty lies in the opportunity for union and devotion which it\nprovides.\n\nThere is a more restricted form of anarchism in _scepticism_ which\nattaches finality to differences of opinion, and overlooks the fact\nthat these very differences must be regarded as converging approaches\nto the common truth.  For men can differ only in the presence of\nidentical objects which virtually annul their difference.  To be free\nto think as one pleases cannot but mean to think as truly as possible,\nand so to approach as closely as possible to what others also tend to\nthink.\n\nBut a larger importance attaches to that mild variety of anarchism\nwhich is commonly called _laissez-faire_, and which Matthew Arnold\ncalls British Atheism or Quietism.  The reader will recall Arnold's\nquotation from the _Times_:\n\n\nIt is of no use for us to attempt to force upon our neighbors our\nseveral likings and dislikings.  We must take things as they are.\nEverybody has his own little vision of religious or civil perfection.\nUnder the evident impossibility of satisfying everybody, we agree to\ntake our stand on equal laws and on a system as open and liberal as is\npossible.  The result is that everybody has more liberty of action and\nof speaking here than anywhere else in the Old World.\n\n\n{109} And from Mr. Roebuck:\n\n\nI look around me and ask what is the state of England?  Is not every\nman able to say what he likes?  I ask you whether the world over, or in\npast history, there is anything like it?  Nothing.  I pray that our\nunrivalled happiness may last.[22]\n\n\nThis is an almost perfect representation of the sentimental interest in\njustice.  In the course of such justice, \"none of us should see\nsalvation.\"  It leaves wholly out of account the fact that when men are\nleft free to talk or act or live as they will, they will either\nstagnate, or they will strive for the best and help it to prevail.  If\nthe latter, they will be brought back to the _state as the means of\nmaking right reason effective_, and of extending to all not simply the\nleave to be what they want to be, of following what Arnold calls their\n\"natural taste of the bathos,\" but the opportunity of learning better.\n\nJustice, like purpose and prudence, is a principle of organization,\nowing its virtue to the larger fulfilment of interest which it makes\npossible.  Through this principle the individual is granted\nindependence, in order that his freedom may remove every limit from his\nservice.  He is delivered from the bondage of violence and convention,\nbut he is delivered into the charge of his own reason, which must give\nbonds not only that he will keep the peace, but that he will give {110}\nhimself wholly to that true good which he may now discern.\n\nIn justice the human secular society is perfected.  By a secular\nsociety I mean a society held to be self-sufficient as it is; a society\nin which only those interests are acknowledged which are actually\npresent, or have actually been admitted to a place of power or\nprestige.  But secularism or _worldliness_ in this sense suffers from\nthe general error of materialism, the error of mistaking the _de facto_\ngood for the whole good.  It is only another case of that blindness\nwhich is the penalty of all self-sufficiency.  The ancient and the\nmodern types of worldliness present an interesting difference which\nwill serve to illustrate their common fault.\n\nGreek literature abounds in the glorification of the life already\nachieved.  Thus Solon asks no more of the gods than to be fortunate and\nhonored: \"Grant unto me wealth from the blessed gods, and to have alway\nfair fame in the eyes of all men.  Grant that I may thus be dear to my\nfriends, and bitter to my foes; revered in the sight of the one, awful\nin the sight of the other.\" [23]\n\nTo this Pindar adds the petition that, \"being dead I may set upon my\nchildren a name that shall be of no ill report.\" [24]  Even the ideal\nof the philosophers is only a refinement of this; {111} recognizing the\nsuperiority of such activities as engage the imagination or reason, but\nnevertheless finding happiness to be complete in terms of the\nfulfilment of the dominant desires within the existing political\ncommunity.  This conception was vaguely distrusted, it is true; but it\nrepresents the characteristic enlightenment of the most enlightened\ncentre of Greek life.  Its insufficiency was not clearly demonstrated\nuntil the advent of Christianity; when it was proved to lie in a lack\nof _pity_.  Now pity is not, as is sometimes supposed, a kind of\nweakness; it is a kind of knowledge, wherewith men are reminded of\nobscure and neglected interests.  It is easy to understand why the\nChristian revolution should have been regarded as destructive of\nculture.  For it meant not the qualitative refinement of the good, but\nthe quantitative distribution of it.  But it none the less marks an\nepoch in moral enlightenment; since the bringing of all men up to one\nlevel of opportunity and welfare is as essential a part of the good as\nthe cultivation of distinction.\n\nThe modern worldliness consists not in a lack of pity, but in a lack of\n_imagination_.  Philistinism, as Matthew Arnold describes it, is a\ncomplacent satisfaction with the _kind_ of good that is praised and\nsought for in any given time.  Such complacency is found in its most\nextreme form among those reformers or even religious leaders who are\n{112} devoted to the saving of men; for these come to overrate their\nwares through the very act of pressing them upon others.  Matthew\nArnold never tires of illustrating this from the Liberal propaganda of\nhis day:\n\n\nAnd I say that the English reliance on our religious organisations and\non their ideas of human perfection just as they stand, is like our\nreliance on freedom, on muscular Christianity, on population, on coal,\non wealth--mere belief in machinery, and unfruitful; and that it is\nwholesomely counteracted by culture, bent on seeing things as they are,\nand on drawing the human race onwards to a more complete, a harmonious\nperfection.[25]\n\n\nIn other words, both humanism and humanitarianism may be lacking in\nhumanity: humanism, on account of its insensibility to pain and hunger\nand poverty when these lie outside a narrow radius of bright intensive\nliving; humanitarianism, on account of its failure to honor the highest\ntype of attainment and to prefigure a perfection not yet realized.\n\n\nVI\n\nThere is but one economy of interests which furnishes the proper sphere\nof moral action, namely, the universal economy which embraces within\none system all interests whatsoever, present, remote, and potential.\nThe validity of this economy lies in the fact that the goodness of\naction cannot {113} be judged without reference to all the interests\naffected, whether directly or indirectly.  To live well is to live for\nall life.  The control of action by this motive is the virtue of\n_good-will_.  It should be added that the good will must be not only\ncompassionate, but just; offering to help, without failing to respect.\nAnd it must be not only devoted, but also enlightened; serving, but not\nwithout self-criticism and insight.\n\nSuch a programme need not seem bewildering or quixotic.  If my action\ndoes not offend those most nearly concerned, it will scarcely offend\nthose removed by space, time, or indirection.  Charity begun at home is\nspread abroad without my further endeavor.  Furthermore, it is\ngood-will rather than a narrow complacency that inspires my assuming of\nthe special tasks and responsibilities defined by proximity, descent,\nand special aptitude.  Life as a whole is built out of individual\nopportunities and vocations.  It is required only that while I live\neffectively and happily, as circumstance or choice may determine, I\nshould conform myself to those principles which harmonize life with\nlife, and bring an abundance on the whole out of the fruitfulness of\nindividual effort.\n\nGood-will is the moral condition of religion, where this is corrected\nby enlightenment.  The religion of good-will is best illustrated, from\nthe {114} European tradition, in the transition from paganism to\nChristianity.  I have said that the Greeks were not without distrust of\nthat natural and worldly happiness which they most praised.  This, for\nexample, is the testimony of Euripides:\n\n          Long ago\n  I looked upon man's days, and found a grey\n  Shadow.  And this thing more I surely say,\n  That those of all men who are counted wise,\n  Strong wits, devisers of great policies,\n  Do pay the bitterest toll.  Since life began;\n  Hath there in God's eye stood one happy man?\n  Fair days roll on, and bear more gifts or less\n  Of fortune, but to no man happiness.[26]\n\nThis note of pessimism grows more marked among the philosophers, and is\nat length taken up into the Christian renunciation of the world.  The\nphilosophers attempted to devise a way of happiness which the superior\nindividual might follow through detaching himself from political\nsociety and cultivating his speculative powers.[27]  But the Christian\nrenunciation involved the abandonment of every claim to individual\nself-sufficiency, even the pride of reason.  It expressed a sense of\nthe general plight of humanity, and looked for relief only through a\npower with love and might enough to save all.  Hence there is this\nfundamental difference between pagan and Christian pessimism: the pagan\nconfesses his powerlessness to make himself impregnable {115} to\nfortune, while the Christian convicts himself of sin, confessing his\nworthlessness when measured by the task of universal salvation.  The\none pities and absolves himself; the other condemns himself.\n\nNow the other-worldliness of Christianity was without doubt a grave\nerror, which it found itself compelled to correct; but it was none the\nless the vehicle through which European civilization became possessed\nof the most important secrets of religious happiness.  In the first\nplace, all are made sharers, through sympathy, in the failure of the\npresent; and, thus distributed, the burden is lightened.  \"It is an act\nwithin the power of charity,\" says Sir Thomas Browne, \"to translate a\npassion out of one breast into another, and to divide a sorrow almost\nout of itself; for an affliction, like a dimension, may be so divided\nas, if not indivisible, at least to become insensible.\" [28]  In the\nsecond place, it is understood that there is no such thing as a\nhappiness that is enjoyed at the expense of others and by the special\nfavor of fortune.  There is no promise of individual salvation save in\nthe salvation of all.  A private and protected happiness is bound\nsooner or later to be destroyed by an increase of sensibility, by an\nenlightened awareness of the evil beyond.  And to experience evil, to\nrealize it, and yet to be content, lies not within {116} the power of\nany moral being; it is not merely difficult, it is self-contradictory.\nTo any one who judges himself fairly, with a wide and vivid image of\nlife as it is in all its ramifications and obscurities, the evil of the\nworld is all one.  It follows that, as there is no perfect happiness\nexcept in the annihilation of evil, so there can be no peace of mind,\nno self-respect, no sense of living truly and for the best, unless\none's action can be conceived as wholly saving and up-building, as\ncontributing in its place and in its way to the general forward\nmovement.  This, I think, is the deeper explanation of the buoyancy of\ndevoted people, of that buoyancy which was a source of such great\nwonder to the disillusioned wise men of ancient times.  And this, I\nthink, is the meaning of the Christian teaching that it is more blessed\nto give than to receive; and that the love of one's God is to grow out\nof the love of one's neighbor.\n\nI have endeavored to show that the highest good is the greatest good;\nthat it may not only be inferred from the present good, but that it\nactually _consists_ of the present good, with more like it, and with\nthe present evil eliminated.  By _mysticism_ I mean that species of\nformalism in which the highest good, out of respect for its exaltation,\nis divorced from the present good, and so emptied of content.\nProfessor James has said that it is {117} characteristic of\nrationalists and sentimentalists, to \"extract a quality from the muddy\nparticulars of experience, and find it so pure when extracted that they\ncontrast it with each and all its muddy instances as an opposite and\nhigher, nature.\" [29]  There is a peculiar liability to such\nabstraction in religion, for religion involves a judgment of\ninsufficiency against every limited achievement.  A longing after\nunqualified good is the very breath of enlightened religion; and in\norder that that ideal may be kept pure, it must not be identified with\nany partial good.  Indeed, the office of religion requires it to\ncondemn as only partial, good that is commonly taken to be sufficient.\nNow there is only one way of defining a good that shall be universal\nwithout being merely formal, and that is by defining perfection\nquantitatively rather than qualitatively; substituting for the Platonic\nAbsolute Good, in which the present good is refined away into a phrase\nor symbol, the maximum good, in which the present good is saved and\nmultiplied.  He who believes that he conceives goodness otherwise than\nas the good which he already possesses, deceives himself; as does the\nauthor of the _Religio Medici_, when he says:\n\n\nThat wherein God Himself is happy, the holy Angels are happy, in whose\ndefect the Devils are unhappy, that dare I call happiness; whatsoever\n{118} conduceth unto this may with an easy Metaphor deserve that name;\nwhatsoever else the World terms Happiness, is to me a story out of\nPliny, a tale of Boccace or Malizspini, an apparition, or neat\ndelusion, wherein there is no more of Happiness than the name.  Bless\nme in this life with but peace of my Conscience, command of my\naffections, the love of Thyself and my dearest friends, and I shall be\nhappy enough to pity Caesar.[30]\n\n\nNow it is safe to say that Sir Thomas Browne was in fact unable to\nattribute to God and the angels any other happiness than these same\nblessings which he covets for himself, saving only that they shall be\nwithout stint, and joined with others like them.\n\nFormalism, as we have seen, is never merely negative in its\nconsequences; for any moral untruth, since it replaces a truth, cannot\nfail to pervert life.  Thus one may be persuaded with the author whom I\nhave just quoted to count the world, \"not an Inn, but an Hospital; and\na place not to live, but to dye in.\" [31]  I do not suppose that any\none ever succeeded in wholly resisting the hospitality of this world,\nand one suspects that Thomas Browne partook not a little of its good\ncheer; but the opinion is false notwithstanding, and if false, then\nconfusing and misleading.  This world is not a place to suffer in, nor\neven a place to be mended in, but the only opportunity of achievement\nand service that can be certainly {119} counted on.  The good is in the\nmaking here, if it is in the making anywhere.  To neglect life here is\nequivalent to forfeiting it altogether.\n\nReligious formalism may induce not only a default of present\nopportunity and responsibility, but also a substitution for good living\nof an emotional improvisation on the theme of absolute perfection, like\nthat in the _Book of the Courtier_:\n\n\nIf, then, the beauties which with these dim eyes of ours we daily see\nin corruptible bodies, . . . seem to us so fair and gracious that they\noften kindle most ardent fire in us, . . . what happy wonder, what\nblessed awe, shall we think is that which fills the souls that attain\nto the vision of divine beauty!  What sweet flame, what delightful\nburning, must that be thought which springs from the fountain of\nsupreme and true beauty!--which is the source of every other beauty,\nwhich never waxes nor wanes: ever fair, and of its own self most simple\nin every part alike; like only to itself, and partaking of none other;\nbut fair in such wise that all other fair things are fair because they\nderive their beauty from it.  This is that beauty identical with\nhighest good.[32]\n\n\nNow I do not want to be understood as condemning this mysticism out of\nhand.  I mean only that while it is eloquent and purifying, it is,\nnevertheless, not illuminating; and that if it be mistaken for\nillumination, it does in fact hide the light.  It has no meaning\nwhatsoever except the general idea of the superlative, and if it be not\nattached to some definite content drawn from {120} experience of acts\nand their consequences, it does but substitute a phrase for the proper\nobjects of action and an emotion for provident conduct.\n\nThere is a further moral danger in mysticism, which I need only mention\nhere, because I propose to discuss it more fully in the chapter on\nreligion.  Since mysticism opposes a formal perfection to the concrete\ngood of experience, it tends to obscure the distinction between good\nand evil.  That distinction lies within experience, and if experience\nas a whole be discredited, the distinction is discredited with it.  If\nthe common, familiar good is not to be taken as valid, then finality no\nlonger attaches to that common, familiar evil which the moral will has\nbeen trained to condemn and resist.  If the good lie \"beyond good and\nevil,\" then neither is the good good nor the evil evil.  The result is\nto leave the moral will without justification, supported only by habit\nand custom.\n\nThe virtue of piety lies in its completing, not in its replacing,\nsecular efficiency.  It gives to a life that is provident and fruitful\nas it goes, the stimulus of a momentous project, and reverence for a\ngood that shall embrace unlimited possibilities.\n\n\n{121}\n\nVII\n\nIn reviewing the several levels of life which morality defines, we may\nobserve two types of universal value.  The lower values in relation to\nthe higher are indispensable.  There is no health without satisfaction,\nno achievement without health, no rational intercourse without\nachievement, and no true religion except as the perfecting and\ncompleting of a rational society.  The higher values, on the other\nhand, are more universal than the lower in that they surpass these in\nvalidity, and are entitled to preference.  Thus the lower values are\nennobled by the higher, while the higher are given body and meaning by\nthe lower.  Satisfaction derives dignity from being controlled by the\nmotive of good-will, while the moral kingdom at large derives its\nwealth, its pertinence to life, and its incentive, from the great\nmanifold of particular interests which it conserves and fosters.\n\nIt is the formal rather than the material principle in life which\ndefines the direction of moral effort.  By prudence, purpose, justice,\nand good-will life is regenerated and urged, against the resistance of\ninertia, towards its maximum of attainment.  Hence these are the\nvirtues which make men heroes, and which are symbolized in manners and\nin worship.  Manners are a {122} symbolic representation of rational\nintercourse; thus courtesy is a ceremony of respect, chivalry of\nservice, and modesty of self-restraint and impersonality.  Worship is\nsimilarly a symbolic representation of good-will and hope.  Upon the\ncultivation of \"those outward and sensible motions which may express or\npromote an invisible devotion\" human life is dependent not only for its\ngraciousness, but for its discipline and growth.\n\n\n\n\n{123}\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nTHE MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS\n\nThe phrase \"philosophy of history\" is at present somewhat in disrepute.\nIt enjoys much the same unpopularity among historians as does the term\n\"metaphysics\" among scientists, and probably for the same reason.  It\nis assumed that such a discipline must either violate or exceed the\nfacts in the interests of some _a priori_ conception.  Doubtless some\nphilosophies of history have been guilty of this charge; but they do\nnot, I am sure, exhaust the possibilities in the case.  In the present\nchapter I shall present an outline of what might fairly be regarded as\na philosophy of history, but which nevertheless does no more than\nattempt a precise definition of principles which even the historian is\nforced to employ.\n\nI shall not attempt to define the task of history, except in the\nbroadest terms.  The form which its results should finally assume is a\nmatter of dispute among historians themselves.  But it is at least\npossible to indicate the field of history in terms that will command\ngeneral assent.  In the first place, history deals with change, with\nthe temporal sequence of events; and in the second place, it confines\nitself to such events as belong to what is called human conduct.\nEntirely apart from theories of method or technique, it seems clear\nthat any established fact falling within this description belongs\nproperly to that body of knowledge which we call history.\n\nI wish especially to call attention to the fact that history deals with\n_human conduct_.  It deals, in other words, with actions which serve\ninterests; with needs, desires, and purposes as these are fulfilled or\nthwarted in the course of time.  Its subject-matter, therefore, is\nmoral.  It describes the clash of interests, the failure or success of\nambition, the improvement or decay of nations; in short, all things\ngood and evil in so far as they have been achieved and recorded.  And\nthe broader the scope of the historian's study the more clearly do\nthese moral principles emerge.  The present-day emphasis on the\naccurate verification of data somewhat obscures, but does not negate\nthe fact, that every item of detail is in the end brought under some\njudgment of good or evil, of gain or loss in human welfare.  All\nhistory is virtually a history of civilization; and civilization is a\nmoral conception referring to the sum of human achievement in so far as\nthis is pronounced good.\n\nNow there is a branch of philosophy called {125} \"ethics,\" to which is\ncommitted the investigation of moral conceptions.  These conceptions\nare as much subject to exact analysis as conceptions of motion or\norganic behavior.  And such an analysis must underlie all judgments\nconcerning the condition of mankind in any time or place, if these\njudgments make any claim to truth.  The application of ethical analysis\nto the recorded life of man is a philosophy of history.[1]  Such a\ndiscipline is charged with the criticism of the past in terms of\ncritical principles which have been explicitly formulated.  With a\nknowledge of what it means to be good or evil one may conclude in all\nseriousness whether the fortunes of society in any time or place were\ngood or evil.  One may with meaning distinguish between those who have\nbeen the friends and the enemies of society; and one may refer to the\ngrowth or decay of nations with some notion of what these terms\nsignify.  But it will be the main problem of a philosophy of history to\ndeliver some verdict concerning the progress or decline of\ninstitutions, and of civilization at large.\n\nIt is necessary that we should at once rid our minds of false notions\nconcerning the meaning of _progress_.  This conception has been greatly\nconfused during recent times through being identified with evolution in\nthe biological sense.  It should be perfectly clear that such evolution\nmay or {126} may not be progressive; it means only a continuous\nmodification of life in accordance with the demands of the environment.\nEven where this modification takes the direction of increasing\ncomplexity it does not necessarily constitute betterment; and it is\nentirely consistent with the principle of adaptation that it should\ntake the reverse direction.  Biological evolution signifies only a\nsteady yielding to the pressure of the physical environment, whether\nfor better or for worse.  It is also important not to confuse the\nconception of progress with that of mere change or temporal duration.\nBecause society has grown older it has not necessarily on that account\ngrown wiser; nor because it has changed much has it necessarily on that\naccount changed for the better.  Whether the accumulations of the past\nare wealth or rubbish is not to be determined by their bulk.\n\nProgress cleared of these ambiguities means, then, _a change from good\nto better_; an increase, in the course of time, of the value of life,\nwhatever that may be.  Taken in the absolute sense it means, not a gain\nhere or a gain there, but _a gain on the whole_.  It is impossible to\nreach any conclusion whatsoever concerning progress except in the light\nof some conception of the total enterprise of life.  Every advance must\nbe estimated not merely in relation to the interest immediately {127}\nserved, but in relation to that whole complex of interests which is\ncalled humanity.\n\nIn discussing progress I shall therefore with right employ those moral\nconceptions which I have already defined.  I shall regard as good\nwhatever fulfils interests, and as morally good whatever fulfils all\ninterests affected to the maximum degree.  Especial importance now\nattaches to the principle which I have phrased the _quantitative basis\nof preference_.  Since progress involves the change from good to\nbetter, it implies an increment of value.  The later age is judged to\nbe _as good and better_.  I can see no way of verifying such a\nproposition unless it be possible to find in the greater good both the\nlesser good and also something added to it and likewise accounted good.\nIn other words, progress involves measurement of value, and this\ninvolves some _unit of value_ which is common to the terms compared.\nThe method must be in the last analysis that of superimposition.\n\nBagehot virtually employs this method in the chapter of his _Physics\nand Politics_, which he entitles \"Verifiable Progress Politically\nConsidered.\"  Let me quote, for example, his comparison of the\nEnglishman with the primitive Australian.\n\n\nIf we omit the higher but disputed topics of morals and religion, we\nshall find, I think, that the plainer {128} and agreed-on superiorities\nof the Englishmen are these: first, that they have a greater command\nover the powers of nature upon the whole.  Though they may fall short\nof individual Australians in certain feats of petty skill, though they\nmay not throw the boomerang as well, or light a fire with earthsticks\nas well, yet on the whole twenty Englishmen with their implements and\nskill can change the material world immeasurably more than twenty\nAustralians and their machines.  Secondly, that this power is not\nexternal only; it is also internal.  The English not only possess\nbetter machines for moving nature, but are themselves better machines.\nMr. Babbage taught us years ago that one great use of machinery was not\nto augment the force of man, but to register and regulate the power of\nman; and this in a thousand ways civilized man can do, and is ready to\ndo, better and more precisely than the barbarian.  Thirdly, civilized\nman has not only greater powers over nature, but knows better how to\nuse them, and by better I here mean better for the health and comfort\nof his present body and mind.  He can lay up for old age, which a\nsavage having no durable means of sustenance cannot; he is ready to lay\nup because he can distinctly foresee the future, which the vague-minded\nsavage cannot.[2]\n\n\nIt will be observed that in each case the superiority of the Englishmen\nlies in the fact that they _beat the Australians at their own game_.\nAustralians are as much interested as Englishmen in obtaining command\nover nature, in organizing their own powers, and in securing health and\ncomfort.  The Englishmen, however, can fulfil these interests not only\nup to but also beyond {129} the point which marks the limit of the\nAustralians' attainment.\n\nThe method of superimposition is virtually employed in all competitive\nstruggle.  The glory and fruits of victory are sought by both\nopponents, and the success of one is the failure of the other.  The\nsuperiority of the victor to the vanquished is beyond question only\nbecause they had the same interest at stake.\n\nThe application of this method to the determination of progress is not\nconfined to philosophers of history.  It is applied by every individual\nwho realizes that his advance from childhood to maturity has been\nattended with growth and development.  For the old boundaries of\nchildhood still remain as evidence of the greater magnitude of the life\nwhich has outgrown them.  Similarly every man may mark within himself\nthe various limits which once bounded him, but which he has since\nexceeded in consequence of steady and consecutive effort.  The progress\nof mankind at large differs only in complexity and range.  It can be\ntested and determined only because identical interests persist.  If men\nhad not in all times wanted the same things it would be impossible to\nmeasure their attainments.  Their successes and failures would be\nincommensurable.  But the old needs and the old hopes yet remain.  The\nproblem of life which was from {130} the beginning is a problem still.\nIf it can be shown that the old needs are met more easily, along with\nnew needs besides, that there is better promise that the hopes will be\nfulfilled, and that the general problem of life is nearer a solution,\nthen human progress will have been demonstrated.\n\n\nII\n\nI propose, in the first place, to discuss two general principles, the\noperation of which is conducive to progress.  One of these principles\nis _external_, that is, it relates to the environment of life rather\nthan to its internal economy; and to this I shall turn first.\n\nThe external environment of life is in some respects favorable, in\nother respects unfavorable.  Now, strangely enough, it is the\nunfavorable rather than the favorable aspect of the environment that\nconduces to progress.  Progress, or even the least good, would, of\ncourse, be impossible, unless the mechanical environment was morally\nplastic.  The fact that nature submits to the organization which we\ncall life is a fundamental and constant condition of all civilization.\nBut there is nothing in the mere compliance of nature to press life\nforward.  It is the _menace_ of nature which stimulates progress.  It\nis because nature always remains a source of difficulty and danger\n{131} that life is provoked to renew the war and achieve a more\nthorough conquest.  Nature will not permit life to keep what it has\nunless it gains more.\n\nThe external environment of life embraces not only mechanical nature,\nbut also such outlying units of life as have not yet been brought into\nharmonious relations.  Conflict between individuals, tribes, races, or\nnations operates in a manner analogous to mechanical nature.  It exerts\na constant pressure in the direction of greater strength and\nefficiency.  In order that man shall not be robbed by his enemies of\nwhat he already has, he must forever be attempting to make himself\nimpregnable and formidable.\n\nBut war and the struggle with nature not only put a premium on the\nbetter organization of life; they also make it a condition of\npermanence.  Superior individuals survive when inferior individuals\nperish in the struggle, or the superior type obtains an ascendency over\nthe inferior.  In human warfare the defeated party is rarely if ever\nutterly annihilated; it tends, however, to lose its prestige or even\nits identity through being assimilated to the victorious party.  In\neither case that form of life which in conflict proves itself the\nstronger, tends to prevail, through the exclusion of those forms which\nprove themselves weaker.\n\nAn unfavorable environment has, then, operated externally to develop\ncoherence and unity {132} in life.  But the cost has been prodigious,\nand must be subtracted from the gain.  For there is no virtue in\nconflict save the strength of the victor.  Man has made a virtue of\nthis necessity; but to obviate so dire a necessity becomes one of the\nfirst tasks which civilization undertakes.  The attempt to eliminate\nconflict, and reduce to a minimum the sacrifice of special interests,\nmarks the operation of the _internal_ or _moral_ principle of progress.\nDuring the historical period this principle assumes a constantly\ngreater prominence.\n\nA society may be said to be internally progressive when it can afford\nto withdraw some of its energies from the struggle for existence, and\ndevote them to the improvement of method and the saving of waste.  Its\nstability and security must be so far guaranteed as to make it safe to\nundertake a reconstruction, calculated to provide more fully for its\nconstituent interests and develop its latent possibilities.  There now\nobtains, within limits that tend steadily to expand, what Bagehot calls\n\"government by discussion,\" that is, the regulation of action by the\ninvention, selection, and trial of the best means.  This substitution\nof rational procedure for custom is an irreversible and germinal\nprocess.  Let me quote Bagehot's account of it:\n\n\nA government by discussion, if it can be borne, at once breaks down the\nyoke of fixed custom.  The {133} idea of the two is inconsistent.  As\nfar as it goes, the mere putting up of a subject to discussion is a\nclear admission that that subject is in no degree settled by\nestablished rule, and that men are free to choose in it. . . .  And if\na single subject or group of subjects be once admitted to discussion,\nere long the habit of discussion comes to be established, the sacred\ncharm of use and wont to be dissolved.  \"Democracy,\" it has been said\nin modern times, \"is like the grave; it takes, but it does not give.\"\nThe same is true of \"discussion.\"  Once effectually submit a subject to\nthat ordeal, and you can never withdraw it again; you can never again\nclothe it with mystery, or fence it by consecration; it remains forever\nopen to free choice, and exposed to profane deliberation.[3]\n\n\nThe strength of custom or established authority lies in prompt and\nundivided action against external enemies; but its weakness lies in its\nexcessive cost to the interests within.  And when there is leisure and\nsecurity for deliberation, the policy and organization of society must\nrespond at once to the claims of these interests.  Development is now\ndue to a moral rather than to a mechanical principle; that is, the\nsurviving type of life is due not to pressure and elimination from\nwithout, but to a provident concern that emanates from within.  There\nis a deliberate intention to promote survival, those interests alone\nbeing restricted or suppressed which do not comply with this intention.\nThere evolves not a selected group of strong individuals, but a strong\ncommunity, strong because both full of life, or rich {134} in\nincentive, and also harmonious.  And within such a community the\nstrength of individuals lies not in a sheer power to resist the strain\nof competition, but in the rational and moral capacity to utilize the\nresources of the entire community.  Through moral organization the\nstrong are made stronger at the same time that the weak are made strong.\n\nStrictly speaking, there is only one internal principle of progress,\nnamely, _rationality_.  By rationality, in this connection, I mean the\nknowledge of the good, and the correction of existing usages through\nwhich it is accidentally or wantonly frustrated.  If fulfilment be the\nmotive of life, and maximum fulfilment be the good, then any existing\nusage stands condemned when it is proved to involve unnecessary\nsacrifice.  And such usages will be condemned, and in the long run\nrejected, wherever there is an opportunity for self-assertion and\ndiscussion among the various interests concerned.  But such correction\nmay be initiated either by a positive or a negative motive.  It may\nresult either from the action of those who seek constructively to\npromote the general welfare of society, or from the action of those who\nprotest against society in behalf of neglected interests.  The first is\n_constructive reform_, the second, _revolution_.\n\n_Constructive reform_ is the work of disinterested {135} reflection.\nIt may originate in speculation, as political or social theory; or it\nmay originate in the solution of a practical problem.  Plato has\ndescribed the type of mind which in either case it requires: a mind\nwhich is free from individual or party bias, and which represents and\nco-ordinates all the interests of the community.  Now the failure of\npolitical and social theories as measures of reform is proverbial; none\nfailed more completely and conspicuously than Plato's own.  And it is\nnot difficult to see why this should be the case; for, as a rule, they\nare adapted neither to the habits and intelligence of the time, nor to\nthe actual instruments of practical efficiency.  But it may be observed\nthat the distance between the philosopher and the man of affairs is\nconsiderably shorter than it used to be.  The method of discussion\nbeing once generally adopted, action, both individual and social, is\npervaded with theory.  Even the man of affairs cannot easily avoid\nbeing a philosopher.\n\nAnd even in distinguishing as sharply as I have between theory and\npractice, I have simply followed a customary habit of thought that is\non the whole misleading.  For, in truth, it is as impossible for the\nman of affairs to avoid disinterested reflection, as it is for the\ncommercial traveller to be unsociable.  The activity of the one has to\ndo with the organization of a wide range of {136} interests, as the\nactivity of the other has to do with the capitalization of\ngood-fellowship.\n\nThose of you who are familiar with the First Book of Plato's _Republic_\nwill remember the account given there of the forced benevolence of the\ntyrant.  It is, I believe, one of the great classics in ethical theory;\nand although its full meaning will not appear until we deal directly\nwith the problem of government, I must allude to it here for the sake\nof the principle involved.  The sophist of the dialogue, one\nThrasymachus, attempts to overthrow Socrates's conclusion that virtue\nis essentially beneficent, by pointing to the case of the tyrant, who\nis eminent and powerful, as every one would wish to be, but who is at\nthe same time wholly unscrupulous.  He is the symbol of success, in\nthat he can on all occasions do what it pleases him to do, and with no\nregard for the feelings of others.  Now Socrates in his reply is not\nsatisfied to show that even the tyrant must have some scruples; he goes\nto the length of asserting that the tyrant must of all persons in the\ncommunity have the _most_ scruples.  And the reason which Socrates\nadvances is unanswerable.  The tyrant is the one person in the\ncommunity who has to _please everybody_.  He owes his position and\npower, not to any directly productive activity, such as agriculture,\nindustry, or military service, but wholly to his skill in {137}\norganizing and promoting interests that are not primarily his own.  To\nbe sure, he has his hire; but to earn it he must pay every man his\nprice.\n\nNow let us apply this to the general case of the man of affairs.  It\nfollows that just in so far as action is broad in scope, it must be\nconsiderate and just.  To conduct enterprises on a large scale involves\ncontact with many interests, and these interests, once affected, must\neither be understood and provided for or else antagonized.  The greater\nthe enterprise, the more truly does it exist by sufferance; it depends\non the support of those who profit by it, and if that support be\nwithdrawn, it collapses into absolute impotence.  The ancient Cynics\nwere right in thinking that the only man who can afford to be\nindifferent to the interests of his fellows is the man who renounces\nambition and retires to his tub.\n\nOnce the era of civilization is inaugurated, power depends on moral\ncapacity, that is, the capacity to protect and promote a considerable\nnumber of interests, and thus win their backing.  This is proved in\nevery field of human activity, military, political, religious,\nintellectual, social, or commercial.  Commerce and industry afford at\npresent the most striking examples.  The man who succeeds is the man\nwho can satisfy the greatest number of appetites.  And the more his\nenterprise grows the more it becomes a public concern; {138} and the\nmore, therefore, must he be studious of public welfare and responsive\nto public opinion.  Thus manufacturing, transportation, or banking,\nwhen conducted on a large scale, touch life at so many points, that he\nwho seeks to gain power or wealth by means of them will gradually and\nwithout any abrupt change of motive approximate the method of\ndisinterested service.  So every station in life, from that of the\nruler to that of the shopkeeper, has its own characteristic form of the\none problem of _meeting, adjusting and fulfilling interests_.  The\ndesire to be successful or to attain eminence in one's station exerts a\nconstant pressure in the direction of the invention, trial, and\nselection of methods that will solve this problem.  And such methods\nonce devised are at once supported by the interests they serve, and\nbecome necessary to the life of the community.\n\nNow the wise leader anticipates the needs and wishes of his followers,\nand so enjoys their continued support without ever seeming to depend on\nit.  But there are very few such wise leaders.  The reason for their\nscarcity lies in the natural inertia of profitable activities.  There\nis a universal propensity to let well enough alone.  So methods are\nallowed to outlive their usefulness, or remain unmodified when more\nprovident and fruitful methods could be devised.  When leadership {139}\nthus fails to be statesmanlike and far-sighted, there occurs that\nuprising of the disaffected interests which is called _revolution_.\n\n_Revolution_, then, is the self-assertion of the various constituent\ninterests which do not find room or fair measure within the existing\norganization.  The evidence of the insufficiency of present methods\nbeing neglected by those in charge, that evidence _makes itself known_.\nIn the long run this is the surest principle of progress, because it is\nbrought into operation by those who have a nearer or more indispensable\ninterest at stake.  It is unquestionably to the interest of the\nindividual who heads an enterprise to conduct it rationally, that is,\nto make it always as productive as possible for all the interests which\nit serves.  But if he fails he may not at once incur the penalty, or be\nconscious of it if he does; he may only forfeit an increase of power,\nor render his position precarious.  On the other hand, to the\nconstituent interest which is sacrificed, this same failure may mean\nloss of bread or even loss of life.  Hence the latter is more sure to\nmove in the matter.  Justice is more urgently needed by the slave who\nrebels, than by the master who may be brought through enlightenment to\nliberate him.  Thus neglected interests have been the conscience of\nevery great human reform.  Let me cite the two greatest cases of this\nin the history of {140} European civilization, Christianity and the\nFrench Revolution.\n\nChristianity as a social revolution was a protest against the existing\norder on the part of interests which it did not recognize.  I do not\nmean that these interests were not tolerated; they were, of course,\nprotected, and even given a legal status.  But in the reckoning of good\nand evil they were not _counted_.  Women and slaves, the poor, the\nill-born, and the ignorant, were instruments which the happy man might\nuse, or incidents of life which might test his charity and magnanimity.\nThese classes rose to overthrow no single institution, but a whole\nconception of life, or standard of well-being which was defined to\nexclude them.  In paganism, which did not pass with the advent of\nChristianity, but still lingers as the creed of the very precious\nsouls, humanity is conceived only qualitatively, and not\nquantitatively.  The good of the race is conceived to consist in the\nperfection of a few, chosen for their superior endowment and fortune.\nThe eminent refinement and nobility of these demigods is substituted\nfor the saving of lives, for the general distribution of welfare and\nopportunity.  The many are to find compensation for their hardship in\nthe happiness of the few.  But the Christian principle of atonement was\nthe precise opposite of this: one suffered that all might be blessed.\nChristianity {141} looked towards a good that should number every one\nin the multitude and endure throughout all time.  Now it has since\nappeared that this was no more than the truth; and that it might have\nbeen conceived and executed by the wise men, had they only been more\nwise.  But they were wise only within the limits of their own conceit.\nHence it took the form of an assault on the established enlightenment.\nThe many, with their yearning for a universal happiness, with their\ndeep concern for the greater good, and their jealous compassion for all\nsouls, destroyed the narrow eminence of the few.  Thus Christianity was\na revolution, and not a constructive reform.\n\nThe French Revolution was a protest not only against apathy, but\nagainst insolence as well.  It was a demand of the many not merely to\nbe happy, but to have what they called their \"rights\" respected; a\nprotest against authority, not only because it was cruel, but because\nit was arbitrary, tyrannical.  Hence it was aimed against priestcraft\nas well as against monarchy.  It was based on the conviction that no\none is so justly entitled to pass judgment on a man's affairs as a man\nhimself.  But it was a cry from the depths, the bitter resentment of a\nlong-standing abuse.  Therefore it took the form of an uprising against\nthe established order; and while it opened men's eyes, it was not\nconducted in the spirit of enlightenment.  {142} In spite of his\ninferences, Nietsche has not described the matter falsely:\n\n\nThe slave . . . loves as he hates, without _nuance_, to the very\ndepths, to the point of pain, . . . his many _hidden_ sufferings make\nhim revolt against the noble taste which seems to _deny_ suffering.\nThe scepticism with regard to suffering, fundamentally only an attitude\nof an aristocratic morality, was not the least of the causes, also, of\nthe last great slave insurrection which began with the French\nRevolution.[4]\n\n\nInsurrection, in other words, is the flat, downright, and unqualified\naffirmation of interests to which those in charge of affairs have\ndenied existence.  It is a flash in the eyes of those who will not see;\na blast in the ears of those who will not hear.  Insurrection asserts\n_only_ the interests that have been neglected; hence, though it brings\n_new_ light, that light for lack of which the world went in darkness,\nit is careless and blind in its own way, and does not concern itself\nwith restoring the balance.  But, as Nietsche prefers not to\ncomprehend, insurrection demonstrates beyond question the bankruptcy of\naristocratic morality; discredits it as effectually, and in the same\nway, as new evidence discredits old theories.\n\nThese, then, are the two complementary methods through which\nrationality gets itself progressively established: through the\nimagination and foresight of constructive minds, and through the\nprotest or uprising of neglected interests.\n\n{143}\n\nI must mention briefly, before leaving this general topic, an accessory\ncondition on which this internal principle of progress depends for its\neffectual working.  It is necessary that the life of society should be\nunbroken; that its achievements should be preserved and accumulated\nfrom generation to generation.  This is provided for in the permanence\nof records, monuments, and institutions; but these are of less\nconsequence than the _continuity of tradition_.  Generations of men do\nnot come into being and pass away like regiments in marching order.\nThere is no present generation; unless one arbitrarily selects those of\na certain age to represent the spirit of the day.  He who is born now,\nenters into the midst of a social life in which the present is blended\nwith the past through the interpenetration of individual lives of every\nstage of maturity.  The threads are innumerably many, and their length\nis but threescore years and ten; but there is no place at which more\nthan a few end, so that they are woven into one continuous and seamless\nfabric.  It does not exceed the facts, then, to say that the life of\nsociety is one life, which may gather headway, increase in wealth, and\nprofit by experience.  Through this continuity society may learn, as\nthe individual organism does, by the method of trial and error.  Costly\nblunders need not be repeated, and the waste involved {144} in untried\nexperiments may steadily be reduced.  Furthermore, the advance is by\ngeometrical, and not merely by arithmetical progression.  Every\ndiscovery and achievement is multiplied in fruitfulness through being\nadded to the capital stock and reinvested in fresh enterprises.\n\n\nIII\n\nHuman progress, thus determined by the movement of life towards its\nmore rational, that is, more provident, organization, is attended in\nall its stages with a very significant difference of emphasis.  I refer\nto the old conflict between _conservatism_ and _radicalism_.  If this\nwere merely a difference of temperamental bias, it would not need to\ndetain us.  But it is really an opposition between exaggerated truths,\nin which each is boldly and impressively defined.\n\nThe truth of conservatism lies, first, in its love of the existing\norder.  Every established form of social life has had a certain\nwholeness and strength and perfection of its own.  This is as true of\nsavagery as it is of any type of civilization.  Interests are in\nequilibrium, and are guaranteed security within certain limits that are\ngenerally understood.  In other words, _at least a measure of\nfulfilment may be counted on_.  The conservative is right in valuing\nthis as a prodigious achievement.  He knows that disorder is ruin, not\nto {145} any class, but to all; the paralysis, if not the absolute\ndestruction, of all fruitful activities.\n\nAnd secondly, conservatism proclaims the truth that since order\nconditions all activity, it is impossible to promote human welfare\nexcept by using order.  The enemy of order threatens to destroy the\ninstruments of power, and so to make himself weak and helpless with the\nrest.  The conservative understands the real delicacy of these\ninstruments, and the difficulty of remodelling them while still forced\nto use them.  For nothing puts so great a strain on society as\nprogress.  It tends to destroy its rigidity, to dull its edge, and to\nspoil the fine adjustment without which so complex an organization\ncannot function.  There could be no human life whatsoever, and still\nless a progressive life, were not the great mass of men content to\nremain steadily in their places, and so form parts of a stable\nstructure.  An organization cannot actually _work_ until it is in\nequilibrium.\n\nNow while the conservative fears to \"swap horses while crossing the\nstream,\" the radical reminds him that if he does not do so he will\nnever gain the farther shore.  The conservative is satisfied to sit\nfirmly in the saddle, but the radical thinks only of the long distance\nyet to go.  There is a common misconception as to who is the real\nradical, the real menace to this existing order.  {146} He is not the\nsceptic, but _the man with a purpose_; the man who believes in the\npossibility of better things, and so has a motive impelling him to\nabolish and reconstruct the present things.  The sceptic, who holds all\norder to be conventional and arbitrary, is as well satisfied with one\nsystem as another.  His natural course is a cynical acquiescence in the\ninveterate folly of mankind.  Or, finding order convenient, and fearing\nthat its true groundlessness will be exposed if it be made a matter for\ndiscussion, he advocates blind obedience to the authority of the day.\nHence the disillusioned, especially if they occupy positions of power\nin church or state or trade, may be counted on as the leaders of\nconservative policy.  The typical radical, on the other hand, is\nSocrates, who censured the men of his time because they were satisfied\nwith something short of the best; and who was condemned because he\noffered men _a good reason_ for reorganizing life.\n\nThe radical, like the conservative, is right.  He is right, in the\nfirst place, because he points out that the stability of the\nestablished order is not proof of its finality.  It may be, indeed\nalways will be, largely due to habit.  Society forfeits a greater good\nthrough mere inertia, through the tendency of any organization of\ninterests which runs smoothly and brings a steady return, to perpetuate\nitself.  The radical is the critic of {147} custom, condemning it for\ntimidly clinging to the present good, and abandoning the original\nintent of life to attain to the maximum.\n\nThe radical is right, secondly, because he protests that so long as\nthere is the least waste of life, the least wanton suppression or\ndestruction of interests, the work of civilization is not done.  He\nrepresents those interests which under any system are most heavily\ntaxed, and presses for their relief.\n\nConservatism and radicalism, then, are the two half-truths into which\nthe principle of progress is divided by the propensity of every human\nactivity to override the mark, and by the confusion of mind that cannot\nfail to attend so venturesome and bewildering an undertaking as\ncivilization.\n\n\nIV\n\nI have said that it is possible to measure progress because of the\npersistence throughout the whole course of human history of certain\nidentical interests and purposes.  When such an interest or purpose is\nsufficiently broad in its scope, and gets itself permanently embodied,\nit is called an _institution_.  Thus _government_ embodies the need of\nthe general regulation of interests within the social community.\n_Education_ is due to the individual's prolonged period of helplessness\nand dependence, and the need of assimilating him to the order of his\ntime.  _Science_ is man's {148} knowledge of the ways of nature in\ndetail, when this is recorded, organized, and preserved as a permanent\nutility answering to the permanent need of adaptation.  And _religion_\nexpresses in outer form the human need of reckoning with the final day\nof judgment, of establishing right relations with the powers that\nunderly and overrule the proximate sphere of life.  There is no limited\nnumber of institutions, but these are notable examples.  Government,\neducation, science, and religion are fixed moral necessities.  They\narise out of those conditions of life which are general and constant.\nHence each has a history coextensive with the history of society\nitself.  And since the function of each remains identical throughout,\nthe adequacy with which at any given time it fulfils that function may\nbe taken as a measure of civilization.  Government being the most\nprominent of institutions, and its improvement being the deepest\nconcern of society, I shall select it for special consideration.[5]\n\nI have already referred to the Platonic account of government, given in\nthe _Republic_.  It furnishes the starting-point of all political\nphilosophy.  In the First and Second Books, Plato examines two contrary\nsceptical criticisms of government, with a most illuminating result.\nIn the First Book the sceptic urges the view that government represents\nthe interest of the strong; {149} primarily of the ruler himself,\nenabling him to aggrandize himself at the expense of the weak.  But in\nthe Second Book the sceptic is made to suggest that government\nrepresents rather the interest of the weak, since it affords him a\nprotection which he is not strong enough to afford himself.  Now the\nmoral of this paradox lies in the fact that government represents the\ninterest neither of the strong nor of the weak, but of the community as\na whole.  This moral is virtually pointed in the reply which Plato\nmakes to the first of these two sceptical positions.  The ruler gains\nhis power and prestige not from the exploitation of the interests of\nhis subjects, but from his protection of them.  His activity touches\nall the interests of the community, and is tolerated only in so far as\nit conciliates them.  In other words, his strength is drawn wholly from\nthe constituency which he serves.  The many individual interests, on\nthe other hand, owe their security to that concentration and\norganization which centres in the ruler.  They only participate in a\npower which the ruler may exercise and enjoy as a unit.  But unless\nthat power be engaged in their service it ceases to exist.  It is not a\npersonal power, but a permanent function, through which the many\ninterests of society unite, and so share severally the security, glory,\nand resourcefulness of the whole body.\n\n{150}\n\nGovernment in this sense is both a necessity and an opportunity.\nSuppose men to be in contact through propinquity or common descent.\nDivided among themselves they are prey to natural forces, wild beasts,\nor human enemies.  But acting as a unit they are sufficiently strong to\nprotect themselves.  He who wields them as a unit to this end is for\nthe time-being the ruler; and to submit to his leadership is simply to\nsubmit to the necessity of protection.  Or, divided among themselves,\nthey remain in a condition of poverty and fear; while united they can\nwage an aggressive campaign against nature, and against those who\nthreaten them or possess what they lack.  Again, he who settles their\ninternal differences, accomplishes their organization, and makes it\neffective, is their ruler; and he owes his authority to the opportunity\nof conquest which his leadership affords.\n\nThe fact that government is thus of natural origin, the inevitable\nsolution of an inevitable problem, has been obscured through confusing\nits general necessity with the accidental circumstances connected  with\nthe selection of rulers.  The first ruler may have been appointed by\nGod; or, as is more likely, he may have owed his choice to his own\nbrutal self-assertion.  But this has no more to do with the origin of\nthe function of government, than the present methods of ambitious {151}\npoliticians have to do with the constitutional office of a republican\npresidency.  Government meets a moral need; and no man has ever ruled\nover men who has not met that need, however cruel and greedy he may\nhave been in his private motives.\n\nFrom the very beginning, then, government exists by virtue of the good\nthat it does.  But there have been enormous differences in the price\nthat men have paid for that good; and this constitutes its variable and\nprogressive factor.  Tyranny is, in the long run, the most unstable\nform of government, because it grossly overestimates the amount that\nmen will pay for the benefit of order.  In the _Antigone_ of Sophocles,\nCreon thus justifies his rule:\n\n\nThan lawlessness there is no greater ill.  It ruins states, overturns\nhomes, and joining with the spear-thrust breaks the ranks in rout.  But\nin the steady lines what saves most lives is discipline.  Therefore we\nmust defend the public order.\n\n\nBut when his son Haemon protests against his tyranny, Creon states his\nunderstanding of the bargain:\n\n\nCREON\n  Govern this land for others than myself?\n\nHAEMON\n  No city is the property of one alone.\n\nCREON\n  Is not the city reckoned his who rules?\n\nHAEMON\n  Excellent ruling--you alone, the land deserted![6]\n\n\n{152} In other words, Creon does not understand that if he exacts\neverything he will possess nothing.  There will come a point when the\ncost to the community exceeds the gain; and when that point is reached\ngovernment must either make more liberal terms or forfeit its power.\n\nThe principle of rationality in government is parsimony.  When its\nbenefit involves a wasteful sacrifice of interests and may be purchased\nmore thriftily, the pressure of interest inevitably in the long run\nbrings about the change.  The interests upon which the burden weighs\nmost heavily constitute the unstable factor, and since, in order that\nequilibrium may be restored, these must be relieved, there is\nnecessarily a gradual liberalization of governmental institutions.  In\nthe light of these general considerations I wish briefly to examine\nthree historical types of government, and then to present a summary of\npresent tendencies.\n\nThere is an interesting estimate of the benefits and cost of the\n_ancient military monarchy_ in the history of Israel, as recorded by\nthe writer of the Book of Samuel.  The elders have demanded that Samuel\nmake them a king, to judge them, \"like all the nations.\"  But he first\nwarns them of the price that they will have to pay:\n\n\nAnd he said, This will be the manner of the king that shall reign over\nyou: he will take your sons, and {153} appoint them unto him, for his\nchariots, and to be his horsemen; and they shall run before his\nchariots; and he will appoint them unto him for captains of thousands,\nand captains of fifties; and he will set some to plow his ground, and\nto reap his harvest, and to make his instruments of war, and the\ninstruments of his chariots. . . .  And he will take your fields, and\nyour vineyards, and your oliveyards, even the best of them, and give\nthem to his servants. . . .  And he will take your men servants, and\nyour maid-servants, and your goodliest young men, and your asses, and\nput them to his work.  He will take the tenth of your flocks: and ye\nshall be his servants.  And ye shall cry out in that day because of\nyour king that ye shall have chosen you.\n\n\nBut the men of Israel were willing to pay even this price, saying:\n\n\nNay; but we will have a king over us; that we also may be like all the\nnations; and that our king may judge us, and go out before us, and\nfight our battles.[7]\n\nThe benefits of monarchy, in which Israel sought to emulate her\nneighbors, were _judgment_ and _military prowess_.  Even where the\nevils of tyranny were most aggravated these benefits actually accrued\nand constituted a rational ground of authority.  The king was, at least\nin a measure, worthy of his hire.  But the cost was extravagant; the\nking exacted a disproportionate share of the plunder, and reduced his\nsubjects to a condition of personal bondage.  In the great monarchies,\nsuch as Assyria, Egypt, Persia, and the Roman {154} Empire in its later\nperiod, the benefits of his role were greatly attenuated before they\nreached to the depths and extremities of his kingdom, judgment being\nreduced to the caprice of an irresponsible officer, and military\nprowess to a faint reflection of national glory.  Now the weakness of\nsuch a polity lay in its doubtful value to the governed, these failing\nto participate fairly in its achievements, and so lacking incentive to\nsupport it.  There was no clear and convincing identification of\nindividual interest and national purpose.\n\nThe strength of Greek and Roman oligarchies, on the other hand, lay in\nprecisely this _morale_, or solidarity of interest.  Their small size\nand racial homogeneity brought the ruler into direct relations with a\nconstituency which was clearly conscious of its purpose and held him\nclosely to it.  So even where the kingship lingered on as a form, this\npolity was virtually a compact self-governing community.  The benefits\nof government, to which every other interest was harshly subordinated,\nwere still judgment and military prowess.  But these benefits were\neffectually guaranteed; and the sacrifices which they required became a\ncode of honor, both to be praised and gloried in as parts of happiness.\nThose who think that the Spartans felt their discipline to be\nessentially a hardship should read the song of Tyrtaeus, {155} which\nthey recited in their tents on the eve of battle:\n\n\nWith spirit let us fight for this land, and for our children die, being\nno longer chary of our lives.  Fight, then, young men, standing fast\none by another, nor be beginners of cowardly flight or fear.  But rouse\na great and valiant spirit in your breasts, and love not life when ye\ncontend with men.  And the elders, whose limbs are no longer active,\nthe old desert not or forsake.  For surely this were shameful, that\nfallen amid the foremost champions, in front of the youths, an older\nman should lie low, having his head now white and his beard hoary,\nbreathing out a valiant spirit in the dust. . . .  Yet all this befits\nthe young while he enjoys the brilliant bloom of youth.  To mortal men\nand women he is lovely to look upon, whilst he lives; and noble when he\nhas fallen in the foremost ranks.[8]\n\n\nBut the cost is none the less heavy because it is not felt.  In the\nfirst place, there was the cost untold to those whom the oligarchy held\nin subjection, a hundred thousand Messenians and twice as many Helots.\nTheir unequal participation in the benefits of government, necessary\nthough it may have been, lent instability to the whole polity.  It was\nthe menace of their resentment that forced upon their rulers a policy\nof perpetual vigilance and military discipline.  And in the second\nplace, there was the cost to the Spartan himself of attaining to a\nphysical efficiency equal to that of ten Helots.\n\n{156}\n\nIn the rival polity of Athens, the first of these abuses is only in a\nmeasure corrected.  The liberal extension of the privileges of\ncitizenship is the achievement of a later age.  But the democracy of\nAthens did demonstrate the internal wastefulness of a polity dominated\nby purely military aims.  The classic representation of this protest\nagainst sacrificing individual taste and capacity, together with all\ngrowth and abundance in the arts of peace, to the harsh rigors and\npassive obedience of a soldier's life, is to be found in Thucydides.\nIn the funeral oration attributed to Pericles there is this account of\nthe superiority of Athenian institutions:\n\n\nIt is true that we are called a democracy, for the administration is in\nthe hands of the many and not of the few.  But while the law secures\nequal justice to all alike in their private disputes, the claim of\nexcellence is also recognized; and when a citizen is in any way\ndistinguished, he is preferred to the public service. . . .  And we\nhave not forgotten to provide for our weary spirits many relaxations\nfrom toil; we have regular games and sacrifices throughout the year; at\nhome the style of our living is refined; and the delight which we daily\nfeel in all these things helps to banish melancholy. . . .  And in the\nmatter of education, whereas they [the Spartans] from early youth are\nalways undergoing laborious exercises which are to make them brave, we\nlive at ease, and yet are equally ready to face the perils which they\nface. . . .  If then we prefer to meet danger with a light heart but\nwithout laborious training, and with a courage which is gained by habit\nand not enforced by law, are we not greatly the gainers?  Since we do\nnot anticipate the {157} pain, although, when the hour comes, we can be\nas brave as those who never allow themselves to rest; and thus too our\ncity is equally admirable in peace and in war.  For we are lovers of\nthe beautiful, yet simple in our tastes, and we cultivate the mind\nwithout loss of manliness.[9]\n\n\nThe political disorders of later Athenian history illustrate the\ndifficulty of reconciling individualism with order and stability.  But\nat the same time they prove that the task is a necessary one, and that\nuntil it has been successfully performed, government can enjoy at best\nonly a false security.  For no interests can safely be neglected, least\nof all those which arise from the natural activities of men and lie in\nthe direction of the normal growth of human capacities.\n\nNow these ancient polities illustrate the inevitable pressure in the\ndirection of liberal government.  The original and always the\nfundamental values of government are _order_ and _power_.  But these\nmust be obtained with the minimum of personal exploitation on the part\nof the ruler; the function of government must be clearly understood and\nvigilantly guarded by a body of citizens who identify their interests\nwith it.  And secondly, order and power must be made compatible with\nindividual initiative, with playfulness and leisure, and with the free\ndevelopment of all worthy interests.  This pressure has been steadily\noperative in the evolution of modern political institutions.\n\n{158}\n\nBut there has also been another force at work of equally far-reaching\nimportance.  This force is the modern idea of democracy, in which\n_justice is modified by good-will_.  With the ancients justice meant\n\"that every man should practise one thing only, that being the thing to\nwhich his nature was most perfectly adapted.\" [10]  Equality upon the\nhighest plane of human capacity was limited even in theory to a\nprivileged class.  But since the advent of Christianity it has never\nbeen possible for European society to acquiesce with good conscience in\na limited distribution of the benefits of civilization.  For the new\nenlightenment teaches that when men's potentialities are considered,\nrather than their present condition, _there are no classes_.  As a\nconsequence men demand representation not for what they are, but for\nwhat they may become if given their just opportunity.  The body of\ncitizens whose good is the final end of government virtually includes,\nthen, all men without exception.  It is no longer possible simply to\ndismiss large groups of human beings from consideration on grounds of\nwhat is held to be their unfitness.  For they now demand that they be\nmade fit.  Burke expresses this enlightenment when he says, in speaking\nof the lower strata of society:\n\n\nAs the blindness of mankind has caused their slavery, in return their\nstate of slavery is made a pretence of keeping them in a state of\nblindness; for {159} the politician will tell you gravely, that their\nlife of servitude disqualifies the greater part of the race of man for\na search of truth, and supplies them with no other than mean and\ninsufficient ideas.  This is but too true; and this is one of the\nreasons for which I blame such institutions.[11]\n\n\nAnd so does every man now demand of the community as a whole that he\nshall be permitted to share equally in its benefits, and also, in order\nthat his claims may be represented, that he shall have a voice in its\ncouncils.  Do not misunderstand me.  I do not mean that all men,\ntherefore, must here and now be held to be equal; but only that they\nmust be held to be capable of being as good as the best until they have\ndemonstrated the contrary by forfeiting their opportunity.  Nor do I\nmean that all men must therefore be given the ballot.  We are\ndiscussing a question not of instrument, but of principle.  I do mean\nthat there is an idea that the best of life is for all; and that if\nthere are many that are incapable of entering into it, then they must\nbe helped to be capable.  And I mean, furthermore, that _this idea\nworks irresistibly_.  It commands the support of the whole army of\ninterests.  It will never be abandoned because it makes for the\nincrease of life on the whole; and hence no social order will from\nhenceforth be stable that is not based upon it.\n\nThis idea that all men alike shall be the beneficiaries of government,\nwhen taken together {160} with the ancient ideas that government shall\nbe directly responsible to its beneficiaries, and shall make as liberal\nan allowance as possible for their individual claims and opinions,\nconstitutes the general principle upon which the progressive modern\nstate is founded.  Let me briefly recapitulate certain characteristics\nof the modern state[12] which indicate its recognition of this\nprinciple, and hence its advance on the whole over earlier types.\n\n1.  In the first place, the modern state is essentially a territorial\nrather than a racial or proprietary unit.  In other words, it is\nclearly defined as a necessity and utility arising out of the\ncircumstance of propinquity.  If men are to cast in their lot together\nthey must submit to organization, and obey laws promulgated in the\ninterest of the community as a whole.  To-day men understand that if\nthey had no government it would be necessary to invent one; that the\nexisting government, whatever divinity doth hedge it, is thus virtually\nthe instrument of their needs.\n\n2.  Secondly, this moral function of government is emphasized through\nbeing largely freed from personal or dynastic connections and expressed\nas a constitutional office.\n\n3.  Thirdly, the requirements of justice and good-will are reconciled\nwith order through the principle of representation.  Without this {161}\nprinciple it would be impossible for societies large enough to afford\nmen protection, to admit all men to a share in their positive benefits\nand to a voice in their councils.  Representative government is a\nmethod of political procedure through which authority is made\nanswerable in the long run to all interests within its jurisdiction.\nThe more recent tendencies in democratic communities to modify the\nrepresentative system indicate the direction in which the pressure of\ninterests is still urging society forward.  It is no longer a question\nmerely of the extension of the suffrage, but of directness and\npublicity.  The procedure of government being recognized as of vital\nimportance to all citizens, it must be straightforward and\nbusinesslike, with its books constantly open to inspection.  The\npresent distrust in elected representatives is not a sign of reaction,\nbut of the evolution of the democratic intelligence.  Where the\nmachinery of representation becomes wasteful and clumsy, it ceases to\nserve the community.  But this may mean either direct legislation, that\nis, a direct participation in public affairs by the people at large, or\nthe intrusting of these affairs to a few conspicuously responsible\nagents selected for their businesslike competence and owing their\ntenure of office to the consent of their constituency.  These methods\nare entirely consistent with one another; and they owe their {162}\nadoption entirely to their better execution of the intent of democracy.\nBoth presuppose that political authority is empowered by all the\ninterests of the community to serve them, and that these interests\nshall in the end decide whether or not that service is adequately\nperformed.\n\n4.  Fourthly, the modern state lays a constantly greater stress on\nquestions of internal policy, thus emphasizing its basal function of\nconserving and fostering the interests directly committed to its\ncharge.  It is less occupied with war, and more occupied with\neducation, sanitation, the conservation of national resources, and the\nregulation of commerce and industry.\n\n5.  Fifthly, the sequel to this is the growing recognition of the folly\nand wastefulness of war.  War is becoming a last resort, a hard\nnecessity, rather than an opportunity of national glory.  The growth of\nthe idea of international peace, and the improvement and extension of\nthe method of arbitration, are evidence of a yielding to the weight of\nthe collective interests of humanity.  They prove the priority of the\nprinciple of construction over that of destruction, and the essentially\nthrifty and provident function of the state.\n\nThe present form of progressive political institutions will serve as an\nindex of the times and a pledge of the future.  It reflects better than\nany other element of civilization that growth of {163} liberality and\nsolidifying of interests which is the deep current of progress.  Human\nsociety is becoming one enterprise, provident of all existing interests\nand covetous of the best.  Now I know that this is to many but a dreary\nspectacle.  There are those who feel diminished by it, overwhelmed by\nnumbers, and degraded to the low level of average capacity and average\nattainment.  Therefore I wish in conclusion to deal further with this\nspirit of the age, to guard it against misunderstanding, and make its\nfine quality more apparent.\n\n\nV\n\nIt is charged that modern democracy is contrary to enlightenment\nthrough subordinating the strong man to the multitude of weak men, or\nthe wise man to the multitude of ignorant men.  But the modern idea of\njustice is based fundamentally neither on the mere sentiment of pity\nnor on fear of the mob, but on love of truth, and respect for all\norgans that mediate it.  Society cannot afford forcibly to repress the\njudgment of any individual or class, lest her deeds be deeds of\ndarkness.  The task of good living is a task of well-nigh overwhelming\ndifficulty, because it requires that no interest shall be ignored, and\nyet that all interests shall be in unison.  Interests left out of the\naccount will inevitably assert themselves, and through their steady\npressure or {164} violent impact destroy the organization which has\nexcluded them.  Hence the need of an order that shall provide for its\nown gradual correction; stable enough for security, and pliant enough\nto yield without shock to the claims of neglected or abused interests.\n\nThis need underlies the modern sentiment of tolerance, and the love of\nall the liberties that give a hearing to any sincere demand: freedom of\nspeech and press, the wide distribution of the franchise, and of\nopportunity for power.  Contrary to a theory that philosophers have\ndone much to support, democracy is not a method of confounding\nintelligence with the clamor of many voices, but a method of correcting\nthe single intelligence by the report of whatever other intelligence\nmay be most advantageously related to the matter at issue.  Human\nintelligence must operate from a centre, and must always overcome an\ninitial bias due to familiarity and proximity.  The consensus of\nopinion, or public opinion, is not essentially a composite opinion, but\na corrected opinion in which such accidents of locality cancel one\nanother.  The following justification of democracy, formulated by\nMatthew Arnold, lays bare its insistent and wholly incontrovertible\nmotive:\n\n\nIf experience has established any one thing in this world, it has\nestablished this: that it is well for any {165} great class or\ndescription of men in society to be able to say for itself what it\nwants, and not to have other classes, the so-called educated and\nintelligent classes, acting for it as its proctors, and supposed to\nunderstand its wants and to provide for them.  They do not really\nunderstand its wants, they do not really provide for them.  A class of\nmen may often itself not either fully understand its own wants or\nadequately express them; but it has a nearer interest and a more sure\ndiligence in the matter than any of its proctors, and therefore a\nbetter chance of success.[13]\n\n\nThis conception of democracy has come latterly to be as fine a point of\nhonor as any article in the code of chivalry or noblesse.  The\narrogance that claims a superiority of class, and the obsequiousness\nthat loves a lord, all this Nietschean \"pathos of distance,\" whether\nfelt from the heights or the depths, is sharply repugnant to a new\ngentility, that embraces all that have had the joy of promiscuous\nsocial intercourse.  From this aristocracy no one is excluded that does\nnot exclude himself through servility or superciliousness.  Its\ndistinction is liberality, that is, the habit of disputing questions\nand judging persons on their merits, with due allowance for that never\nwholly negligible possibility that the other man is right.  Among those\nwho are united by this spirit, there is one joke that is an unfailing\ntouchstone and bond of union--the institution of _lese-majeste_.  It is\na matter for unquenchable laughter, {166} that superiority should\nrequire to be protected against inferiority by the enforced signs of\nrespect, or by a hedge of reserve.\n\nIt is the ridiculousness of the haughty or the prostrate manner that is\nabsolutely fatal to it.  And its ridiculousness appears at the moment\nwhen you let in the light.  Class elevation is pretence, not\nsuperiority; complacence, not wisdom; impudence, not power.  But the\ncontempt of the just man for the unjust is edged with knowledge.  It\narises out of a sense for things as they are: a recognition of the\nbreadth and intricacy of life, compared with the pitifully small\nunderstanding of those who propose to regulate it on their own\nauthority; of the vivid reality and worth of interests that do not\nexist for those whose claims are absolute, but who are only the hapless\nvictims of a narrow and warping tradition.\n\nMany think that the modern democracy is too easy-going; too much\ninfected with charity.  Now it is quite true that it means that no\ninterest whatsoever shall be cut off through being forgotten or lightly\nestimated.  The conscience of to-day expresses the persuasion that\nthere is no stable happiness in any activity which entails cruelty,\nwhich has any other motive than to save.  But this is no more than the\nfull meaning of the Platonic dictum that \"the injuring of another can\nbe in no case just.\" [14]  This sensitiveness to {167} life that is\nremote or obscure, this feeling for the whole wide manifold of\ninterests, is not a weakness; it is enlightenment, a lively awareness\nof what is really relevant to the task of civilization.  To imagine and\nthink life collectively, with all its interests abreast, is only to\nmeasure up roundly and proportionately to the practical situation as it\nactually is.  Upon a mind thus alive to the whole spectacle there at\nonce flashes the awkwardness here, the waste there, as of an enterprise\nonly begun.  Let me allow another to interpret this latter-day\nconscience.  I quote from _First and Last Things_, written by Wells:\n\n\nI see humanity scattered over the world, dispersed, conflicting,\nunawakened. . . .  I see human life as avoidable waste and curable\nconfusion.  I see peasants living in wretched huts knee-deep in manure,\nmere parasites on their own pigs and cows; I see shy hunters wandering\nin primeval forests; I see the grimy millions who slave for industrial\nperfection; I see some who are extravagant and yet contemptible\ncreatures of luxury . . .  I see gamblers, fools, brutes, toilers,\nmartyrs.  Their disorder of effort, the spectacle of futility, fills me\nwith a passionate desire to end waste, to create order, to develop\nunderstanding. . . .  All these people reflect and are part of the\nwaste and discontent of my life, and this coordinating of the species\nin a common general end, and the effort of my personal salvation are\nthe social and the individual aspect of essentially the same desire.[15]\n\n\nBut it must not be thought that this is a matter of mere creature\ncomfort, of distributing staple {168} benefits for which men already\nhave the appetite.  For every step in the organization of life is\nattended with the growth of new interests, and especially of interests\nfostered or directly evoked by principles that have proved their moral\nvirtue.  Thus the forms of prudence and justice are supported by the\nimmediate love of these things.  And a growing rationality involves an\nincreasing subtlety and delicacy in desires, the enrichment of life\nthrough the multiplication of such sources of satisfaction as are\nconsistent with order and liberality.  The true democracy is\nconsiderate not only of present interests, but also of the potentiality\nand promise of life.\n\nOnly when the imagination pictures life in these terms is it possible\nto avoid a sense of ignominy and irresponsibility.  And, contrary to a\ncommon misconception, there is no other attitude that can reconcile one\nto the unavoidable participation in the common life of all men.  Only\nwhen thus united with one's fellows in a spirited and ennobling\nenterprise can one endure their fellowship.  Comrades in arms are not\nfastidious.  If one confines one's self, on the other hand, to a\ncultivation of one's rarity, or to a company of choice spirits, not\nonly do these values themselves grow stale and vanish away, but the\nremainder of mankind becomes a crowd, and civilization a tumult.  The\ncollective life of {169} mankind ceases to be jarring and repugnant\nonly at the moment when one enters into it and becomes infused with its\nmorale.\n\nThere will be some in whom this prospect arouses no eagerness.  The\nwise men of any day are, of course, agreed among themselves that the\ntimes are bad--that they are likely to be still worse after they, the\nremnant, have departed.  But this is an opinion which most men acquire\nwhen they attain to maturity, and happily the world has long since seen\nthat they cannot help it, and learned on that account not to take it to\nheart.  The part of Cassandra is always being played somewhere by a\ngentleman of middle age with a ripe experience of life.  But in any\nserious judgment concerning progress this bias of maturity must be\novercome by the use of the imagination, by a rational estimate of human\naffairs in their broad sweep, or, if necessary, by an infusion of\nyouthfulness.  We shall wait long if we wait\n\n  \"Till old experience do attain\n  To something like prophetic strain.\"\n\n\nThere is a more serious cause of hopelessness, in the complexity of\nmodern civilization.  Its very teeming life, its wealth, its\nmultiplicity of activities and passions, overwhelm the mind in its\nmoments of fatigue like a devouring chaos.  One longs for the day when\nthe house of {170} civilization shall be completed, so that one may\ndwell in it in peace.\n\nWe are, it is true, in a time when there is still rough work to be\ndone.  But it is not blind work.  Never has society been so clear as to\nits several special ends, never has so little effort been due to chance\nor compulsion.  Nor is it ineffective work; for man now works with good\ntools and the help of many hands.  And there is consolation in the fact\nthat the foundations of civilization are laid wide and deep in charity\nand welfare.  There remains the perpetual task of re-establishing a\nspiritual order which has been strained and wracked by the heaving of\nmany forces.  But when the sanctuaries and altars are restored it will\nprove to be a new order, richer, more liberal, and more complete than\nany since men began to live.\n\n\n\n\n{171}\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nTHE MORAL CRITICISM OF FINE ART\n\nThere are certain human activities which not only are of special\ninterest on their own account, but also hold a position of pre-eminence\nin civilization.  Such are science, philosophy, the love of nature,\npolitics, friendly intercourse, and fine art.  The last of these\nactivities enjoys a peculiar distinction because it is monumental.  It\nnot only calls into play all of the more refined capacities, but also\nrecords itself in permanent and worthy form.  Hence the fine art of any\nperiod comes to be taken as an index of its remove from savagery.\n\nIn submitting fine art to moral criticism, I shall use it as the best\nrepresentative of the whole class of activities which I have just\ndescribed.  If we have not been wholly astray in our analysis of the\ngood, it should appear that these activities owe their pre-eminence not\nto their bare quality or tone, but to their humanity, that is, to their\nconnection with a harmonious, just, and progressive state of society.\n\n{172}\n\nIt is hard for a moralist to approach such a subject without timidity,\nespecially if he is concerned with his reputation for enlightenment.\nFor there are many who think that it is a mark of intellectual\nemancipation to abandon moral standards altogether when dealing with\nthe fine arts.  Life itself, they remind us, is only the greatest of\nthe fine arts; and if life can be called beautiful, the last word has\nbeen said.  The man of taste and delicate sensibility is thus empowered\nto overrule the moralist, and replace with his ideal of grace and\nsymmetry the harsh and clumsy scruples of conscience.  Now it is\ndoubtless true that when life is good, it is also beautiful; a life in\nwhich every activity is true, in which the medium of opportunity is\nformed to accord with the most noble purpose, may well exhibit a\nsuperlative grace and symmetry.  But to be beautiful, life must be good\n_in its own way_; and the principles which define that way are the\nprinciples of morality.  Furthermore, in order that life shall be\nbeautiful it must be made an object of perception or contemplation;\nwhile, in order to be good, it must be lived.  And the principles which\ndefine the living of life are moral.\n\nThe confusion of goodness with beauty is, therefore, doubly\nstultifying.  On the one hand, it substitutes for the moral conception\nof value conceptions that morally are indeterminate.  For {173} grace\nand symmetry may be exhibited by life on any plane whatsoever, provided\nonly that it acquires stability.  Indeed, one who aims above all things\nto make his life beautiful, ought consistently to abandon the moral\neffort to bring life to its maximum of fulfilment, and cultivate\nperfection of form within the sphere of least resistance.  It is\nproverbial that many lower forms of life are more beautiful than man,\nbut it is not always seen that these are the stationary forms of life,\nwholly lacking in that principle of rational reconstruction which is\nthe condition of moral goodness.  On the other hand, the confusion of\ngoodness with beauty tends to substitute appreciation for action, and\nthus to make of life a spectacle rather than an enterprise.  Thus to\nreplace ethical with aesthetic conceptions is to take the heart out of\nmorality.  Beauty is precisely as relevant to moral goodness as it is\nto truth; and if investigators were taught to devise the prettiest\ntheory imaginable, the result would be no more fatal to knowledge than\nis aesthetic sentimentalism to life.  To think conformably with reality\nis knowledge, and to act conformably with all interests is life.  If\nbeauty is to be added unto truth and goodness, it must come as the\nnatural sequel to a single-minded fidelity to these motives.\n\nBut even if it be true that moral standards are absolutely independent\nof the standards proper {174} to art, it is not yet clear that the\nmoralist is justified in regarding his standards as more fundamental\nthan those of art.  He may be politely but positively informed that he\nis not to trespass.  Now I feel that, after what has preceded, I am\nfortified against the charge of impertinence.  Art is subject to moral\ncriticism, because morality is nothing more nor less than the law which\ndetermines the whole order of interests, within which art and every\nother good thing is possible.  It will scarcely be denied that art is\nan expression of interest, that both its creation and its enjoyment are\nactivities, moods, or phases of life; and it follows that before this\nspecific interest can be safely or adequately satisfied, it is\nnecessary to fulfil the general conditions that underlie the\nsatisfaction of all interests.  It is as absurd to speak of art for\nart's sake as it is to speak of drinking for drinking's sake, if you\nmean that this interest is entitled to entirely free play.  Art, like\nall other interests, can flourish only in a sound and whole society,\nand the law of soundness and wholeness in life is morality.\n\nThe claim of art to exemption from moral criticism is commonly due to\none or both of these two forms of misapprehension.\n\nIn the first place, it is assumed that morality, too, is a special\ninterest; and that if the artist or connoisseur lets the moralist\nalone, it is no more {175} than fair that the moralist should let him\nalone.\n\nBut this assumption is false; as false as though the athlete were to\nchafe at the warnings of his medical adviser on the ground that general\nhealth was irrelevant to endurance or strength or agility.  Now,\ndoubtless, an athlete may for a time neglect his general health with no\nnoticeable diminution of his skill; but that is only because he already\npossesses the health to abuse.  It still remains true that the\nprinciples of health which the trainer represents are the principles\nupon which his skill is fundamentally based.  Nature has made him\nhealthy according to these principles, and he simply does not recognize\nhis debt to them.  Similarly, art may flourish in spite of the neglect\nof social and individual well-being, so that the pleadings of the moral\nadvocate seem irrelevant; but this is possible only because the social\norder is already established, and the personality formed, according to\nthe very principles which the moralist is announcing.  Art may\ndissipate moral health, but it nevertheless lives only by virtue of\nsuch a source of supply.  The basal condition of art is not the element\nof social evil or morbid temperament that may attract attention, but\nthe measure of soundness that nevertheless remains.\n\nThe second misapprehension that lends plausibility to the excuses of\nart is the assumption that {176} the moralist is proposing to\n_substitute_ his canons for those of art.  Now it is entirely true that\nmoral insight in no way equips one for connoisseurship.  There is a\nspecial aptitude and training that enables one to discriminate in such\nmatters.  But the moralist is judging art _on moral grounds_.  Hence he\ndoes not say, \"I see that your painting is ugly\"; but he does say, \"I\nsee that your painting, which you esteem beautiful (and I take your\nword for it), is _bad_.\"  In the same way the moralist does not say to\nthe self-indulgent man, \"I see that you are not having a good time\"\n(the self-indulgent man is likely to know better); but he says, \"I see\nthat it is bad for you to be having this particular kind of good time.\"\nIn other words, for the moralist larger issues are at stake, and he is\nconsidering these on the grounds proper to them.  He is charged with\ndefining and applying the principles which determine the good of\ninterests on the whole; and while his conclusions can never replace\nthose of the expert within a special field, they will always possess\nauthority to overrule them.\n\n\nII\n\nSince we are to be occupied mainly with the bearing of art on morality,\nI wish so far as possible to avoid debatable questions concerning the\norigin and ultimate meaning of art.  But we {177} cannot proceed\nwithout agreeing on a use of terms.  I shall attempt, therefore, to\ngive a straightforward and empirical account of that which comes to be\ncalled art in the history of civilization.[1]\n\nWe have already had occasion to observe that from the very beginning\nlife adapts the environment to its uses; that is, gives to matter and\nto mechanical processes a new form in which these fulfil interest.\nThus an area of land deforested and cultivated, or two stones so hewn\nand fitted as to afford a grinding surface, take on the imprint of the\nhuman need for food.  Now such reorganizations of nature as the farm or\nthe mill, however crude they may be, are works of art in the broadest\nsense.  And in this same sense all the tools, furniture, and panoply of\ncivilization, from the most primitive to the most highly evolved,\nwhatever without exception owes its form to its fulfilment of an\ninterest, may with entire propriety be called art.\n\nIn the great majority of cases the work of art after being made is\n_used_; that is, it becomes an instrument in the making of something\nelse.  Such art is called useful or _industrial art_.  But it sometimes\nhappens that the work of art is valued, not as an instrument in the\nordinary practical sense, but simply as an object to be experienced.\nIn the Scriptural account of creation it is said that \"God saw\neverything that he had {178} made, and, behold, it was good.\"  When the\nproducts of activity are thus found good in the beholding of them they\nbecome works of _fine art_.\n\nIt would be improper sharply to divorce these two motives, or to make\none any more original than the other.  The interest in the exercise of\nthe sensibilities, or other powers of apprehension, is doubtless as\nprimitive as any of the special interests of the organism; and it is\nimprobable that man ever made anything without getting some\nsatisfaction from looking at it or handling it or feeling it.  Commonly\nthe same object is both useful and beautiful; as was the case with the\nprimitive religious dance, which at the same time indulged a taste for\nrhythm and served as a means of propitiating the gods.\n\nBut the motive of fine art becomes clearer when it is purer.  Objects\nare then made with explicit reference to the interest taken in\napprehending them.  I do not mean that they cannot on that account be\nuseful, for without doubt utility itself contributes to beauty; but\nonly that they owe their form primarily to the aesthetic interest.  The\nmotive of fine art in its purity appears when special materials are\nselected on account of their plasticity and their appeal to the more\nhighly developed senses.  Fine arts that employ one medium are now\nseparated and perfected through the cultivation of expert proficiency.\n{179} Thus there arise such arts as painting and music, one of which\ngives form to light and appeals to the eye, while the other gives form\nto sound and appeals to the ear.  In this way society comes to acquire\nand accumulate objects which are designed, either wholly or in part,\nwith reference to the special aesthetic interest.  They are the\ncreatures of this interest, and their place in life is determined by\nit.  To understand their importance and to estimate their moral value\nit is therefore necessary to isolate this interest and examine it with\nsome care.[2]\n\nBy the aesthetic interest I mean to refer to the interest that is taken\nin the work of fine art by the observer.  There is undoubtedly a\nspecial interest in creation, but it is of relatively small importance.\nEven the artist is controlled largely by the interest in observing his\nown work; and art is a serious social concern only because of its\nappeal to the unlimited number of persons who may enjoy it without\nhaving any hand in the making.  Now, in the passing allusion which I\nhave made to the aesthetic interest, I have already used the term which\nis most convenient for purposes of general definition.  The aesthetic\ninterest is _the interest in apprehension_.  What I mean by this will\nbecome clear when I compare it with two other interests which may also\nbe taken in the content of experience.  There is, in the first {180}\nplace, what is called the practical interest, that is, the interest in\nan object on account of what can be done with it by manipulation or\ncombination with other objects.  Secondly, there is the theoretical\ninterest in the structure of reality, manifesting itself in the\nexploration of the object and its context.  Now the interest in\napprehension is not an interest in what can be done with the object,\nnor in its real structure, but in _the present conscious reaction to\nit_.  One may take all three of these interests in the same object.\nThus if I pluck the flower and take it home to my wife, I give evidence\nof a practical interest in it; if I kneel down and examine it\ncarefully, I suggest the botanist; while if I continue to gaze at it\nwhere it lies, it would appear that I enjoy simply looking at it.  It\nis this interest simply in looking at things, in just the perceiving,\nfeeling, thinking, or imagining them, that I mean to sum up as the\ninterest in apprehension, or the aesthetic interest.  When objects\nexcite this interest, when, that is, any state or process of\nconsciousness of which they are the content tends to be prolonged for\nits own sake, they are said to be beautiful.  And objects which are\ndeliberately and artificially invested with a peculiar capacity to\nexcite this interest are works of fine art.\n\nI shall not undertake to explain the interest in apprehension further\nthan to describe certain {181} typical forms which it assumes.  These\nforms will serve not only to illustrate its general meaning, but also\nto amplify that meaning in a manner that will prove important when we\ncome to the discussion of moral questions.  The forms which I shall\nmention are by no means exhaustive of the possible forms of the\ninterest in apprehension, while the order that I shall follow is only\nroughly the order of increasing complexity.\n\nThere is, in the first place, an interest in _sensation_.  I do not, of\ncourse, mean to assert that any state of purely sensuous enjoyment is\npossible; but only that the senses have a certain bias of their own\nwhich will modify every state in which they are called into play.\nThere is a delight of the eye and ear, a pleasantness to the touch, an\nagreeableness of taste and smell, wholly without reference to anything\nbeyond.  The arts which employ any of these senses must satisfy their\nbias, however much they may appeal to higher faculties; nothing which\nrankly offends them can by any possible means be made beautiful.  Thus\npainting must be charming in color, and music in tone; and certain\ncolors and tones are charming for no deeper reason than that which\nmakes certain foods palatable.\n\nThe interest in _perception_[3] assumes special prominence in the great\nvisual art of painting.  For the process of perception is most\nelaborated {182} in connection with the sense of vision, this being\npeculiarly the human organ of watchfulness and orientation.  The\ninterest in perception is the interest in completing the sensation or\nrounding it into an object or situation with the aid of thought and\nimagination.  In painting, as most commonly in life, the stimulus is\nvisual--texture, perspective, or a quality of light.\n\nThe _emotional_ form of apprehension plays the predominant part in\nrepresentations of human action, in music, and in the appreciation of\nnature.  It is in this latter connection that we can, I think, best\nunderstand it; and I propose for purposes of illustration to record an\nexperience of my own.\n\nI walked one night on the deck of a steamer plying between New York and\nBermuda, and gave myself up wholly to the aspect of nature.  The moon\nshone brightly half-way between the horizon and zenith, and opened a\npath of light from where I stood to the uttermost distance.  With\nhalf-closed eyes I watched the hard lustre of the waves, or turned from\nthis to the smooth roll of the foam turned up by the steamer's prow.\nAnd I remember that I seemed to dwell upon these things with an instant\nrelish, like that with which my lungs devoured the fresh and plentiful\nair.  But when I looked towards the moon along the path of light, there\nwas something that stirred me more deeply.  The prospect of an endless\njourney opened {183} out before me, like an invitation to live, or a\nfulness of opportunity.  And I seemed to leap in response, rejoicing in\nmy power.  But I did not act; it was as though I already achieved and\npossessed.  Presently I turned from the path of light to the blackness\nthat beset it on every side.  In this blackness there seemed to lurk\nevery kind of unknown danger; I was moved with a sense of helplessness,\nand shrank from the thought of being deserted there.  And yet though I\nwas afraid, the fear never seemed to _possess_ me, but always to be\npossessed _by_ me, as mine to prolong and exult in as I would.\n\nNow I think that the interpretation of my dream is this.  Deeply\nimplanted in the organism are certain co-ordinated responses such as\ncourage and fear, or such as love, hate, combativeness, pity, and\nemulation.  They may owe their present form to habit, but they are all\nrooted in instinct, and so call the body into play as a unit.[4]\nPrimarily they are plans of action, through which the organism promptly\ndeals with practical emergencies.  But it is possible for man to detach\nhimself from overt motor relations with his environment; and in this\ncase these responses return as it were into the body and reverberate\nthere, taking on a purely emotional form which may be valued for\nitself.  Thus courage and fear may lead to no act of bravery or\ncaution, but {184} remain simply _experiences_ of courage and fear,\npromoted and treasured by the imagination.  Nature will probably remain\nthe object which evokes these responses most keenly, because nature is\nthe hereditary environment towards which they were originally directed.\nBut human action is scarcely less moving.  Hence dramatic art, or the\nrepresentation of social and moral confrontations, will both arouse and\nprolong the old passions, thus evoking a deeper and more massive\nresponse than the play of the senses.\n\nI fully recognize that the value of dramatic art is by no means limited\nto its emotional appeal.  I contend only that it does make such an\nappeal, and that it owes to that appeal, to its evoking of sympathy,\nlove, or hate, to its stirring of incipient action, the peculiar\nintensity and reverberance of the enjoyment which it affords.  The same\nholds true, I think, of poetry generally, where this deals with life.\nThe case of music is more doubtful.  It is generally agreed that the\nenjoyment of music has never been adequately accounted for, albeit it\nis probably more ancient than man.  But that music does arouse the\ngreat emotions, and owe its popularity mainly to that fact, can\nscarcely be questioned.  It is only necessary to add that over and\nabove this appeal, as well as its appeal to the ear and to an\nintellectual apprehension of its technical forms, it seems to {185} be\ncapable of developing emotions of its own; that is, experiences which\ndo not coincide with the instinctive emotions, but which have a like\nmassiveness and organic reverberation.  It may be, as Walter Pater\ninsists, that in this respect \"all art constantly aspires towards the\ncondition of music.\" [5]  But this does not contradict the fact that\nsuch arts _are_ emotionally stimulating, will always stir men as men\nare capable of being stirred, and in society at large will make their\nmain appeal to the fundamental and constant emotions, cultivating the\nenjoyment of love, fear, and the other elemental passions for the very\npoignancy and thrill of them.\n\nFor the intellectual type of apprehension I propose to employ the term\n_discernment_.  I mean the apprehension of an _idea_ when conveyed by\nsome sensuous medium; the finding or recovery of some unity of thought\nin a perceptual context.  When discernment in this sense is directly\nagreeable without any ulterior motive, it is a special case of the\naesthetic interest.  From this interest the representative or pictorial\nelement in art derives its value.\n\nLet me illustrate my meaning by referring to what Taine says of Greek\nsculpture:\n\n\nHere we have the living body, complete and without a veil, admired and\nglorified, standing on its pedestal without scandal and exposed to all\neyes.  {186} What is its purpose, and what idea, through sympathy, is\nthe statue to convey to spectators?  An idea which, to us, is almost\nwithout meaning because it belongs to another age and another epoch of\nthe human mind.  The head is without significance; unlike ours it is\nnot a world of graduated conceptions, excited passions, and a medley of\nsentiments; the face is not sunken, sharp, and disturbed; it has not\nmany characteristics, scarcely any expression, and is generally in\nrepose. . . .  The contemporaries of Pericles and Plato did not require\nviolent and surprising effects to stimulate weary attention or to\nirritate an uneasy sensibility.  A blooming and healthy body, capable\nof all virile and gymnastic actions, a man or woman of fine growth and\nnoble race, a serene form in full light, a simple and natural harmony\nof lines happily commingled, was the most animated spectacle they could\ndwell on.  They desired to contemplate man proportioned to his organs\nand to his condition and endowed with every perfection within these\nlimits; they demanded nothing more and nothing less; anything besides\nwould have struck them as extravagance, deformity, or disease.  Such is\nthe circle within which the simplicity of their culture kept them.[6]\n\n\nIn other words, Greek art expressed the rare quality of Greek life; its\nnaturalism, its compactness, its clearness.  And it did so\ninstinctively both to the artist and the spectator.  We are not to\nthink that because, in order to understand ancient art, it may be\nnecessary for us first to obtain a conception of life and then to match\nit in art, this is essential to its appreciation.  On the contrary, the\nobject of art is not beautiful {187} until it flashes the idea upon us,\ncommunicating an ideal unity that is not intellectually articulate at\nall.  This must always be the effect upon contemporaries, in whom the\nidea is so assimilated as to be unconscious.  But the idea is there\nnone the less; and the full beauty cannot exist for any one who is\nincapable of discerning the idea, and rejoicing in the apprehension of\nit.\n\nThe incomparable excellence of Greek sculpture is due to a type of\ngenius in which clearness of mind and delicacy of touch are united.\nAmong the Greeks the term infinite was a term of disparagement; they\nthought roundly and cleanly, thus preferring ideas to vague surmises.\nThis was their first gift.  And, adding to it a sensitiveness to form,\nthey were enabled to _express themselves_, without redundancy and\nexaggeration, bringing whatever medium they employed into accord with\nthe idea.  It is this felicity and luminousness that gives to the art\nof the Greeks a peculiar appeal to the intelligence.  For the mind\ndelights in definiteness and light.\n\nBut the Greek conception of life belongs to an age preceding the advent\nof what has proved to be the European religion.  And Christianity has\nso reconstructed the experience of the average man through its\nsensitiveness to pain, and its emphasis on what is called \"the inner\nlife,\" that I want further to illustrate the meaning of {188}\ndiscernment in art, by referring to the representation of the spirit of\nthe Renaissance in the painting of Leonardo da Vinci.  I quote the\nfollowing from Pater's description of \"La Gioconda\":\n\n\nThe presence that thus rose so strangely beside the waters, is\nexpressive of what in the ways of a thousand years men had come to\ndesire.  Hers is the head upon which all \"the ends of the world are\ncome,\" and the eyelids are a little weary.  It is a beauty wrought out\nfrom within upon the flesh, the deposit, little cell by cell, of\nstrange thoughts and fantastic reveries and exquisite passions.  Set it\nfor a moment beside one of those white Greek goddesses or beautiful\nwomen of antiquity, and how would they be troubled by this beauty, into\nwhich the soul with all its maladies has passed.  All the thoughts and\nexperience of the world have etched and moulded there, in that which\nthey have of power to refine and make expressive the human form, the\nanimalism of Greece, the lust of Rome, the reveries of the middle age\nwith its spiritual ambition and imaginative loves, the return of the\npagan world, the sins of the Borgias.  She is older than the rocks\namong which she sits; like the vampire, which has been dead many times,\nand learned the secrets of the grave; and has been a diver in deep\nseas, and keeps their fallen day about her; and trafficked for strange\nwebs with Eastern merchants; and, as Leda, was the mother of Helen of\nTroy, and, as Saint Anne, the mother of Mary; and all this has been to\nher but as the sound of lyres and flutes, and lives only in the\ndelicacy with which it has moulded the changing lineaments, and tinged\nthe eyelids and the hands.[7]\n\n\nThe power of Renaissance painting is not wholly a matter of color,\ntexture, modelling, and composition; for though it contains these and\nmany {189} sensuous and perceptual values besides, it conveys through\nthem with surpassing truth and delicacy ideas as evasive as they are\nsubtle and profound.  There is an ecstasy of mind in the discernment of\nthese ideas, and a blend of emotion that follows in their train, both\nof which are conditioned by insight; that is, by a process that is\nneither sensuous, perceptual, nor emotional merely, but, in an\nadditional sense, intellectual.\n\nThe interest in apprehension may thus be exhibited and satisfied in\ndivers ways, differing according to the special processes of\nconsciousness which they call into play.  And while it may be crude or\ncultivated, it is safe to say that in all of its modes it is present to\nsome degree in every individual human life.  The simple-minded person\nwho hisses the villain of the melodrama, and he who takes pleasure in\nthe inevitableness of the Greek tragedy, are exhibiting the same\ninterest in the emotions evoked by the spectacle of life.  There is\nonly a difference of training and sophistication between the man who\nenjoys a cheap chromo for the color or the \"likeness,\" and one who\nappreciates Velasquez's treatment of light or the characterization of\nFranz Hals.\n\nIn the enjoyment of the highest forms of art these various modes of\napprehension will be united, each so contributing to the enhancement of\nthe {190} rest that it is impossible sharply to divide them.  Nor do I\nventure any opinion as to which of these modes, if any, is fundamental\nin the different arts or in fine art as a whole.  It is sufficient for\nour purposes to know that art does exercise and develop human nature in\nall of these ways.\n\nWe are now in a position to define a programme of criticism.  Art\nthrives because it fulfils a complex and multiform interest.  It is\nsupported by an interest which it supplies with its proper objects.\nHence it falls within the circle of life where questions of prudence,\njustice, and good-will are paramount.  But, because moral\nconsiderations must thus in the nature of the case take precedence over\npurely aesthetic considerations, this proves nothing whatsoever\nconcerning the way in which this precedence should be established.  It\nwas Plato's belief that society should employ a rigorous censorship,\nand banish the offending poet:\n\n\nWe will fall down and worship him as a sweet and holy and wonderful\nbeing; but we must also inform him that there is no place for such as\nhe is in our State--the law will not allow them.  And so when we have\nanointed him with myrrh, and set a garland of wool upon his head, we\nshall send him away to another city.[8]\n\n\nBut there is another way of protecting society from whatever may be the\nevil effects of art, and that is to educate the individual and the\n{191} community in their use of art.  This would mean, in place of a\nregulation of the supply, a regulation of the demand.  It would mean\nthat the aesthetic interest itself, like every other interest within\nthe moral economy, should be so controlled as to make it as conducive\nas possible to health and abundance of life.  The exercise or\ncultivation of the interest in art would then, like the love of nature\nor of social intercourse, be unlimited so far as its objects were\nconcerned, but limited through its relation to other interests within\nthe individual or community purpose.  But with this difference\nconcerning the proper remedy, the present inquiry will coincide in its\nintent and presuppositions with that model of all moral criticisms, the\n_Republic_ of Plato.  What are the possibilities for life of this\naesthetic interest or love of art?  How is it liable to abuse or\nexcess?  What is its bearing on other interests, and how far does it\ntend to make life gracious and happy, without destroying its balance or\ncompromising its truth?  These are the questions on which I hope that I\nmay be able to throw some light by calling attention to the following\ncharacteristics possessed by the aesthetic interest: _self-sufficiency,\npervasiveness, vicariousness, stimulation of action, fixation of\nideas,_ and _liberality_.[9]\n\n\n{192}\n\nIII\n\nIt has long been pointed out that the aesthetic interest, unlike the\nbodily appetites, is _self-sufficient_, in that it is capable of being\nevenly sustained.  It depends on no antecedent craving, and has no\ndefinite periodic limit of satiety.  It engages the capacities that\nare, on the whole, the most docile and the least liable to progressive\nfatigue, while through its own internal variety it is guarded against\nmonotony.  Consequently the aesthetic interest is peculiarly capable of\nbeing continued and developed through a lifetime, providing a constant\nand increasing source of satisfaction.\n\nFurthermore, the aesthetic interest is resourceful, easily supplying\nitself with the objects which it uses.  It follows that it contributes\nto independence, being like the \"speculative activity\" of\nAristotle,[10] in giving the individual a means of happiness in himself\nwithout the aid of his fellows or the favor of fortune.  Since the\naesthetic interest is in these ways self-sufficient, its continuous\nreturn of good being guaranteed, it is one of the safest of investments.\n\nBut every special interest is a source of danger in direct proportion\nto its isolation.  Its very self-sufficiency may serve to promote a\nnarrow concentration, a blindness to ulterior interests {193} and wider\npossibilities.  This undue dwelling on the given material of life may,\nas we have seen in an earlier chapter, attach to any interest; but the\naesthetic interest is peculiarly liable to it.  This is due to the fact\nthat, in so far as an object appeals to the aesthetic interest, it\ntends not to develop, but to retain some fixed aspect in which the\napprehension of it is agreeable.  The various practical interests\nramify indefinitely through the dynamic relations of objects, and\nthrough the handling of objects common to a variety of interests.  Once\nengaged in what is called \"active life\" one tends to be drawn into the\nmain current of enterprise and made aware of the larger issues.  And\nthe theoretical interest also tends to lead beyond itself; for it\nprompts the mind to examine the whole nature of objects, and to explore\ntheir context without limit in the hope of completer truth.  But the\naesthetic interest readily acquires equilibrium, and feels no\ninducement to leave off an activity which, though its limits may be\nnarrow, is free and continuous within them.  Plato accused art of being\nessentially imitative, and so of confirming the vulgar respect for the\nsurface aspect of things.[11]  It is truer, I think, to say that the\naesthetic interest is quiescent, tending to perpetuate experience in\nany form that is found pleasant, and without respect either to\npractical exigencies or to the order of truth.  {194} Hence this\ninterest on account of its very self-sufficiency offers a passive\nresistance to the formal principles of moral organization--to prudence,\npurpose, justice, and good-will.\n\n\nIV\n\nThe aesthetic interest is the good genius of the powers of\napprehension, making them fruitful in their own kind.  Now the powers\nof apprehension are engaged during all the waking hours, and if they\ncan be taught to mediate a good of their own, that good will _pervade_\nthe whole of life.  It is through the cultivation of the aesthetic\ninterest that there is most hope of redeeming the waste places, of\ngiving to intervals and accidental juxtapositions some graciousness and\nprofit.  With all the world to see and contemplate, and with the eye\nand mind wherewith to contemplate them, there is a limitless abundance\nof good things always and everywhere available.  Let me quote Arthur\nBenson's account of this discovery:\n\n\nThe world was full of surprises; trees drooped their leaves over\nscreening walls, houses had backs as well as fronts; music was heard\nfrom shuttered windows, lights burned in upper rooms.  There were a\nthousand pretty secrets in the ways of people to each other.  Then,\ntoo, there were ideas, as thick as sparrows in an ivied wall.  One had\nbut to clap one's hands and cry out, and there was a fluttering {195}\nof innumerable wings; life was as full of bubbles, forming, rising into\namber foam, as a glass of sparkling wine.[12]\n\n\nTo this delight which the casual environment affords a sensitive\nobserver, art may add through a decorous furnishing of city and house.\nOr the instruments of other interests may be made to give pleasure of\nthemselves, so that there may be no long periods of deferred reward.\nThus to the hire of manual labor may be added the immediate\ncompensation which comes from a love of the tools, or from the\nsatisfaction taken in the aspect of work done; to physical exercise may\nbe added the love of nature, to scholarship the love of scientific\nform, and to social intercourse the love of personal beauty or of\nconversation.  In these ways, and in countless ways beside, the\naesthetic interest may multiply the richness of life.\n\nSociety is, on the whole, protected against the danger of overemphasis\non the aesthetic interest, through the habitual subordination of it in\npublic opinion to standards of efficiency.  Men commonly believe, and\nare justified in so believing, that a life delivered wholly to the\naesthetic interest is frivolous; amusing itself with \"bubbles\" and\n\"amber foam,\" while supported by a community in whose graver and more\nurgent concerns it takes no part.  Probably no one has {196} done more\nthan Pater to persuade men of the present generation that it is worth\nwhile to \"catch at any exquisite passion, . . . or any stirring of the\nsenses\"; and yet he is not a prophet in our day.  Is it possibly\nbecause in that same famous conclusion to the _Renaissance_ he said,\n\"Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself, is the end,\" [13]\nand thus exposed himself to misunderstanding, if not to refutation, at\nthe hands of any one of average moral enlightenment?  The moral lesson\nis one that none have escaped, and that only a few are permitted to\nforget.  This lesson has taught with unvarying reiteration that acts\nare to be judged by their consequences; that all purposes are\nconstructive, and so far as wise fitted into the building of\ncivilization; that experience itself, in Pater's sense, is possible\nonly as a fruit of experience.  A life in which the aesthetic interest\nunduly dominates, in which action is transmuted into pulses of\nsensation, and the means of efficiency into the ends of contemplation,\nis an idle life, protected from the consequences of its own impotency\nonly by the constructive labor of others.  He who from prolonged gazing\nat the spoon forgets to carry it to his mouth, must die of hunger and\ncease from gazing altogether, or be fed by his friends.  The\ninstruments of achievement may be adorned, and made delightful in the\nusing, but they must not {197} on that account be mistaken for the\nachievement; leisure may be made a worthy pastime through the\ncultivation of the sensibilities, but it must not be substituted for\nvocation, or allowed to infect a serious purpose with decay.\n\n\nV\n\nIt has always been recognized that there is a peculiar massiveness or\ndepth in aesthetic satisfaction, as though it somehow carried with it\nthe satisfaction of all interests.  And this is not due merely to the\nfact that other interests tend to fall away or remit their claims; it\nis due besides to the fact that other interests may in a sense actually\nbe fulfilled in the aesthetic interest.  In other words, this interest\nserves a vicarious function, transmuting other interests into its own\nform, and then affording them a fulfilment which they are incapable of\nattaining when exercised in their own right.\n\nThis occurs when other interests, such as love or personal ambition,\nare imagined or represented, and thus made objects of agreeable\napprehension.  There is in this a compensation for failure, without\nwhich life would be stripped of one of its main barriers against\ndespair.  Those whom circumstance has provided no opportunity for the\nfulfilment of interests so ingenerate as maternal love or heroic\naction, may, in a way, make themselves whole {198} through the\ncontemplation of these things; for the contemplation of them engages\nthe same instincts, arouses the same emotions, but without requiring\nthe existence of their objects.  The prolongation of arduous and\nuncertain effort is compensated through the imaginative anticipation of\nsuccess, or through the apprehension of some symbol of perfect\nfruition.  It is through this happy illumination of struggle with a\nvision of fulfilment, that mankind is reconciled to such tasks as\ncivilization and spiritual wholeness; tasks in which great efforts\nproduce small results, and of which the end is not seen.\n\nNow it remains true, of course, that such vicarious fulfilment is not\nreal fulfilment; and to suppose it to be, is one of the most serious\nerrors for which the aesthetic interest is responsible.  The man who,\nwith clenched hands and quickened pulse, is watching some image of\nhimself as it triumphs over obstacles and arrives at the summit of his\nambition, may and doubtless does _feel_ like Alexander, but he\nnevertheless has not conquered the world; and if he thinks he has, he\nwill probably never conquer any of it.  It must be remembered that the\nvicarious aesthetic fulfilment of interests is the easiest fulfilment\nof them; and that it may, therefore, become a form of self-indulgence\nand a source of false complacency.  A sanguine imagination is one of\nthe {199} chief causes of worldly failure; an exaggerated interest in\nrepresentations of virtue is a common cause of irresponsibility and of\nhypocrisy.  William James, in a passage that is frequently quoted,\ncalls attention also to the danger of acquiring a chronic emotionality.\n\n\nThe weeping of a Russian lady over the fictitious personages in the\nplay, while her coachman is freezing to death on his seat outside, is\nthe sort of thing that everywhere happens on a less glaring scale.\nEven the habit of excessive indulgence in music, for those who are\nneither performers themselves nor musically gifted enough to take it in\na purely intellectual way, has probably a relaxing effect upon the\ncharacter.  One becomes filled with emotions which habitually pass\nwithout prompting to any deed, and so the inertly sentimental condition\nis kept up.  The remedy would be, never to suffer one's self to have an\nemotion at a concert, without expressing it afterwards in _some_ active\nway.  Let the expression be the least thing in the world--speaking\ngenially to one's aunt, or giving up one's seat in a horse-car, if\nnothing more heroic offers--but let it not fail to take place.[14]\n\n\nBut not only is it possible through the exaggeration of the aesthetic\ninterest to substitute apparent achievement for real achievement; it is\npossible to extract solace from the contemplation of failure itself.\nIs there any one who has not met the man who is actually made buoyant\nby his consistent misfortune?  For it is flattering that an evil fate\nshould single one out from the crowd for conspicuous attention, that\nall the {200} tragedy of existence should centre upon one's devoted\nhead.  And a certain interest attaches even to unredeemed misery and\nabject futility on their own account, if only they can be viewed from\nthe right angle, and with a cultivated sense for such things.  Now thus\nto poetize the tragedy of one's own life is fatuous; it is like\nenjoying one's dizziness on the brink of a precipice, or the pangs of\nsickness without seeking a remedy.  But to poetize the tragedy of\nothers, to fiddle while Rome is burning, is brutal.  Nevertheless,\nthough it is not commonly possible to do things on Nero's scale,\nprecisely the same attitude is the commonest thing in the world, and is\nfostered by the whole aesthetic bias of the race.  The meanness of\nsavage life, the squalid poverty of the slums, suffice in their\npicturesqueness to make a holiday for those who are more occupied with\nimages than with deeds.  And there is actually a philosophy of life in\nwhich all things are held to be good because they afford a tragic,\nsublime, and, therefore, pleasing spectacle.  This is the very extreme\nof moral infidelity, the abandonment of the will to make good for the\ninsidious and relaxing interest in making things seem good as they are.\n\n{201}\n\nVI\n\nThat a beautiful object commonly _stimulates_ a motor response is\nbeyond question.  Even when it does not appeal to any definite emotion\nit is _generally_ stimulating, through its affording to the natural\npowers at some point an unusual harmony with their environment.  And\nwhen there is a definite emotional appeal, there is a tendency to act.\nFor, as we have seen, originally the fundamental emotions were all\nco-ordinated reactions to the environment, enlisting the whole organism\nto cope with some practical emergency.  That the emotions should become\n_mere_ emotions is due to the modification of instinct by habit.\nWhatever, then, arouses the emotions does in some degree stir to\naction.  So that one of the most important moral uses of art is its\nalliance with other interests in order to intensify their appeal, in\norder to make them more instantly moving.  Art is a means of enlivening\ndormant impulses; as music is a means of rekindling the love of country\nor the love of God, so that men may be brought to take up arms with\nenthusiasm or endure reverses without complaint.\n\nBut this motor excitement which art stimulates may be morally\nindeterminate; that is, it may be capable of being discharged in any\nway that accident or bias may select.  In other words, {202} art may\ncommunicate power without controlling its use, thus merely increasing\nthe disorder and instability of life.  Or it may serve to exaggerate\nthe appeal of the present interest, until it becomes ungovernable and\nobscures ulterior interests.  This tendency to promote dissoluteness is\nthe most serious charge which Plato brings against the arts.  After\nreferring to the unseemly hilarity to which men are incited by the\ncomic stage, he adds:\n\n\nAnd the same may be said of lust and anger and all the other\naffections, of desire and pain and pleasure which are held to be\ninseparable from every action--in all of them poetry feeds and waters\nthe passions instead of drying them up; she lets them rule instead of\nruling them as they ought to be ruled, with a view to the happiness and\nvirtue of mankind.[15]\n\n\nIn an earlier passage Plato discusses types of music in relation to\naction, the Lydian which is sorrowful, and the Ionian which is\nindolent; showing that selection must be made if men are not to be at\nthe mercy of random influences.  It is not necessary, as Plato would\nhave it, to banish Lydian and Ionian harmonies from society; but within\none's personal economy, within the republic of one's own soul, one must\nprefer with Plato those stirrings of the emotions which support and\nre-enforce one's moral purpose:\n\n\nOf the harmonies I know nothing, but I want to have one warlike, which\nwill sound the word or note {203} which a brave man utters in the hour\nof danger and stem resolve, or when his cause is failing, and he is\ngoing to wounds or death or is overtaken by some other evil, and at\nevery such crisis meets fortune with calmness and endurance; and\nanother to be used by him in times of peace and freedom of action, when\nthere is no pressure of necessity, and he is seeking to persuade God by\nprayer, or man by instruction and advice. . . .  These two harmonies I\nask you to leave: the strain of necessity and the strain of freedom,\nthe strain of the unfortunate and the strain of the fortunate, the\nstrain of courage and the strain of temperance; these, I say, leave.[16]\n\n\nVII\n\nWhere art is not employed directly to incite action, it may still be\nindirectly conducive to action through _fixing_ ideas and inclining the\nsentiments towards them.  This is probably its most important moral\nfunction.  The ideas which are of the greatest significance for conduct\nare ideas which receive no adequate embodiment in the objects of\nnature.  Every broad purpose and developed ideal requires the exercise\nof the constructive imagination.  But the immediate images of the\nimagination are fluctuating and transient, and need to be supported\nthrough being embodied in some enduring medium.  Thus monuments serve\nas emblems of nationality; or, as in the thirteenth century, all the\narts may unite to represent and suggest the objects of religious {204}\nfaith.  Poetry and song have always served as means of incarnating the\nmore delicate shadings of a racial ideal; and every man would be a poet\nif he could, and trace the outline of that hope which stirs him and\nwhich is not the hope of any other man.\n\nBut it must be made clear that art does more than make ideas definite\nand permanent.  It inclines the sentiments towards them.  The great\npower of art lies in its function of making ideas alluring.  Now\nwhatever is loved or admired is, in the long run, sought out, imitated,\nand served.  Understanding this, the ancient Athenians sought to\neducate the passions, and employed music to that end.  This is\nAristotle's justification of such a course:\n\n\nSince then music is a pleasure, and virtue consists in rejoicing and\nloving and hating aright, there is clearly nothing which we are so much\nconcerned to acquire and to cultivate as the power of forming right\njudgments, and of taking delight in good dispositions and noble\nactions.  Rhythm and melody supply imitations of anger and gentleness,\nand also of courage and temperance and of virtues and vices in general,\nwhich hardly fall short of the actual affections, as we know from our\nown experience, for in listening to such strains our souls undergo a\nchange.  The habit of feeling pleasure or pain at mere representations\nis not far removed from the same feeling about realities.[17]\n\n\nThe simple and incontestable truth of these statements is a standing\ncondemnation of the {205} usual environment of youth.  Virtue consists,\nas much as it ever did, \"in rejoicing and loving and hating aright\";\nbut the guidance of these sentiments to their proper objects is left\nalmost wholly to chance.  It is by making the good also beautiful, by\nilluminating the modes of virtue with jewels, and endearing them to the\nimagination, that the moral reason may be re-enforced from early days\nby high spirits.  It should be a task of education, using this means\neither in the home or the school or the city at large, to inculcate a\nright habit of admiration.\n\nIf art is to serve a moral end in fixing and embellishing ideas, it\nmust be _true_.  What I mean by this most important qualification I\nmust now endeavor to make plain.  Art, in so far as it is a means of\nrepresentation, deals either with physical nature, as in landscape and\nfigure painting, or with types and incidents of human life, as in\ndramatic painting and in the greater part of poetry.  In either case it\nmay, like thought, either reflect or distort the structure of reality.\nNow the real structure of human life is moral; consisting only in a\nvariety of instances of the one law that _the wages of sin is death_.\nTo represent life otherwise is to falsify it, precisely as to represent\nbodies without solidity and gravity is to falsify physical nature.  But\nin representing physical nature art does not, as science does, {206}\nformulate merely its geometrical or dynamical skeleton; to do so would\nbe contrary to the intent of art to represent things in their\nperceptual concreteness.  Similarly art does not represent abstract\nvirtues.  Nevertheless, if it is not to depart from the truth art must,\nat the same time that it conveys the color and vividness of life, also\nconform to its proper laws, and demonstrate the consequences of action\nas they are.  And the same standard of clearness and fidelity, which\nrequires that great art shall reveal nature as it is, not to the\nsuperficial or imitative observer but to the thoughtful and penetrating\nmind, requires also that it shall throw into relief the profounder and\nmore universal forces of life.\n\nGreat art, therefore, is of necessity enlightening.  But it is possible\nthat untruth should parade in the dress and under the auspices of art,\nand so work to the confusion of the moral consciousness.  If art were\nonly realistic in the full sense, an unequivocal representation of the\nlaws of life, it would invariably justify and support the moral will;\nit would be idealistic.  It is the art of desultory and irresponsible\nfancy that is a source of danger.  There is a species of romantic art\nthat is guarded by its very excess of fantasy; it being impossible to\nmistake it for a representation of life.  But where romantic art is not\nthus clear in its motive, it becomes what is called \"sensational\" {207}\nart, in which the wages of sin are not paid; in which imprudence,\ninfidelity, and a mean ambition are made to yield success, freedom, and\nglorious achievement.  The realities are violated, with the consequence\nthat resolve is weakened and the intelligence bewildered.\n\nSince art may be true or untrue, it may also be universal or\nparticular, profound or superficial, in its apprehension of reality.\nThis difference has operated to define a scale of importance in art, so\nfar as the interest of society is concerned.  There is at least a\nmeasure of truth in Taine's graduated scale by which he estimates the\ngreatness of art according as it represents the fashion of the day, the\ntype of the generation, the type of the age, the type of the race, or\nman himself in his immutable nature.[18]  That art will be the most\neffective instrument of moral enlightenment which reflects the\nexperience of mankind in the basal and constant virtues, giving quality\nand distinction to truths which might otherwise suffer from their very\nhomeliness and familiarity.\n\nThere is a kindred consideration to which Tolstoy, undiscerning as he\nis in most of his criticism of art, has very justly called attention.\nIn the broad sense, art is liable to untruth from reflecting\nexclusively the bias of a certain temperament.  The following\ndescription {208} of a class of contemporary dramas is not wholly inapt:\n\n\nThey either represent an architect, who for some reason has not\nfulfilled his former high resolves and in consequence of this climbs on\nthe roof of a house built by him and from there flies down headlong; or\nsome incomprehensible old woman, who raises rats and for some unknown\nreason takes a poetic child to the sea and there drowns it; or some\nblind people, who, sitting at the sea-shore, for some reason all the\ntime repeat one and the same thing; or a bell which flies into a lake\nand there keeps ringing.[19]\n\n\nThat a tendency to cultivate acquaintance with the curious and rare,\nand communicate it to a narrow group of initiated persons, is\ncharacteristic of modern times, and that on the whole it is a symptom\nof decadence, Tolstoy has, I believe, proved.  At any rate, the effect\nof such a tendency in art can not fail to be morally injurious, since\nlife is not represented proportionately.  Art has much to do with the\nvogue and prestige of ideas.  Thus, for example, though the\nproblem-play may be faithful to life where it deals with life, if the\nstage be given over wholly to this form of drama, there will almost\ninevitably result a false conception of the degree to which the\nincidents selected are representative of social conditions on the whole.\n\nThere is one further source of moral error in connection with this\nfunction of art.  Because art can not only fix ideas but also make them\n{209} alluring, it may invest them with a fictitious value.  I refer to\nwhat is only a different aspect of that sentimentalism or chronic\nemotionalism to which I have already called attention.  Not only is it\npossible that men should be brought through the aesthetic interest to\nreplace action with emotion; they may also persuade themselves that the\nhigher principles of life owe their validity to some quality that is\ndiscerned immediately in the apprehension of them.  But purpose,\njustice, and good-will are essentially principles of organization;\ntheir virtue is their provident working.  To regard them only as images\nwith a value inhering in their bare essence, is to forfeit their\nbenefits.  Verbalism, formalism, mysticism, are given a certain false\ncharm and semblance of self-sufficiency by the cultivation and exercise\nof the aesthetic interest.  Hence morality and religion must here\nresist its enticements, and never cease to remind themselves that\ntheirs is the task of acknowledging all interests according to their\nreal inwardness, and of banishing cruelty and blindness in their behalf.\n\n\nVIII\n\nFinally, art serves to _liberalize_ life, to make it expansive and\ngenerous in spirit.  This is possible because, in the first place, art\nis unworldly.  I mean simply that the enjoyment of beauty is not {210}\na part of ambition; that it does not call into play those habits of\ncalculation and forms of skill that conduce to success in livelihood or\nthe gaining of any of the proximate ends of organized social life.  It\nfrees the mind from its harness and turns it out to pasture.  I suppose\nthat every one has had that experience of spiritual refreshment which\noccasionally comes when one has gone body and soul _out of doors_, or\nwhen one is delivered over to the enchantment of sober and elevating\nmusic, and suddenly made aware of the better things that have been long\nforgotten.  Such experiences are a moral inspiration.  It is as though,\nthe clamor of the world being for the moment shut out, one hears at\nlast the voices that speak with authority.  For an instant the broad\nsweep of truth flashes upon eyes that have been too intently watchful\nof affairs near at hand.  The good-will can be sustained only by a mind\nthat now and then withdraws itself from its engagements, and expands\nits view to the full measure of life.  For the momentary inhibiting of\nthe narrower practical impulses, and the evoking of this quiet and\ncontemplative mood, the love of nature and the love of art are the most\nreliable means.\n\nBut art promotes liberality of spirit in an even more definitely moral\nsense.  For art, like all forms of culture, and like the service of\nhumanity, {211} provides for the highest type of social intercourse.\nThe aesthetic interest is one of those rare interests which are common\nto all men without being competitive.  All men require bread, but since\nthis interest requires exclusive possession of its objects, its very\ncommonness is a source of suspicion and enmity.  Similarly all men\nrequire truth and beauty and civilization, but these objects are\nenhanced by the fact that all may rejoice in them without their being\ndivided or becoming the property of any man.  They bring men together\nwithout rivalry and intrigue, in a spirit of good-fellowship.\n\"Culture,\" says Matthew Arnold, \"is not satisfied till we _all_ come to\na perfect man; it knows that the sweetness and light of the few must be\nimperfect until the raw and unkindled masses of humanity are touched\nwith sweetness and light.\"\n\n\n'This,' he continues, 'is the _social idea_; and the men of culture are\nthe true apostles of equality.  The great men of culture are those who\nhave had a passion for diffusing, for making prevail, for carrying from\none end of society to the other, the best knowledge, the best ideas of\ntheir time; who have labored to divest knowledge of all that was harsh,\nuncouth, difficult, abstract, professional, exclusive; to humanize it,\nto make it efficient outside the clique of the cultivated and learned,\nyet still remaining the _best_ knowledge and thought of the time, and a\ntrue source, therefore, of sweetness and light.'[20]\n\n\n{212}\n\nArt, both in the creation and in the enjoyment of it, is thus true to\nthe deepest motive of morality.  It is a remoulding of nature to the\nend that all may live, and that they may live abundantly.\n\n\nIX\n\nI have sought to place before you what art may contribute to life.  It\nwill have become plain that while art is the natural and powerful ally\nof morality, it does not itself provide any guarantee of proper\ncontrol; in the interests of goodness, on the whole, no man can\nsurrender himself to it utterly.  The good-will is not proved until, as\nPlato said, it is _tried with enchantments_, and found to be strong and\ntrue.  Goodness can not be cast upon a man like a spell; it is a work\nof rational organization, and can not be had without discipline,\nefficiency, and service.  But it is for art to surround life with fit\nauspices; to create an environment that reflects and forecasts its best\nachievements, thus both making a home for it and confirming its\nresolves.\n\nHaving modelled this moral criticism of art upon the method of Plato, I\nshall conclude with his familiar summary of all the wisdom and\neloquence that there is in the matter:\n\n\nLet our artists rather be those who are gifted to discern the true\nnature of beauty and grace; then will our youth dwell in the land of\nhealth, amid fair sights {213} and sounds; and beauty, the effluence of\nfair works, will visit the eye and ear, like a healthful breeze from a\npurer region, and insensibly draw the soul even in childhood into\nharmony with the beauty of reason.[21]\n\n\n\n\n{214}\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHE MORAL JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION[1]\n\nIt is generally agreed that religion is either the paramount issue or the\nmost serious obstacle to progress.  To its devotees religion is of\noverwhelming importance; to unbelievers it is, in the phrasing of Burke,\n\"superstitious folly, enthusiastical nonsense, and holy tyranny.\"  The\ndifference between the friends and the enemies of religion may, I think,\nbe resolved as follows:\n\nReligion recognizes some final arbitration of human destiny; it is a\nlively awareness of the fact that, while man proposes, it is only within\ncertain narrow limits that he can dispose his own plans.  His nicest\nadjustments and most ardent longings are overruled; he knows that until\nhe can discount or conciliate that which commands his fortunes his\ncondition is precarious and miserable.  And through his eagerness to save\nhimself he leaps to conclusions that are uncritical and premature.\nIrreligion, on the other hand, flourishes among those who are more snugly\nintrenched {215} within the cities of man.  It is a product of\ncivilization.  Comfortably housed as he is, and enjoying an artificial\nillumination behind drawn blinds, the irreligious man has the heart to\ncriticise the hasty speculations and abject fear of those who stand\nwithout in the presence of the surrounding darkness.  In other words,\nreligion is perpetually on the exposed side of civilization, sensitive to\nthe blasts that blow from the surrounding universe; while irreligion is\nin the lee of civilization, with enough remove from danger to foster a\nrefined concern for logic and personal liberty.  There is a sense, then,\nin which both religion and irreligion are to be justified.  If religion\nis guilty of unreason, irreligion is guilty of apathy.  For without doubt\nthe situation of the individual man is broadly such as religion conceives\nit to be.  There is nothing that he can build, nor any precaution that he\ncan take, that weighs appreciably in the balance against the powers which\ndecree good and ill fortune, catastrophe and triumph, life and death.\nHence to be without fear is the part of folly.  Behold, the fear of the\nLord, that is wisdom.\n\nReligion is man's recognition of the overruling control of his fortunes.\nIt is neither metaphysical nor mythical, but urgently practical.\nPrimeval chaos, Chronos, the father of Zeus, and the long line of\nspeculative Absolutes have no {216} worshippers because they take no hand\nin man's affairs.  They may be neglected with impunity.  But not so the\ngods who send health and sickness, fertility and death, victory and\ndefeat; or He who sits in judgment on the last day to determine the doom\nof eternity.  Religion is the manifestation of supreme concern for life,\nan alertness to the remotest threat of danger and promise of hope.  A\ncertain momentousness attaches to all the affairs of religion, because\neverything is at stake.  Its dealings are with the last court of appeal,\nin behalf of the most indispensable good.\n\nIn form, religion is a case of _belief_; that is, of settled conviction.\nThere is no religion until some interpretation of life, some\naccommodation between man and God, has been so far accepted as to be\nunhesitatingly practised.  The absurdity of doubt in matters of religion\nhas been pointed out in the well-known parody, \"O God, if there be a God,\nsave my soul, if I have a soul.\"  The quality of religion lies not in the\nentertaining of a speculative hypothesis, but in an assurance so\nconfident that its object is not only thought but enacted.  God is not\nGod until his unquestioned existence is assimilated to life.  Indeed, it\nis conceivable that an object thus made the basis of action should still\nremain theoretically doubtful.  To Fontenelle is attributed the remark\nthat he \"did not believe in ghosts, but was afraid of {217} them.\"  This\nis a paradox until we distinguish theoretical and practical conviction;\nthen it becomes not only credible but commonplace.  If one prays to God,\nit is not necessary for the purposes of religion that one should, in\nFontenelle's sense, believe in him.  But I prefer to use the term\n\"belief\" more strictly, to connote such assent as expresses itself, not\nin a deliberate judgment made conformable to one's intellectual\nconscience, but in fear, love, and purpose, in habitual imagery, in any\nattitude or activity that spontaneously and freely presupposes the object\nwith which it deals.\n\nBy conceiving religion as belief we may understand not only its air of\ncertainty, but also the variety of its forms and agencies.  Belief sits\nat the centre of life and qualifies all its manifestations.  Hence the\nfutility of attempting to associate religion exclusively with any single\nfunction of man.  The guises in which religious belief may appear are as\nmultiform as human nature, and will vary with every shading of mood and\ntemperament.  Its central objects may be thought, imagined, or dealt\nwith--in short, responded to in all the divers ways, internal and overt,\nthat the powers and occasions of life define.\n\nThis will suffice, I trust, to lay the general topic of religion before\nus.  I shall employ the terms and phrases which I have formulated as a\n{218} working definition: _Religion is belief on the part of individuals\nor communities concerning the final or overruling control of their\ninterests_.[2]  I propose from this point to keep in the forefront of the\ndiscussion the standards whereby religion is to be estimated, and\napproved or condemned.  On what grounds may a religion be criticised?\nWhat would constitute the proof of an absolute religion?  History is\nstrewn with discredited religions; men began to quarrel over religion so\nsoon as they had any; and it is customary for every religious devotee to\nbelieve jealously and exclusively.  There can be no doubt, then, that\nreligion is subject to justification; it remains to distinguish the tests\nwhich may with propriety be applied, and in particular to isolate and\nemphasize the moral test.\n\n\nII\n\nIn the first place, let me mention briefly a test which it is customary\nto apply, but which is not so much an estimate as it is a measure.  I\nrefer to the various respects in which an individual or community may be\nsaid to be _more_ or _less_ religious.  Thus, for example, certain\nreligious phenomena surpass others in acuteness or intensity.  This is\npeculiarly true of the phenomena manifested in conversion and in\nrevivals.  In this respect the mysteries of the ancients exceeded {219}\ntheir regular public worship.  Individuals and communities vary in the\ndegree to which they are capable of enthusiasm, excitement, or ecstasy.\n\nOr a religion may be measured extensively.  He whose religion is constant\nand uniform is more religious than he whose observance is confined to the\nSabbath day, or he whose concern in the matter appears only in time of\ntrouble or at the approach of death.  This test may best be summed up in\nterms of consistency.  Religion may vary in the degree to which it\npervades the various activities of life.  That religion is confined and\nsmall which manifests itself only in words or public deeds or emotions\nexclusively.  If it is to be effective it must be systematic, so\nthoroughly adopted as to be cumulative and progressive.  It must engage\nevery activity, qualify all thought and imagination, in short, infuse the\nwhole of life with its saving grace.\n\nIt is clear, however, that a measure of religion does not constitute\neither proof or disproof.  If a religion be good or true, or on like\ngrounds accredited, then the more of it the better.  But differences of\ndegree appear in all religions.  Indeed, the quantitative test has been\nmost adequately met by forms of religion the warrant of which is\ngenerally held to be highly questionable.  We may, therefore, dismiss\nthis test without further consideration.  The application of it must be\n{220} based upon a prior and more fundamental justification.\n\nThere is one test of religion which has been universally applied by\nbelievers and critics alike, a test which, I think, will shortly appear\nto deserve precedence over all others.  I refer to the test of truth.\nEvery religion has been justified to its believers and recommended to\nunbelievers on grounds of evidence.  It has been verified in its working,\nor attested by either observation, reflection, revelation, or authority.\n\nIn spite of the general assent which this proposition will doubtless\ncommand, it is deserving of special emphasis at the present time.\nStudents of religion have latterly shifted attention from its claims to\ntruth to its utility and subjective form.  This pragmatic and\npsychological study of religion has created no little confusion of mind\nconcerning its real meaning, and obscured that which is after all its\nessential claim--the claim, namely, to offer an illumination of life.\nReligious belief, like all belief, is reducible to judgments.  These\njudgments are not, it is true, explicit and theoretically formulated; but\nthey are none the less answerable to evidence from that context of\nexperience to which they refer.  It is true that the believer's assurance\nis not consciously rational, but it is none the less liable before the\ncourt of reason.  Cardinal Newman {221} fairly expressed the difference\nbetween the method of religion and the method of science when he said\nthat \"ten thousand difficulties do not make one doubt,\" that \"difficulty\nand doubt are incommensurate.\" [3]  Nevertheless, the difficulties are in\neach case germane; and the fact that every article of faith has its\nbesetting doubt is proof that the thorough justification of faith\nrequires the settlement of theoretical difficulties.\n\nNo religion can survive the demonstration of its untruth; for salvation,\nwhether present or eternal, depends on processes actually operative in\nthe environment.  Religion must reveal the undeniable situation and\nprepare man for it.  It must charge the unbeliever with being guilty of\nfolly, with deceiving himself through failing to see and take heed.\nEvery religious propaganda is a cry of warning, putting men on their\nguard against invisible dangers; or a promise of succor, bringing glad\ntidings of great joy.  And its prophecy is empty and trivial if the\ndanger or the succor can be shown to be unreal.  The one unfailing bias\nin life is the bias for disillusionment, springing from the organic\ninstinct for that real environment to which, whether friendly or hostile,\nit must adapt itself.  Every man knows in his heart that he can not be\nsaved through being deceived.  Illusions can not endure, and those who\nlightly perpetrate them are fortunate {222} if they escape the resentment\nand swift vengeance which overtook the prophets of Baal.\n\nThe grounds of religious truth will require prolonged consideration; but\nbefore discussing them further let me first mention a test of religion\nwhich belongs to the class of psychological and pragmatic tests to which\nI have just alluded, but which has latterly assumed special prominence.\nThough realizing that I use a somewhat disparaging term, I suggest that\nwe call this the \"therapeutic test.\"  It has been proved that the state\nof piety possesses a direct curative value through its capacity to\nexhilarate or pacify, according to the needs of a disordered mind.  As a\npotent form of suggestion, it lends itself to the uses of psychiatry; it\nmay be medicinally employed as a tonic, stimulant, or sedative.\n\nNow we can afford to remind ourselves that, at least from the point of\nview of the patient, this use of religion bears a striking resemblance to\ncertain primitive practices in which God was conceived as a glorified\nmedicine-man, and the healing of the body strangely confused with\nspiritual regeneration.  Bishop Gregory of Tours once addressed the\nfollowing apostrophe to the worshipful St. Martin: \"O unspeakable\ntheriac! ineffable pigment! admirable antidote! celestial purgative!\nsuperior to all the skill of physicians, more fragrant than aromatic\ndrugs, stronger than {223} all ointments combined! thou cleanest the\nbowels as well as scammony, and the lungs as well as hyssop; thou\ncleanest the head as well as camomile!\" [4]\n\nIt is true that religion is in these days recommended for more subtle\ndisorders; but even religious ecstasy may be virtually equivalent to a\nmere state of emotional exhilaration, or piety to a condition of mental\nand moral stupor.  What does it profit a man to be content with his lot,\nor to experience the rapture of the saints, if he has lost his soul?  The\nsaving of a soul is a much more serious matter than the cessation of\nworry or the curing of insomnia, or even than the acquiring of a habit of\ndelirious joy.  Tranquillity and happiness are, it is true, the\nlegitimate fruits of religion, but only provided they be infused with\ngoodness and truth.  If religion is to be a spiritual tonic, and not\nmerely a physical tonic, it must be based on moral organization and\nintellectual enlightenment.  I do not doubt that religion has in all\ntimes recommended itself to men mainly through its contributing to their\nlives a certain peculiar buoyancy and peace.  There is such a generic\nvalue in religion, which can not be attributed wholly to any of its\ncomponent parts.  But, like the intensity or extent of religion, this may\nmanifest itself upon all levels of development.  _Sound_ piety, a\ntranquillity and happiness {224} which mark the soul's real salvation,\nmust be founded on truth, on an interpretation of life which expresses\nthe fullest light.  Again, then, we are referred to the test of truth for\nthe fundamental justification of religion.  There is a generic value\nwhich is deserving of the last word, but that word can be said only after\na rigorous examination of the more fundamental values from which it is\nderived.\n\nReligious truth is divisible into two judgments, involved in every\nreligious belief, and answerable respectively to _ethical_ and\n_cosmological_ evidence.  Since religion is a belief concerning the\noverruling control of human interests, it involves on the one hand a\nsumming up of these interests, a conception of what the believer has at\nstake, in short, an ethical judgment; and on the other hand, an\ninterpretation of the environment at large, in other words, a\ncosmological judgment.  Religion construes the practical situation in its\ntotality; which means that it generalizes concerning the content of\nfortune, or the good, and the sources of fortune, or nature.  Both\nfactors are invariably present, and no religion can escape criticism on\nthis twofold ground.\n\nThe ethical implications of religion are peculiarly far-reaching, since\nthey determine not only its conception of man, but also, in part, its\nconception of God.  This is due to the fact that {225} the term \"God\"\nsignifies not the environment in its inherent nature, but the environment\nin its bearing on the worshipper's interests.  It follows that whether\nGod be construed as favorable or hostile will depend upon the\nworshipper's conception of these interests.  Thus, for example, if\nworldly success or long life be regarded as the values most eagerly to be\nconserved, God must be feared as cruel or capricious; whereas, if the\nlesson of discipline and humility be conceived as the highest good, it\nmay be reasonable to trust the providence of God without any change in\nits manifestation.\n\nFurthermore, as we shall shortly have occasion to remark, it is\ncharacteristic of religion to insist, so far as possible, upon the\nfavorableness of the environment.  But this favorableness must be\nconstrued in terms of what are held to be man's highest interests.\nConsequently, the disposition and motive of God always reflect human\npurposes.  This is the main source of the inevitable anthropomorphism of\nreligion.\n\nConceptions of nature, on the other hand, define the degree to which the\nenvironment is morally determined, and the unity or plurality of its\ncauses.  Animism, for example, reflects the general opinion that the\ncauses of natural events are wilful rather than mechanical.  Such an\nopinion obtained at the time when no sharp {226} distinction was made\nbetween inorganic and organic phenomena, the action of the environment\nbeing conceived as a play of impulses.\n\nReligion is corrected, then, by light obtained from these sources: man's\nknowledge of his highest interests, and his knowledge of nature.  As a\nrule, one or the other of these two methods of criticism tends to\npredominate, in accordance with the genius of the race or period.  Thus,\nthe evolution of Greek religion is determined mainly by the development\nof science.  Xenophanes attacks the religion of his times on the ground\nof its crude anthropomorphism.  \"Mortals,\" he says, \"think that the gods\nare born as they are, and have perception like theirs, and voice and\nform.\"  But this naive opinion Xenophanes corrects because it is not\nconsistent with the new enlightenment concerning the _arche_, or first\nprinciple of nature.  \"And he [God] abideth ever in the same place,\nmoving not at all; nor doth it befit him to go about, now hither, now\nthither.\" [5]\n\nIn a later age Lucretius criticised the whole system of Greek religion in\nterms of the atomistic and mechanical cosmology of Epicurus:\n\n\nFor verily not by design did the first-beginnings of things station\nthemselves each in its right place guided by keen intelligence, nor did\nthey bargain sooth to say what motions each should assume; but because\nmany in number and shifting about in many ways throughout the universe\nthey are driven and {227} tormented by blows during infinite time past,\nafter trying motions and unions of every kind at length they fall into\narrangements such as those out of which this our sum of things has been\nformed.[6]\n\n\nIn the light of such principles Lucretius demonstrates the absurdity of\nhoping or fearing anything from a world beyond or a life to come.  In\nthis case, as in the case above, the religion of enlightenment does not\ndiffer essentially from the religion of the average man in its conception\nof the interests at stake, but only in its conception of the methods of\nworship or forms of imagery which it is reasonable to employ in view of\nthe actual nature of the environment.\n\nIf, on the other hand, we turn to the early development of the Hebrew\nreligion, we find that it is corrected to meet the demands not of\ncosmological but of ethical enlightenment.  No question arises as to the\nexistence or power of God, but only as to what he requires of those who\nserve him.  The prophets represent the moral genius of the race, its\nacute discernment of the causes of social integrity or decay.  \"And when\nye spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes from you: yea, when ye\nmake many prayers, I will not hear: your hands are full of blood.  Wash\nyou, make you clean; put away the evil of your doings from before mine\neyes; cease to do evil: learn to do well; seek judgment, relieve {228}\nthe oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow.\" [7]\n\nBut whichever of these two methods of criticism predominates, it is clear\nthat they both draw upon bodies of truth which grow independently of\nreligion.  The history of Christianity affords a most remarkable record\nof the continual adjustment of religious belief to secular rationality.\nThe offices of religion have availed no more to justify cruelty,\nintolerance, and bigotry than to establish the Ptolemaic astronomy or the\nScriptural account of creation.  This is more readily admitted in the\ncase of natural science than in the case of ethics, but only because\nteachers of religion have commonly had a more expert acquaintance with\nmoral matters than with the orbits of the planets or the natural history\nof the earth.\n\nFor the principles of conduct, like the principles of nature, must be\nderived from a study of the field to which they are applied.  They\nrequire nothing more for their establishment than the analysis and\ngeneralization of the moral situation.  If two or more persons conduct\nthemselves with reference to one another and to an external object, their\naction either possesses or lacks, in some degree, that specific value\nwhich we call moral goodness.  And by the principles of ethics we mean\nthe principles which truly define and explicate this value.  Now neither\nthe truth nor {229} the falsity of any religion affects these fundamental\nand essential conditions.  If the teachings of religion be accepted as\ntrue, then certain factors may be added to the concrete practical\nsituation; but if so, these fall within the field of morality and must be\nsubmitted to ethical principles.  Thus, if there be a God whose\npersonality permits of reciprocal social relations with man, then man\nought, in the moral sense, to be prudent with reference to him, and may\nreasonably demand justice or good-will at his hands.\n\nBut the mere existence of a God, whatever be his nature, can neither\ninvalidate nor establish the ethical principles of prudence, justice, and\ngood-will.  Were a God whose existence is proved, to recommend injustice,\nthis would not affect in the slightest degree the moral obligation to be\njust.  Moral revelation stands upon precisely the same footing as\nrevelation in the sphere of theoretical truth: its acceptance can be\njustified only through its being confirmed by experience or reason.  In\nother words, it is the office of revelation to reveal truth, but not to\nestablish it.  In consequence of this fact it may even be necessary that\na man should redeem the truth in defiance of what he takes to be the\ndisposition of God.  Neither individual conscience nor the moral judgment\nof mankind can be superseded or modified save through a higher insight\nwhich these may {230} themselves be brought to confirm.  Whatever a man\nmay think of God, if he continues to live in the midst of his fellows, he\nplaces himself within the jurisdiction of the laws which obtain there.\nMorality is the method of reconciling and fulfilling the interests of\nbeings having the capacity to conduct themselves rationally, and ethics\nis the formulation of the general principles which underlie this method.\nThe attempt to live rationally--and, humanly speaking, there is no\nalternative save the total abnegation of life--brings one within the\njurisdiction of these principles, precisely as thinking brings one within\nthe jurisdiction of the principles of logic, or as the moving of one's\nbody brings one within the jurisdiction of the principles of mechanics.\n\nReligion, then, mediates an enlightenment which it does not of itself\noriginate.  In religious belief the truth which is derived from a\nstudious observation of nature and the cumulative experience of life, is\nheightened and vivified.  Like all belief religion is conservative, and\nrightly so.  But in the long run, steadily and inevitably, it responds to\nevery forward step which man is enabled to take through the exercise of\nhis natural cognitive powers.  Only so does religion serve its real\npurpose of benefiting life by expanding its horizon and defining its\ncourse.\n\nI have hitherto left out of account a certain {231} stress or insistence\nthat must now be recognized as fundamental in religious development.\nThis I shall call _the optimistic bias_.  This bias is not accidental or\narbitrary, but significant of the fact that religion, like morality,\nsprings from the same motive as life itself, and makes towards the same\ngoal of fruition and abundance.  Life is essentially interest, and\ninterest is essentially positive or provident; fear is incidental to\nhope, and hate to love.  Man seeks to know the worst only in order that\nhe may avoid or counterwork it in the furtherance of his interests.\nReligion is the result of man's search for support in the last extremity.\nThis is true, even when men are largely preoccupied with the mere\nstruggle for existence.  It appears more and more plainly as life becomes\naggressive, and is engaged in the constructive enterprise of\ncivilization.  Religion expresses man's highest hope of attainment,\nwhether this be conceived as the efficacy of a fetich or the kingdom of\nGod.\n\nSuch, then, are the general facts of religion, and the fundamental\ncritical principles which justify and define its development.  Religion\nis man's belief in salvation, his confident appeal to the overruling\ncontrol of his ultimate fortunes.  The reconstruction of religious belief\nis made necessary whenever it fails to express the last verified truth,\ncosmological or ethical.  The {232} direction of religious development is\nthus a resultant of two forces: the optimistic bias, or the saving hope\nof life; and rational criticism, or the progressive revelation of the\nprinciples which define life and its environment.\n\nI shall proceed now to the consideration of types of religion which\nillustrate this critical reconstruction.  The types which I shall select\nrepresent certain forms of inadequacy which I think it important to\ndistinguish.  They are only roughly historical, as is necessarily the\ncase, since all religions represent different types in the various stages\nof their development, and in the different interpretations which are put\non them in any given time by various classes of believers.  I shall\nconsider in turn, using the terms in a manner to be precisely indicated\nas we proceed, _superstition, tutelary religion_, and two forms of\n_philosophical religion_, the one _metaphysical idealism_, and the other\n_moral idealism_.\n\n\nIII\n\n_Superstition_ is distinguished by a lack of organization both in man and\nhis environment.  It is a direct cross-relationship between an elementary\ninterest, passion, or need, and some isolated and capricious natural\npower.  The deity is externally related to the worshipper, having private\ninterests of his own which the worshipper respects {233} only from\nmotives of prudence.  Religious observance takes the form of barter or\npropitiation--_do ut des, do ut abeas_.  The method of superstition is\narbitrary, furthermore, in that it is defined only by the liking or\naversion of an unprincipled agency.\n\nLet us consider briefly the type of superstition which is associated with\nthe most primitive stage in the development of society.[8]  The\nworshipper has neither raised nor answered the ethical question as to\nwhat is his greatest good.  Indeed, he is much more concerned to meet the\npressing needs of life than he is to co-ordinate them or understand to\nwhat they lead.  He can not even be said to be actuated by the principle\nof rational self-interest.  Like the brute, whose lot is similar to his\nown, he feels his wants severally, and is forced to meet them as they\narise or be trampled under foot in the struggle for existence.  There is\nlittle co-ordination of his interests beyond that which is provided for\nin the organic and social structure with which nature has endowed him.\nOver and above the instinct of self-preservation he recognizes in custom\nthe principle of tribal or racial solidarity.  But this is proof, not so\nmuch of a recognition of community of interest, as of the vagueness of\nhis ideas concerning the boundaries of his own self-hood.  The very fact\nthat his interests are scattering and loosely knit prevents him from\nclearly {234} distinguishing his own.  He readily identifies himself not\nonly with his body, but with his clothing, his habitation, and various\ntrinkets which have been accidentally associated with his life.  It is\nonly natural that he should similarly identify himself with those other\nbeings like himself with whom he is connected by the bonds of blood and\nof intimate contact.  Morally, then, primitive man is an indefinite and\nincoherent aggregate of interests which have not yet assumed the form\neven of individual and community purpose.\n\nTo turn to the second, or cosmological, component, we find that primitive\nman's conception of ultimate powers is like his conception of his own\ninterests in being both indefinite and incoherent.  In consequence of the\ndaily vicissitudes of his fortune, he is well aware that he is affected\nfor better or for worse by agencies which fall outside the more familiar\nroutine operations of society and nature.  So great is the disproportion\nbetween the calculable and the incalculable elements of his life that he\nis like a man crouching in the dark, expecting a blow from any quarter.\nThe agencies whose working can be discounted in advance form his secular\nworld; but this world is narrow and meagre, and is overshadowed by a\nbeyond which is both mysterious and terrible.  Of the world beyond he has\nno single comprehensive idea, but he acknowledges it in his {235}\nexpectation of the injuries and benefits which he may at any time receive\nfrom it.  It is an abyss whose depths he has never sounded, but which he\nis forced practically to recognize, since he is at the mercy of forces\nwhich emanate from it.\n\nThe method of primitive religion is the inevitable sequel.  In behalf of\nthe interests which represent him man must here, as ever, make the best\nterms he can with the powers which beset him.  He has no concern with\nthese powers except the desire to propitiate them.  He has no knowledge\nof their working excepting as respects their bearing upon his interests.\nObeying a law of human nature which is as valid now as then, he seeks for\nremedies whose proof is the cure which they effect.  Let the association\nbetween a certain action on his own part and a favorable turn in the tide\nof fortune once be established, and the subsequent course of events will\nseem to confirm it.  Coincidences are remembered and exceptions\nforgotten.  Furthermore, his belief in the effectual working of the\nestablished plan is always justified by the difficulty of proving any\nother alternative plan to be better.\n\nBut, in order to understand superstition, it is not necessary to\nreconstruct the earliest period in the history of society, nor even to\nstudy contemporary savage life, for the superstitious intelligence and\nthe superstitious method survive {236} in every stage of development.\nThey appear, for example, in mediaeval Christianity; in Clovis's appeal\nto Christ on the battle-field: \"Clotilda says that Thou art the Son of\nthe living God, and that Thou dost give victory to those who put their\ntrust in Thee.  I have besought my gods, but they give me no aid.  I see\nwell that their strength is naught.  I beseech Thee, and I will believe\nin Thee, only save me from the hands of mine enemies.\"  The same period\nis represented by the petition attributed to St. Eloi, \"Give, Lord, since\nwe have given!  _Da, Domine, quia dedimus!_\" [9]  In modern life the\nmotive of superstition pervades almost all worship, appearing in sundry\nexpectations of special favor to be gained by service or importunity.\n\nThe application of critical enlightenment to this type of religion has\nalready been made with general consent.  It is recognized that morally\nsuperstition represents the merely prudential level of life.  It bespeaks\na state of panic or a narrow regard for isolated needs and desires.\nFurthermore, it tends to emphasize these considerations and at the same\ntime degrade the object of worship through claiming the attention of God\nin their behalf.  The deity is conceived, not under the form of a broad\nand consecutive purpose, but under the form of a casual and desultory\ngood-nature.\n\n{237}\n\nBut superstition has been corrected mainly by the advancement of\nscientific knowledge.  Science has pronounced finally against the belief\nin localized or isolated natural processes.  Whether the mechanical\ntheory be accepted or not, its method is beyond question, in so far as it\ndefines laws and brings all events and phenomena under their control.  In\nthe dealings of nature there can be no favoritism, no special\ndispensations, no bargaining over the counter.\n\n\nIV\n\nThe correction of superstition brings us to our second type, which I have\nchosen to call _tutelary religion_.  It is distinguished by the fact that\nlife is organized into a definite purpose, which, although still narrow\nand partisan with reference to humanity at large, nevertheless embraces\nand subordinates the manifold desires of a community.  The deity\nrepresents this purpose in the cosmos at large, and rallies the forces of\nnature to its support.  He is no longer capricious, but is possessed of a\ncharacter defined by systematic devotion to an end.  His ways are the\nways of effectiveness.  Furthermore, since his aims are identical with\nthose of his worshippers, he is now loved and served for himself.  It\nfollows that he will demand of his followers only conformity to those\nrules which define the realization of the {238} common aim, and that\nthese rules will be enforced by the community as the conditions of its\nsecular well-being.  Ritual is no longer arbitrary, but is based on an\nenlightened knowledge of ways and means.\n\nWhile this type of religion is clearly present in the most primitive\ntribal worship, it is best exemplified when a racial or national purpose\nmanifests itself aggressively and self-consciously, as in the cases of\nancient Assyria and Egypt.  Here God is identified with the kingship,\nboth being symbols of nationality.  Among the Assyrians the national\npurpose was predominantly one of military aggrandizement.  Istar\ncommunicates to Esar-haddon this promise of support: \"Fear not, O\nEsar-haddon; the breath of inspiration which speaks to thee is spoken by\nme, and I conceal it not. . . .  I am the mighty mistress, Istar of\nArbela, who have put thine enemies to flight before thy feet.  Where are\nthe words which I speak unto thee, that thou hast not believed\nthem? . . .  I am Istar of Arbela; in front of thee and at thy side do I\nmarch.  Fear not, thou art in the midst of those that can heal thee; I am\nin the midst of thy host.\" [10]\n\nEgyptian nationality was identified rather with the principles of\nagriculture and political organization.  The deity is the fertilizing\nNile, or the judge of right conduct.  There is recorded in {239} the\n_Book of the Dead_ the pleading of a soul before Osiris, in which the\ncommands of the god are thus identified with the conditions of national\nwelfare:\n\n\n  I have not committed fraud and evil against men.\n  I have not diverted justice in the judgment hall.\n  I have not known meanness.\n  I have not caused a man to do more than his day's work.\n  I have not caused a slave to be ill treated by his overseer.\n  I have not committed murder.\n  I have not spoiled the bread of offering in the temple.\n  I have not added to the weight of the balance.\n  I have not taken milk from the mouths of children.\n  I have not turned aside the water at the time of inundation.\n  I have not cut off an arm of the river in its course.[11]\n\n\nSimilar illustrations might be drawn from the nationalistic phase of\nHebraism.  The same principle appears in mediaeval Christianity, and is\nthus embodied in the prologue of the Salic Law, \"Long live the Christ,\nwho loves the Franks.\"  In more recent times one might point to the\nChristianity of the Puritan revolution, not wholly misrepresented by the\nmaxim popularly attributed to Cromwell, \"Put your trust in God and keep\nyour powder dry,\" or in Poor Richard's observation that \"God helps them\nthat help themselves.\"\n\nSuch is the religion of nationalism, {240} sectarianism, of sustained but\nnarrow purpose.  I shall not attempt to formulate exhaustively the ideas\nthrough which this religion has been corrected.  It is clear that its\ndefect lies in its partisanship.  All forms of partisanship yield slowly\nbut inevitably to the higher conception of social solidarity.  Such\nenlightenment reflects a recognition of community of interest, and a\nwidening of sympathy through intercourse and acquaintance.  Tutelary\nreligion, in short, is corrected through the validity of the ethical\nprinciples of justice and good-will.  The cosmological correction of this\ntype of religion is due to the same enlightenment that discredits\nsuperstition, a knowledge, namely, of the systematic unity of the cosmos.\nThe laws of nature are as indifferent to private purposes as they are to\nprivate desires, and whether these be personal or social in their scope.\nFurthermore, the universality of God is recognized in principle in the\nrules of worship.  For a god of war or agriculture or politics can not be\nprivately appropriated.  If the observance of the principles proper to\nthese institutions brings success to one, it brings success to all.  In\nshort, a god of nationality must be a god of all nations.\n\n\n{241}\n\nV\n\nThe correction of tutelary religion brings us at length to a type which\nmay be said to be formally enlightened.  Both components of belief, the\nethical and the cosmological, are universalized.  I shall call this type,\nin its general form, _philosophical religion_, since it recognizes the\nunities which systematic reflection defines.  It recognizes, on the one\nhand, the summing up of life in a universal ideal, and on the other hand,\na summing up of the total environment in some scientifically formulated\ngeneralization.  It affirms the priority of justice and good-will over\nparty interest, and the determination of the world without reference to\nspecial privilege.  Religion is now the issue between the good--the\nhighest good, the good of all--and the undivided cosmos.\n\nWithin the limits of philosophical religion thus broadly defined there is\nyet provision for almost endless variety of belief.  Religions may still\ndiffer in tradition, symbolism, and ritual.  They may differ as moral\ncodes and sentiments differ, and reflect all shades of opinion as this is\ndetermined by discovery and criticism.\n\nBut I propose to confine myself to a difference which is at once the most\nbroad and fundamental, and the most clearly defined in contemporary\ncontroversy.  This difference relates to neither {242} ethics nor\ncosmology exclusively, but to the religious judgment itself in which\nthese two are united.  How is the universe in its entirety to be\nconstrued with reference to the good?  In both of the answers which I\npropose to consider it is claimed that goodness in some sense possesses\nthe world.  Hence both may be called _idealisms_.  But in one of these\nanswers, which I shall call _metaphysical idealism_, the cosmological\nmotive receives the greater emphasis.  The good is construed in terms of\nbeing; and, in order that it may be absolutely identified therewith, its\noriginal nature must, if necessary, be compromised.  In the other, the\n_moral_ motive predominates.  It is held that goodness must not lose its\nmeaning, even if it be necessary that its claims upon the cosmos should\nbe somewhat abated.\n\n_Metaphysical idealism_ is the extreme form of the optimistic bias.  It\nprovides a moral individual with a sense of proprietorship in the\nuniverse; it justifies him in the belief that the moral victory has been\nwon from all eternity.  Goodness is held to be the very essence and\ncondition of being.\n\nLet me briefly state the inherent difficulty in this philosophy of\nreligion.  Being is judged to be identical with good.  But the world of\nexperience is not good; it must therefore be condemned as unreal.  Of\nwhat, then, do goodness and being consist?  If an empty formalism is\n{243} to be avoided, the all-good-and-all-real must be restored to the\nworld of experience.  But as the all-real it can not consistently be\nidentified with only a part of that world; and if it be identified with\nthe whole, its all-goodness contradicts the moral distinction within the\nworld of experience, between good and evil.  The theory is now confronted\nwith the opposite danger, that of materialism, or moral promiscuousness.\nLet me illustrate this full swing of the pendulum from formalism to\nmaterialism by briefly summarizing certain well-known types of religious\nphilosophy.\n\nAt the formalistic extreme stands the Buddhistic _pessimism_,[12]\nwhich rests on a recognition of the inevitable taint of this world,\nof the implication of evil in life.  To avoid this taint, the\nall-real-and-all-good must be freed even from existence.  It can be\nconceived and attained only by denial.  Nirvana is at once the all-real,\nthe all-good, and--in terms of the existent world--nothing.\n\n_Other-worldliness_ is the Christian modification of the Oriental\nphilosophy of illusion.  Heaven is a world beyond, to be exchanged for\nthis.  It is not constituted by the denial of this world, as is Nirvana,\nbut access to it is conditioned by such denial.  It is goodness and\nhappiness hypostasized, and offered as compensation for martyrdom.  But\nsince every natural impulse and source {244} of satisfaction must be\nrepudiated, it remains a purely formal conception, except in so far as\nthe worldly imagination unlawfully prefigures it.  Rigorously construed,\nit consists only in obedience, a willing of God's will, whatever that may\nbe.\n\n_Mysticism_,[13] which appears as a motive in all religions of this type,\ndefines the all-real-and-all-good in terms of the consummation of a\nprogression, certain intermediate stages of which constitute man's\npresent activities.  In Brahmanism, God is the perfect unity, which may\nbe approximated by dwelling on identities and ignoring differences; in\nPlatonism, God is the good-for-all, which may be approximated by dwelling\nexclusively upon the utilities and fitness of things.  The absolute world\nstill remains beyond this world and excludes it, although a hint of its\nactual nature may now be obtained.  But there at once appears a\nformidable difficulty.  So long as the absolute world is wholly separated\nfrom this world, and therefore purely formal, evil need not be imputed to\nit; but at the moment when it is conceived by completing and perfecting\ncertain processes belonging to this world, it is committed to these\nprocesses with all their implications, and tends to be usurped by them.\nIn other words, heaven, in so far as it obtains meaning, grows worldly.\n\nIn the conception which may be termed _panlogism_, {245} heaven is boldly\nremoved to earth.  It is identified with laws or other universals, that\nlie within the scope of human intelligence and control the course of\nnature.  God is now immanent rather than transcendent; he has obtained a\ncertain definable content.  But the difficulty which has already appeared\nin mysticism now grows more formidable.  How can it be said that a being\nthat coincides with the known laws of nature works only good?  Among the\nStoics the attempt was made to conceive all necessities as somehow\n\"beneficial,\" as somehow good in the commonly accepted sense of the\nterm.[14]  But even the Stoics found themselves compelled to abandon the\ncommon conception of goodness.  And in Spinoza the motive of panlogism is\nclear and uncompromising.[15]  God as the immanent order of the world is\ngood only in that he is necessary--good only in so far as he satisfies\nthe logical interest and enables the mind to understand.  In panlogism,\nthen, we find metaphysical idealism already compelled in behalf of its\ncardinal principle to deny the moral consciousness.  But this is not all.\nFor even were it to be admitted that mere system and order constitute the\ngood, wholly without reference to their bearing on the concerns of life,\nthe fact remains that even such a good does not fairly represent the\ncharacter of this world.  For experience conveys not only law, {246} but\nalso irrelevance and chaos; not only harmony but also discord.\n\nTo meet this last difficulty, and at the same time better to provide for\nthe complexity of human interests, metaphysical idealism finally assumes\nthe _aesthetic_ form.  The absolute world, the all-real-and-all-good, is\nboldly construed in terms of the historical process itself, with all its\nconcreteness and immediacy.  Endless detail, contrast, and even\ncontradiction may be brought under the form of aesthetic value.  The very\nflux of experience, the very struggles and defeats of life, are not\nwithout their picturesqueness and dramatic quality.  Upon this romantic\nlove of tumult and privation is founded the last of all metaphysical\nidealisms.[16]  A strange sequel to the doctrine of despair with which\nour brief survey began!\n\nI can only recapitulate most briefly the characteristic limitations of an\naesthetic idealism.  First, in spite of the fact that aesthetic value may\nbe extraordinarily comprehensive in its content, as a value it is none\nthe less narrow and exclusive.  For in order that experience may have\naesthetic value, an aesthetic interest must be taken in it.  And even\nwere all experience to satisfy some such interest, this would in no wise\nprovide for the endless variety of non-aesthetic interests that are also\ntaken in it.  Thus, were it to be proved that life on the whole is\npicturesque, this {247} would in no way affect the fact that it is also\npainful, stultifying, and otherwise abounding in evil.\n\nBut, even if it were to be granted that aesthetic value embraces and\nsubordinates all other values, this higher value would still exist only\nwhere such an aesthetic interest was actually fulfilled.  If it were\nassumed that the totality of the world is pleasing in the sight of God,\nthis would in no way affect the fact that it is otherwise in the eyes of\nmen.  Those who furnish a spectacle which has dramatic value for an\nobserver do not necessarily themselves share in that value.  It is an\nincontrovertible fact that the aesthetic interests of men are actually\ndefeated; and this whether or no some other aesthetic interest--that, for\nexample, of a divine onlooker--is fulfilled.\n\nBut the radical defect of this aesthetic philosophy of religion lies in\nits absolute discrediting of moral distinctions.  Optimism has so far\noverreached itself as to sacrifice the very meaning of goodness.  In\norder that the ideal may possess the world, it has been reduced to the\nworld.  God is no more than a name for the unmitigated reality.  Like\nHardy's Spirit of the Years, he is the mere affirmation of things as they\nare:\n\n      \"I view, not urge; nor more than mark\n  What designate your titles Good and Ill.\n  'Tis not in me to feel with, or against,\n  These flesh-hinged mannikins Its hand upwinds\n  {248}\n  To click-clack off Its preadjusted laws;\n  But only through my centuries to behold\n  Their aspects, and their movements, and their mould.\" [17]\n\nMorally, there could be no more sinister interpretation of life.  It\noffers itself as a philosophy of hope, promising the lover of good that\nhis purpose shall be fulfilled, nay, that it is fulfilled from all\neternity.  But when the pledge is redeemed, it is found to stipulate that\nthe good shall mean only life as it is already possessed.  In other\nwords, man is promised what he wants if he will agree to want what he\nhas.  This is worse than a sorry jest.  It is a philosophy of moral\ndissolution, discrediting every downright judgment of good and evil,\nremoving the grounds upon which is based every single-minded endeavor to\npurify and consummate life.  John Davidson says: \"Irony integrates good\nand evil, the constituents of the universe.  It is that\nBeyond-Good-and-Evil which somebody clamoured for.\" [18]  Irony is indeed\nthe last refuge of that uncompromising optimism that equates goodness and\nbeing.\n\n\nVI\n\nBut the bankruptcy of metaphysical idealism does not end the matter.\nThere is another idealism in which religious faith both confirms moral\nendeavor and gives it the incentive of hope.  This {249} idealism\nestablishes itself upon an unequivocal acceptance of moral truth.  It\ncalls good good and evil evil, with all the finality which attaches to\nthe human experience of these things, leaving no room for compromise.\nIts faith lies in the expectation that the world shall become good\nthrough the elimination of evil; it manifests itself in the resolution to\nhasten that time.  God is loved for the enemies he has made.  Evil is\nhated without reservation as none of his doing, and man is free to\nreverence the Lord his God with all his heart.\n\nFrom the stand-point of _moral idealism_ the universe resumes something\nof its pristine ruggedness and grandeur.  If, as James says, \"the world\nappears as something more epic than dramatic,\" the dignity of life is\nenhanced and not diminished on that account.[19]  Life is not a spiritual\nexercise the results of which are discounted in advance; but is actually\ncreative, fashioning and perfecting a good that has never been.  And the\nmoment evil is conceived as the necessary but diminishing complement to\npartial success, the sting of it is gone.  Evil as a temporary and\naccidental necessity is tolerable; but not so an evil which is absolutely\nnecessary, and which must be construed with some hypothetical divine\nsatisfaction.\n\nThis in no way contradicts the fact that the {250} fullest life under\npresent conditions involves contact with evil.  Innocence must be tragic\nif it is not to be weak.  Jesus without the cross would possess something\nof that quality of unreality which attaches to Aristotle's high-minded\nman.  But this does not prove that life involves evil; it proves only\nthat life will be narrow and complacent when it is out of touch with\nthings as they are.  Since evil is now real, he who altogether escapes it\nis ignorant and idle, taking no hand in the real work to be done.  Not to\nfeel pain when pain abounds, not to bear some share of the burden, is\nindeed cause for shame.  In that remarkable allegory, \"The Man Who Was\nThursday,\" Chesterton has most vividly presented this truth.  In the last\nconfrontation, the real anarchist, the spokesman of Satan, accuses the\nfriends of order of being happy, of having been protected from suffering.\nBut the philosopher, who has hitherto been unable to understand the\ndespair to which he and his companions have been driven, repels this\nslander.\n\n\n'I see everything,' he cried, 'everything that there is.  Why does each\nthing on the earth war against each other thing?  Why does each small\nthing in the world have to fight against the world itself? . . .  So that\neach thing that obeys law may have the glory and isolation of the\nanarchist.  So that each man fighting for order may be as brave and good\na man as the dynamiter.  So that the real lie of Satan may be {251} flung\nback in the face of this blasphemer, so that by tears and torture we may\nearn the right to say to this man, \"You lie!\"  No agonies can be too\ngreat to buy the right to say to this accuser, \"We also have suffered.\"\n\n'It is not true that we have never been broken.  We have been broken upon\nthe wheel. . . .  We have descended into hell.  We were complaining of\nunforgettable miseries even at the very moment when this man entered\ninsolently to accuse us of happiness.  I repel the slander; we have not\nbeen happy.'[20]\n\n\nBut the charge of happiness is to be repelled as a slander only because\nthere are real sufferers in the world to make the charge.  It is, after\nall, not happiness but insensibility which is the real disgrace.  If the\nsuffering is real, not to see it, not to feel it, not to heal it, is\nintolerable.  To say, however, that suffering is wilfully caused in order\nthat it may eventually contribute to an ultimate reconciliation, is to\ncharge God with something worse than complacency.  If life is a real\ntragedy it can be endured, and to enter into it will bring the deep\nsatisfaction which every form of heroism affords.  But if the tragedy of\nlife be preconceived and wilfully perpetrated, it must be resented for\nthe sake of self-respect.  Even man possesses a dignity which is not\nconsistent with puppetry and mock heroics.\n\nMoral idealism means to interpret life consistently with ethical,\nscientific, and metaphysical truth.  It endeavors to justify the maximum\nof {252} hope, without compromising or confusing any enlightened judgment\nof truth.  In this it is, I think, not only consistent with the spirit of\na liberal and rational age, but also with the primary motive of religion.\nThere can be no religion with reservations, fearful of increasing light.\nNo man can do the work of religion without an open and candid mind as\nwell as an indomitable purpose.\n\nI can not here elaborate the evidence upon which moral idealism is\ngrounded; but it might be broadly classified as ethical, cosmological,\nand historical.  The ethical ground of moral idealism is the virtual\nunity of life, the working therein of one eventual purpose sustained by\nthe good-will of all moral beings.  The cosmological proof lies in the\nmoral fruitfulness and plasticity of nature.  The historical proof lies\nin the fact of moral progress, in the advent and steady betterment of\nlife.\n\n\nVII\n\nIn conclusion I wish to revert to the topic of the generic proof of\nreligion.  We have defined the tests which any special religion must\nmeet, and unless conformably to such tests it is possible to justify some\nform of idealism, it is clear that the full possibilities of religion as\na source of strength and consolation must fail to be realized.  But it\nmay now be affirmed that there is a moral {253} value in religion which\nis independent of the cosmological considerations which prove or disprove\na special religion.  No scientific or metaphysical evidence can\ncontrovert the fact that man is engaged in an enterprise which\ncomprehends all the actualities and possibilities of life, and that the\nsuccess of this enterprise is conditioned, in the end, on the compliance\nof the universe.  A summing up of the situation as involving these two\nfactors is morally inevitable.  Some solution of the problem, assimilated\nand enacted, in other words, some form of piety, is no more than the last\nstage of moral growth.\n\nThe value of religious belief, in this generic moral sense, consists in\nthe enlargement of the circle of life.  Man knows the best and the worst;\nhe walks in the open, apprehending the world in its full sweep and just\nproportions.  An inclusive view of the universe, whatever it may reveal,\nthrows into relief the lot of man.  Religion promulgates the idea of life\nas a whole, and composes and proportions its activities with reference to\ntheir ultimate end.  Religion advocates not the virtues in their\nseveralty, but the whole moral enterprise.  With this it affiliates all\nthe sundry activities of life, thus bringing both action and thought\nunder the form of service of the ideal.  At the same time it offers a\nsupreme object for the passions, which are otherwise divided against\n{254} themselves, or vented upon unworthy and fantastical objects.\nThrough being thus economized and guided, these moving energies may be\nbrought to support moral endeavor and bear it with them in their current.\n\nPiety carries with it also that sense of high resolve without which life\nmust be haunted with a sense of ignominy.  This is the immediate value of\nthe good-will: the full deliverance of one's self to the cause of\ngoodness.  This value is independent of attainment.  It is that _doing of\none's best_, which is the least that one can do.  Having sped one's\naction with good-will, one can only leave the outcome to the confluence\nand summing of like forces.  But such service is blessed both in the\neventualities and in a present harmony as well.  The good of\nparticipation in the greatest and most worthy enterprise is proved in its\nlending fruitfulness, dignity, and momentousness to action; but also in\nits infusing the individual life with that ardor and tenderness which is\ncalled the love of humanity and of God, and which is the only form of\nhappiness that fully measures up to the awakened moral consciousness.\n\nSince religion emphasizes the unity of life and supplies it with meaning\nand dignity, it is the function of religion to kindle moral enthusiasm in\nsociety at large.  Religion is responsible for the {255} prestige of\nmorality.  As an institution, it is the appointed guardian and medium of\nthat supreme value which is hidden from the world; of that finality\nwhich, in the course of human affairs, is so easily lost to view and so\ninfrequently proved.  It is therefore the function of the religious\nleader to make men lovers, not of the parts, but of the whole of\ngoodness.  Embarrassed by their very plenitude of life, men require to\nhave the good-will that is in them aroused and put in control.  This,\nthen, is the work of religion: to strike home to the moral nature itself,\nand to induce in men a keener and more vivid realization of their latent\npreference for the higher over the lower values.  This office requires\nfor its fulfilment a constructive moral imagination, a power to arouse\nand direct the contagious emotions, and the use of the means of\npersonality and ritual for the creation of a sweetening and uplifting\nenvironment.\n\nIn culture and religion human life is brought to the elevation which is\nproper to it.  They are both forms of discipline through which is\ninculcated that quality of magnanimity and service which is the mark of\nspiritual maturity.  But while culture is essentially contemplative,\nfar-seeing, sensitive, and tolerant, religion is more stirring and vital.\nBoth are love of perfection, but culture is admiration; religion,\nconcern.  {256} \"Not he that saith Lord, Lord, but he that doeth the will\nof his Father, shall be saved.\"  In religion the old note of fear is\nalways present.  It is a perpetual watchfulness lest the work of life be\nundone, or lest a chance for the best be forfeited.\n\n\n\n\n{257}\n\nNOTES\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n[1] Joseph Butler: _Sermon VII_, edited by Gladstone, p. 114.  _Cf._\nalso _Sermon X_, on Self-Deceit.\n\n[2] Nietsche: _Beyond Good and Evil_, translated by Helen Zimmern, p.\n174.\n\n[3] Edmund Burke: _A Vindication of Natural Society_, Preface, pp. 4,\n5.  (Boston, 1806.)\n\n[4] The classic discussion of the whole matter is to be found in\nAristotle's _Nicomachean Ethics_, Book I, Chapters I-VI, translated by\nJ. E. C. Welldon.  _Cf._ also Fr. Paulsen: _System of Ethics_, Book II,\nChapters I, II, translated by Frank Thilly; G. H. Palmer: _The Nature\nof Goodness_, Chapters I, II; and W. James: _The Moral Philosopher and\nthe Moral Life_, in his _Will to Believe_.\n\n[5] The issue is presented clearly and briefly in Paulsen: _Op. cit._,\nBook II, Chapter II, and in James's _Principles of Psychology_, Vol.\nII, pp. 549-559.\n\n[6] Nietsche: _Op. cit._, p. 107.\n\n[7] Huxley: _Evolution and Ethics and Other Essays_, pp. 81-82.  The\nfirst two essays contained in this volume, the _Prolegomena_, and the\n_Romanes Lecture_, contain a very interesting study of the relation of\nmorality to nature.\n\n[8] Huxley: _Op. cit._, p. 13.\n\n[9] G. K. Chesterton: _Napoleon of Notting Hill_, p. 291.  The whole\nbook is a brilliant satire, intended to show that all of the heroic\nsentiments and virtues depend on war and local pride.\n\n[10] Nietsche: _Op. cit._, pp. 59, 163, 176, 223, 235, 237, 122.\n\n[11] Chesterton: _Heretics_, and _Orthodoxy_.\n\n[12] Plato: _Protagoras_, p. 322 (marginal pagination), and _passim_;\ntranslated by Jowett.\n\n{258}\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n[1] Locke: _The Conduct of the Understanding_, Bohn's Library Edition,\nVol. I, p. 72; also, _passim_.\n\n[2] Locke: _Op. cit._, p. 56.\n\n[3] Descartes: _Discourse on Method_, translated by Veitch, pp. 13-14.\nAlso, _passim_.\n\n[4] Spinoza: _The Improvement of the Understanding_, translated by\nElwes, Vol. II, p. 4.\n\n[5] _Cf._ Plato's _Republic_, Books V-VII, _passim_.\n\n[6] For further discussion of the meaning of duty, _cf._ Kant's\n_Critical Examination of the Practical Reason_, Book I, Chapter III,\ntranslated in Abbott's _Kant's Theory of Ethics_, p. 164; Bradley's\n_Ethical Studies_, Essays II and V; and Sidgwick's _Methods of Ethics_,\nBook I, Chapter III.\n\n[7] Chesterton: _Napoleon of Notting Hill_, p. 162.\n\n[8] G. E. Moore: _Principia Ethica_, Chapter III, Sect. 58-63.\n\n[9] Locke: _Op. cit._, p. 29.\n\n[10] There is an excellent account of the questions that lie on the\nborder between ethics and jurisprudence in S. E. Mezes's _Ethics,\nDescriptive and Explanatory_, Chapter XIII.\n\n[11] Kant: _Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals_,\ntranslated in Abbott's _Kant's Theory of Ethics_, p. 47.\n\n[12] H. G. Lord: _The Abuse of Abstraction in Ethics_, in _Essays\nPhilosophical and Psychological in Honor of William James_, pp. 376-377.\n\n[13] John Davidson: _A Rosary_, pp. 77, 82.\n\n[14] Maurice Maeterlinck: _The Measure of the Hours_, translated by A.\nT. de Mattos, p. 151.  The essay in this volume, entitled \"Our Anxious\nMorality,\" charges rationalism with destroying the romantic and\nmystical element in life.\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n[1] A good discussion of the several virtues will be found in Paulsen:\n_Op. cit._, Book III.\n\n[2] W. H. S. Jones: _Greek Morality_, p. 50.\n\n[3] Jeremy Taylor: _Rules and Exercises of Holy Living_, edited by Ezra\nAbbot, p. 73.\n\n[4] Jones: _Op. cit._, p. 124.\n\n{259}\n\n[5] Count Baldesar Castiglione: _The Book of the Courtier_, translated\nby Opdycke, p. 250.\n\n[6] _Cf._ Hobbes: _Leviathan_, Chapters XIII, XIV, XV.  In Hobbes's\naccount, morality is reduced wholly to the prudential economy.\n\n[7] H. G. Wells: First and Last Things, p. 82.\n\n[8] Castiglione: _Op. cit._, p. 257.\n\n[9] Burke: _Op. cit._, p. 8.\n\n[10] Epictetus: _Discourses_, Book III, Chapter XXII, translated by\nLong, Vol. II, pp. 82, 83.\n\n[11] Taylor: _Op. cit._, p. 7.\n\n[12] Epictetus: _Op. cit._, Book II, Chapter XXI, translated by Long,\nVol. I, p. 229.\n\n[13] _Cf._ Hegel: _Philosophy of Right_, Third Part, Third Section,\ntranslated by S. W. Dyde; and _Philosophy of History_, Introduction,\ntranslated by J. Sibree.\n\n[14] _Cf._ Plato's _Republic_, _passim_, but especially Book IV.  Plato\nmakes the state analogous to the individual organism, requiring baser\nclasses that shall permanently supply its lower functions, as well as\nclasses that shall supply its higher functions and so participate in\nits full benefits.\n\n[15] Aristotle: _Politics_, Book II, Chapter V, translated by Jowett,\np. 35.  _Cf._ also Chapter II.\n\n[16] Epictetus: _Op. cit._, Book II, Chapter XV, translated by Long,\nVol. I, p. 189.\n\n[17] Sophocles: _Antigone_, translated by G. H. Palmer, pp. 61, 62.\n\n[18] Munro and Sellery: _Medieval Civilization_, pp. 349-350.\n\n[19] Castiglione: _Op. cit._, p. 261.\n\n[20] Quoted from Diog. Laert. by Jones, _Op. cit._, p. 69.  For a full\naccount, _cf._ Aristotle's _Nicomachean Ethics_, Books VIII and IX,\ntranslated by Welldon, pp. 245-314.\n\n[21] Walter Bagehot: _Physics and Politics_, No. V, in the edition of\nthe International Scientific Series, pp. 165-166.  _Cf._ this chapter\n_passim_.\n\n[22] Matthew Arnold: _Culture and Anarchy_, p. 100.\n\n[23] Quoted by Jones: _Op. cit._, p. 128.\n\n[24] Ibid.\n\n[25] Arnold: _Op. cit._, pp. 25-26.  _Cf. passim_.\n\n[26] Euripides: _Medea_, translated by Gilbert Murray, pp. 67-68.\n\n{260}\n\n[27] _Cf., e. g._, Aristotle, _Nicomachean Ethics_, Book X.  Also J. A.\nFarrer's _Paganism and Christianity, passim_; and Paulsen, _op. cit._,\nBook I, Chapters I-III.\n\n[28] Sir Thomas Browne; _Religio Medici_, edited by J. M. Dent & Co.,\np. 97.\n\n[29] W. James: _Pragmatism_, p. 230.\n\n[30] Browne: _Op. cit._, pp. 118-119.\n\n[31] _Ibid._, p. 110.\n\n[32] Castiglione: _Op. cit._, pp. 304-305.\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n[1] The nearest approach to such a philosophy of history is George\nSantayana's Life of Reason.  The reader will find it the best book of\nreference for this and the following chapter.  _Cf._ also, Samuel\nAlexander's Moral Order and Progress.\n\n[2] Bagehot: _Op. cit._, No. VI, pp. 208-209.\n\n[3] _Ibid._, p. 161.\n\n[4] Nietsche: _Op. cit._, pp. 65-66.\n\n[5] For a general ethical discussion of the function of government,\n_cf._ Santayana: _Reason in Society_, Chapters III-VIII.\n\n[6] Sophocles: _Antigone_, translated by Palmer, pp. 60, 63-64.\n\n[7] 1 Samuel, Chapter VIII.\n\n[8] Quoted in Taine's _Philosophy of Art in Greece_, translated by J.\nDurand, p. 130.\n\n[9] Thucydides: _Peloponnesian War_, Book II, Chapters 37-40,\ntranslated by Jowett, pp. 117-119.\n\n[10] Plato: _Republic_, Book IV, p. 433, translated by Jowett.\n\n[11] Burke: Op. cit., p. 43.\n\n[12] For a brief statement of the elements of political science in\ntheir application to modern institutions, _cf._ E. Jenks: _A History of\nPolitics_.\n\n[12] Arnold: _The Future of Liberalism_, in the volume, _Mixed Essays,\nIrish Essays and Others_, p. 383.  _Cf._ also the admirable essay on\nDemocracy in the same volume.\n\n[14] Plato: _Republic_, Book I, p. 335, translated by Jowett.\n\n[15] Wells: _Op. cit._, pp. 130-131.\n\n\n{261}\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n[1] A good account of the meaning of art is to be found in Santayana's\n_Reason in Art_, Chapters I-III.\n\n[2] For this whole topic of the aesthetic interest, _cf._ H. R.\nMarshall's _Pleasure, Pain, and Aesthetics_.\n\n[3] For an interpretation of painting in terms of the perceptual\nprocess, _cf._ B. Berenson's _Florentine Painters of the Renaissance_,\npp. 1-16; and _North Italian Painters of the Renaissance_, pp. 145-157.\n\n[4] The best account of the emotions and instincts is to be found in\nJames's _Principles of Psychology_, Vol. II, Chapters XXIV, XXV.\n\n[5] Walter Pater: _The Renaissance_, p. 140.\n\n[6] Taine: _Op. cit._, pp. 112, 114-115, and _passim_.\n\n[7] Pater: _Op. cit._, pp. 129-130; _cf._ the chapter on _Leonardo da\nVinci_, entire.\n\n[8] Plato: _Republic_, Book III, p. 398, translated by Jowett.  The\nwhole of Books III and X are interesting in this connection.\n\n[9] In connection with the general topic of the moral criticism of art,\n_cf._ Santayana's _Reason in Art_, Chapters IX-XI; also Ruskin's\n_Lectures on Art_, Lectures II-IV.\n\n[10] Aristotle: _Nicomachean Ethics_, Book X.\n\n[11] _Cf._ the _Republic_, Book X.\n\n[12] Arthur Benson: _Beside Still Waters_, pp. 138-139.  _Cf._ also pp.\n143-144.\n\n[13] Pater: _Op. cit._, pp. 249, 250; _cf._ the Conclusion, passim.\n\n[14] James: _Op. cit._, Vol. I, pp. 125-126.\n\n[15] _Republic_; Book X, p. 606, translated by Jowett.\n\n[16] _Ibid._, Book III, p. 399.\n\n[17] Aristotle: _Politics_, Book VIII, Chapter V, translated by Jowett,\np. 252.\n\n[18]  Taine: _The Ideal in Art_, translated by J. Durand, pp. 42 _sq._\n\n[19] Tolstoy: _What is Art?_  X, translated by Leo Wiener, p. 227.\n\n[20] Arnold: _Culture and Anarchy_, pp. 37, 38.  _Cf._ Chapter I,\n_passim_.\n\n[21] _Republic_, Book III, p. 401, translation by Jowett.\n\n\n{262}\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n[1] This chapter is reprinted from the _Harvard Theological Review_ for\nApril, 1909.\n\n[2] I have treated this matter more fully in my _Approach to\nPhilosophy_, Chapters III and IV.  At the close of that book the reader\nwill find a selected bibliography of the subject.\n\n[3] John Henry Newman: _Apologia pro Vita Sua_, p. 239.  The whole book\nis of interest in this connection.\n\n[4] Munro and Sellery: _Mediaeval Civilization_, p. 69.\n\n[5] _Fragments of Xenophanes_, in Burnet's _Early Greek Philosophy_, p.\n115.\n\n[6] Lucretius: _De Rerum Natura_, Book I, lines 1021-1028, translated\nby Munro.\n\n[7] _Isaiah_ 1:15-17.\n\n[8] For a brief account of primitive religion, _cf._ J. B. Pratt's\n_Psychology of Religious Belief_.  For a fuller account, _cf._ F. B.\nJevons's _Introduction to the History of Religion_.\n\n[9] Munro and Sellery: _Op. cit._, pp. 80, 75.\n\n[10] A. H. Sayce: _Babylonians and Assyrians_, p. 253.\n\n[11] A. Wiedemann: _Religion of the Ancient Egyptians_, p. 250.\n\n[12] _Cf._ H. C. Warren's _Buddhism in Translation_.\n\n[13] The reader will find a good exposition of mysticism in Royce's\n_World and the Individual_, First Series, Lectures II, IV, V.\n\n[14] _Cf., e. g._, _Epictetus_: Discourses, Book II, Chapter VIII.\n\n[15] _Cf._ Spinoza's Ethics, _passim_, translated by Elwes.\n\n[16] _Cf._ Royce's account of Romanticism and Hegel, in his _Spirit of\nModern Philosophy_, Lectures VI, VII.  This motive, together with the\nmotive of mysticism, appears in such writings as J. McT. E. McTaggart's\n_Studies in Hegelian Cosmology_, Chapter IX; and A. E. Taylor's\n_Problem of Conduct_, Chapter VIII.\n\n[17] Thomas Hardy: _The Dynasts_, Part I, p. 5.\n\n[18] John Davidson: _A Rosary_, p. 88.\n\n[19] James: _Pragmatism_, p. 144.  The whole chapter is a brilliant\nrepresentation of the stand-point of moral idealism.\n\n[20] G. K. Chesterton: _The Man Who Was Thursday_, pp. 278-279.\n\n\n\n\n{263}\n\nINDEX\n\n\n  Achievement, 79, 81, 97.\n  Adaptation, 22.\n  Aesthetic Interest, definition of, 179; varieties of, 181 _ff._,\n    189; moral limitation of, 190; sell-sufficiency of, 192;\n    exaggeration of, 192, 195, 198 _ff._; its pervasiveness,\n    194 _ff._; vicariousness of, 197; stimulating character\n    of, 201, 203 _ff._; liberality of, 209 _ff._;\n    in religion, 246 _ff._\n  Aimlessness, 94.\n  Anarchism, 107.\n  Aristotle, quoted, 100, 106, 192, 204.\n  Arnold, M., quoted, 108, 109, 112, 164, 211.\n  Art, moral criticism of, Ch. V;\n    its liability to moral criticism, 173 ff; definition of,\n    177; distinction between industrial and fine, 177 _ff._;\n    emotion in, 182 _ff._; representative function of, 185 _ff._,\n    203 _ff._; Greek, 185 _ff._; of Renaissance, 187;\n    censorship of, 190; stimulating character of, 201 _ff._;\n    truth in, 205 _ff._; universality and particularity of,\n    207 _ff._; and liberality, 209 _ff._; moral function of, 212.\n  Asceticism, 79, 81, 92 _ff._\n\n  Bagehot, quoted, 106, 127, 132.\n  Beauty, and goodness, 172 _ff._\n  Belief, and religion, 216, 220, 228.\n  Benson, A., quoted, 194.\n  Bigotry, 79, 81, 101 _ff._\n  Browne, Sir Thomas, quoted, 115, 117, 118.\n  Buddhism, 243.\n  Burke, quoted, 6, 92, 158, 214.\n  Butler, J., quoted, 1.\n\n  Castiglione, quoted, 89, 90, 119.\n  Character, 97.\n  Chesterton, G. K., 32; quoted, 28, 55, 250.\n  Christianity, 94, 111, 114 _ff._, 140, 158, 187, 228, 239, 243.\n  Civilization, 3, 6, 10, 23, 32, 124, 137, 167, 170, 215.  See\n    Progress.\n  Competition, 14, 129, 130; relation to morality, 24 _ff._\n  Conscience, 34, 36.  See Duty.\n  Conservatism, 144 _ff._\n  Convention, 36, 38 ff.\n  Cosmological, test of religion, 224, 225, 234, 237,\n    240, 241, 252.\n  Courage, 95.\n  Culture, 211, 253.  Chap. V, _passim_.\n  Cynics, the Greek, 92 _ff._, 137.\n\n  Davidson, J., quoted, 70, 248.\n  Democracy, 29, 39; modern idea of, 158 _ff._, 163 _ff._\n  Descartes, quoted, 35.\n  Desire, 11.  See Interest.\n  Discussion, 106, 132.\n  Dogmatism, 4.\n  Duty, Ch. II, 40, 72; formalism and, 76.\n\n  Egoism, theoretical, 59 _ff._; practical, 79, 81, 101.\n  Emotion, and art, 182 _ff._, 201 _ff._\n  Epictetus, quoted, 93, 96, 100.\n  Equality, 65, 66, 158 _ff._, 163 _ff._\n  Ethics, and history, 124; and religion, 224 _ff._, 233, 240,\n    241, 252; independence of, 228.  See Morality.\n  Euripides, quoted, 114.\n  Evil, 11, 15, 84, 86; religious conception of, 243 _ff._,\n    249 _ff._  See Good, Vice, Formalism, Materialism.\n\n  Faith, 33, 71.\n  Fine Art.  See Art.\n  Formalism, 74 _ff._, 92; and duty, 76, 77; varieties of,\n    79, 81, 92, 98, 107, 116, 209, 242.\n  Freedom, 36, 107, 164.\n\n  God, 216, 224 _ff._, 229, 232, 237, 240, 245, 249.\n  Good, basal definition of, 11 _ff._, 44; definition of moral,\n    15 _ff._; relativity of, 45 _ff._; relation to beautiful,\n    172 _ff._, 212.\n  Good-will, logic of, 67 _ff._; virtue of, 79, 81, 113 _ff._, 158.\n  Government, 14; progress in, 148 _ff._; Platonic theory of,\n    148; definition of, 150; ancient forms of, 152 _ff._;\n    summary of modern, 160 _ff._\n  Greece, morality of, 110, 114; government in, 154 _ff._; art\n    of, 185 _ff._, 204; religion of, 226.\n\n  Happiness, 18, 115, 116 _ff._\n  Hardy, T., quoted, 247.\n  Health, 79, 81, 88 _ff._\n  Hebrews, government of, 152; religion of, 227, 239.\n  Hedonism, 16.\n  History, meaning of, 123 _ff._\n  Hobbes, 89.\n  Honesty, 88.\n  Huxley, theory of morality and nature, 21 _ff._\n\n  Idealism, metaphysical, 242 _ff._; aesthetic, 246;\n    moral, 248 _ff._\n  Idleness, 94.\n  Imagination, 28, 69, 111.\n  Imprudence, 79, 81, 85 _ff._\n  Incapacity, 79, 81, 83.\n  Individualism, 34 _ff._\n  Injustice, 79, 81, 103.  See Justice.\n  Institutions, their necessity, 3, 147.  See Government.\n  Intelligence, 79, 81, 82 _ff._\n  Interest, definition of, 11, 43; organization of, 13, 14, 19,\n    variety of, 16, 17; the higher, 52; conflict of, 53;\n    objective validity of, 54; private, 57 _ff._; the\n    potential, 67, 68, 167; present and ulterior, 74 _ff._;\n    economies of, 78; simple, 78, 81, 82 _ff._; reciprocity\n    of, 78, 81, 87 _ff._, incorporation of, 78, 81, 95 _ff._;\n    fraternity of, 78, 81, 105 _ff._; universal system\n    of, 79, 81, 112 _ff._; and progress, 132; and reform, 137;\n    and revolution, 139; and government, 148 _ff._; the\n    aesthetic, 179; the theoretical, 180, 193; varieties of\n    the aesthetic, 181 _ff._  See Aesthetic Interest.\n\n  James, W., quoted, 116, 199, 249.\n  Justice, meanings of, 63, 79, 81, 105, 158, 163;\n    logic of, 63 _ff._\n\n  Kant, quoted, 64.\n\n  Laissez-faire, 108.\n  Liberality, 156; and art, 209.\n  Life, morality as the organization of, Ch. I; versus\n    mechanism, 10, 22; morality one with, 19, 27; method of, 23.\n  Locke, quoted, 34, 35, 62.\n  Logic, of the moral appeal, Ch. II; and the imagination, 69.\n  Lord, H. G., quoted, 69.\n  Lucretius, quoted, 226.\n\n  Maeterlinck, quoted, 71.\n  Manners, 121.\n  Materialism, 74 _ff._, 84; varieties of, 79, 81, 94, 101,\n    110, 243.\n  Mechanical Nature, 12; lack of value in, 9, 84; and\n    progress, 130.\n  Menander, quoted, 88.\n  Metaphysics and religion, 242 _ff._\n  Moderation, 87.\n  Moore, G. E., critique of egoism, 59 _ff._\n  Morality, as the organization of life, Ch. I; the dulness\n    of, 1; as verified truth, 7; its universal pertinence,\n    7 _ff._; essential to life, 9, 32; natural genesis of,\n    9 _ff._; basal definition of, 13; and nature, 20 _ff._;\n    and competition, 24 _ff._; the logic of, Ch. II; rational\n    ground of, 38, 40 _ff._; material and formal aspects of,\n    74 _ff._, 121; and progress, Ch. IV; and art, Ch. V; and\n    aesthetic standards, 172 _ff._; and religion, Ch. VI;\n    and idealism, 248 _ff._\n  Mysticism, 116, 244; and art, 208.\n\n  Nationalism, 99.\n  Nature, genesis of morality in, 9 _ff._; and morality,\n    20 _ff._; theories of, in religion, 224, 225, 234, 237, 240.\n  Newman, J. H., quoted, 220.\n  Nietsche, his conception of morality, 1, 5, 6, 20, 29 _ff._, 165.\n\n  Optimism, 230, 242, 247.\n  Other-worldliness, 115, 243.\n  Overindulgence, 79, 81, 84 _ff._\n\n  Panlogism, 244.\n  Pater, quoted, 185, 188; on the aesthetic interest, 196.\n  Patience, 95.\n  Pessimism, 114, 243.\n  Philosophy, of history, 123 _ff._; and religion, 241 _ff._\n  Piety, 67, 68, 120, 223, 253, 254.\n  Pity, 111, 163.\n  Plato, quoted, 32; individualism in, 37; nationalism in,\n    100; account of disinterested activity in, 135 _ff._;\n    theory of government in, 148; on art, 190, 193, 202, 212;\n    on religion, 244.\n  Pleasure, its relation to morality, 16 _ff._\n  Preference, 50; the quantitative principle of, 55 _ff._, 127.\n  Progress, moral test of, Ch. IV, 127; definition of, 125 _ff._;\n    principles of, 130 _ff._; by constructive reform, 134 _ff._;\n    by revolution, 139 _ff._\n  Prudence,  79, 81, logical ground of, 43 _ff._; limits of,\n    49, 88, 90, 91, 94; meaning of, 87 _ff._; basal character of,\n    91; in religion, 232.\n  Purpose, logic of, 50 _ff._; virtue of, 95 _ff._\n\n  Radicalism, 145 _ff._\n  Rationality, 37, 42, 65; and progress, 134, 142; in\n    government, 152.\n  Reform, 134 _ff._\n  Religion, 79, 81; and good-will, 113; mysticism in, 117; as an\n    institution, 148; and progress, 170; moral justification\n    of, Ch. VI; moral necessity of, 214 _ff._; definition\n    of, 215 _ff._; quantitative tests of, 218 _ff._;\n    psychological study of, 220; belief in, 216, 220; therapeutic\n    test of, 222 _ff._; superstitious, 232 _ff._; primitive,\n    233 _ff._; and ethics, 224 _ff._, 233, 240, 241, 252;\n    cosmological test of, 224, 225, 234, 237, 240, 241,\n    252; tutelary, 237 _ff._; Assyrian, 238; Egyptian, 238;\n    Hebrew, 227, 239; philosophical, 241 _ff._; generic\n    proof of, 252 _ff._  See Piety, Good-will, Worship and\n    Christianity.\n  Revolution, definition of, 139; the Christian, 140; the\n    French, 141.\n  Rightness, 18.  See Virtue.\n\n  Satisfaction, 11, 79, 81, 83.\n  Scepticism, 4 _ff._, 36, 108.\n  Sentimentalism, 98 _ff._, and art, 209.\n  Society, Chap. I, _passim_, 38; prudential basis of, 89;\n    character of modern, 39, 166; progress in, 126, 132;\n    continuity of, 143; and the aesthetic interest, 195, 211.\n  Sophocles, quoted, 102, 151.\n  Sordidness, 79, 81, 94.\n  Spinoza, quoted, 35.\n  Stoics, religion of, 245.  See Epictetus.\n  Struggle for existence, 30; its relation to morality, 21 _ff._;\n    its relation to progress, 130.\n  Superstition, 232 _ff._\n  Survival, 24, 131.\n\n  Tact, 88.\n  Taine, quoted, 185.\n  Taylor, J., quoted, 86, 94.\n  Temperance, 90.\n  Thrift, 68, 87.\n  Thucydides, quoted, 156.\n  Tolerance, 38, 105, 164.\n  Tolstoy, on art, 207.\n  Truth, of art, 205 _ff._; of religion, 220 _ff._\n  Truthfulness, 96.  See Veracity.\n  Tyranny, 36, 39, 151 _ff._\n\n  Value, the simpler terms of, 11, 82; definition of moral,\n    15; varieties of moral, 79, 81.\n  Veracity, 88, 96, 105.\n  Vice, varieties of, 79, 81.  See Virtue, Formalism, and\n    Materialism.\n  Virtue, the order of, Ch. III; verification of, 73;\n    varieties of, 73, 79; classification of, 73 _ff._; table\n    of, 81.  See under particular virtues, Prudence, etc.\n\n  War, and morality, 24 _ff._, 30; the passing of, 28, 162; and\n    progress, 131.\n  Wells, H. G., quoted, 89, 167.\n  Worldliness, 79, 81, 110 _ff._\n  Worship, 122, 232, 235, 237, 240.\n\n  Xenophanes, quoted, 326.","title":"The Moral Economy","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":64598}