{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_37016/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_37016","id":"gutenberg_37016","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37016","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Ethics"],"text":"</pre>\n\n\n\nProduced by Jana Srna, Bryan Ness and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  ELEMENTS OF MORALS:\n\n  WITH\n\n  SPECIAL APPLICATION OF THE MORAL LAW TO THE\n  DUTIES OF THE INDIVIDUAL AND OF\n  SOCIETY AND THE STATE.\n\n\n  BY PAUL JANET,\n\n  MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE, OF THE ACADEMY OF MORAL AND POLITICAL\n  SCIENCES, AUTHOR OF THEORY OF MORALS, HISTORY OF MORAL\n  AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, FINAL CAUSES, ETC., ETC.\n\n\n  TRANSLATED BY\n  MRS. C. R. CORSON.\n\n\n  A. S. BARNES & CO.,\n  NEW YORK AND CHICAGO\n\n\n\n_Copyright, 1884, by A. S. Barnes & Co._\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nThe _Elements de Morale_, by M. Paul Janet, which we here present to the\neducational world, translated from the latest edition, is, of all the\nworks of that distinguished moralist, the one best adapted to college and\nschool purposes. Its scholarly and methodical arrangement, its clear and\ndirect reasonings, its felicitous examples and illustrations, drawn with\nrare impartiality from the best ancient and modern writers, make of this\nstudy of Ethics, generally so unattractive to young students, one\nsingularly inviting. It is a system of morals, practical rather than\ntheoretical, setting forth man's duties and the application thereto of the\nmoral law. Starting with _Preliminary Notions_, M. Janet follows these up\nwith a general division of duties, establishes the general principles of\nsocial and individual morality, and chapter by chapter moves from duties\nto duties, developing each in all its ramifications with unerring\nclearness, decision, and completeness. Never before, perhaps, was this\ndifficult subject brought to the comprehension of the student with more\nconvincing certainty, and, at the same time, with more vivid and\nimpressive illustrations.\n\nThe position of M. Paul Janet is that of the _religious_ moralist.\n\n\"He supplies,\" says a writer in the _British Quarterly Review_,[1] in a\nnotice of his _Theory of Morals_, \"the very element to which Mr. Sully\ngives so little place. He cannot conceive morals without religion. Stated\nshortly, his position is, that moral good is founded upon a natural and\nessential good, and that the domains of good and of duty are absolutely\nequivalent. So far he would seem to follow Kant; but he differs from Kant\nin denying that there are indefinite duties: every duty, he holds, is\ndefinite as to its _form_; but it is either definite or indefinite as to\nits application. As religion is simply belief in the Divine goodness,\nmorality must by necessity lead to religion, and is like a flowerless\nplant if it fail to do so. He holds with Kant that _practical faith_ in\nthe existence of God is the postulate of the moral law. The two things\nexist or fall together.\"\n\nThis, as to M. Janet's position as a moralist; as to his manner of\ntreating his subject, the writer adds:\n\n\"... it is beyond our power to set forth, with approach to success, the\nadmirable series of reasonings and illustrations by which his positions\nare established and maintained.\"\n\nM. Janet's signal merit is the clearness and decision which he gives to\nthe main points of his subject, keeping them ever distinctly in view, and\nstrengthening and supplementing them by substantial and conclusive facts,\ndrawn from the best sources, framing, so to say, his idea in time-honored\nand irrefutable truths.\n\nThe law of duty thus made clear to the comprehension of the student,\ncannot fail to fix his attention; and between fixing the attention and\nstriking root, the difference is not very great.\n\nC. R. C.\n\n\n\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS.\n\n\n  CHAPTER                                                           PAGE\n\n     I.--Preliminary Notions                                           1\n\n    II.--Division of Duties.--General Principles of Social\n         Morality                                                     33\n\n   III.--Duties of Justice.--Duties toward Human Life                 50\n\n    IV.--Duties Concerning the Property of Others                     63\n\n     V.--Duties toward the Liberty and toward the Honor of\n         Others.--Justice, Distributive and Remunerative.--\n         Equity                                                       93\n\n    VI.--Duties of Charity and Self-Sacrifice                        111\n\n   VII.--Duties toward the State                                     139\n\n  VIII.--Professional Duties                                         157\n\n    IX.--Duties of Nations among themselves.--International Law      182\n\n     X.--Family Duties                                               190\n\n    XI.--Duties toward One's Self.--Duties relative to the Body      223\n\n   XII.--Duties relative to External Goods                           244\n\n  XIII.--Duties relative to the Intellect                            260\n\n   XIV.--Duties relative to the Will                                 281\n\n    XV.--Religious Morality.--Religious Rights and Duties            299\n\n   XVI.--Moral Medicine and Gymnastics                               315\n\n         Appendix to Chapter VIII                                    341\n\n\n\n\nELEMENTS OF MORALS.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nPRELIMINARY NOTIONS.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =Starting point of morals.=--Notions of common sense.\n\n    =Object and divisions of morals.=--Practical morality and theoretical\n    morality.\n\n    =Utility of morals.=--Morals are useful: 1, in protecting us against\n    the sophisms which combat them; 2, in fixing principles in the mind;\n    3, in teaching us to reflect upon the motives of our actions; 4, in\n    preparing us for the difficulties which may arise in practice.\n\n    =Short resume of theoretical morality.=--Pleasure and the good.--The\n    useful and the honest.--Duty.--Moral conscience and moral\n    sentiment.--Liberty.--Merit and demerit.--Moral responsibility.--Moral\n    sanction.\n\n\nAll sciences have for their starting-point certain elementary notions\nwhich are furnished them by the common experience of mankind. There would\nbe no arithmetic if men had not, as their wants increased, begun by\ncounting and calculating, and if they had not already had some ideas of\nnumbers, unity, fractions, etc.; neither would there be any geometry if\nthey had not also had ideas of the round, the square, the straight line.\nThe same is true of morals. They presuppose a certain number of notions\nexisting among all men, at least to some degree. Good and evil, duty and\nobligation, conscience, liberty and responsibility, virtue and vice,\nmerit and demerit, sanction, punishment and reward, are notions which the\nphilosopher has not invented, but which he has borrowed from common sense,\nto return them again cleared and deepened.\n\nLet us begin, then, by rapidly enumerating the elementary and common\nnotions, the analysis and elucidation of which is the object of moral\nscience, and explain the terms employed to express them.\n\n=1. Starting point of morals: common notions.=--All men distinguish the\n_good_ and the _bad_, _good_ actions and _bad_ actions. For instance, to\nlove one's parents, respect other people's property, to keep one's word,\netc., is right; to harm those who have done us no harm, to deceive and\nlie, to be ungrateful towards our benefactors, and unfaithful to our\nfriends, etc., is wrong.\n\nTo do right is _obligatory_ on every one--that is, it _should_ be done;\nwrong, on the contrary, _should_ be avoided. _Duty_ is that _law_ by which\nwe are held to do the right and avoid the wrong. It is also called the\n_moral law_. This law, like all laws, _commands_, _forbids_, and\n_permits_.\n\nHe who acts and is capable of doing the right and the wrong, and who\nconsequently is held to obey the moral law, is called a moral agent. In\norder that an agent may be held to obey a law, he must _know it and\nunderstand it_. In morals, as in legislation, _no one is supposed to be\nignorant of the law_. There is, then, in every man a certain knowledge of\nthe law, that is to say, a natural discernment of the right and the wrong.\nThis discernment is what is called conscience, or sometimes the _moral\nsense_.\n\nConscience is an act of the mind, a _judgment_. But it is not only the\nmind that is made aware of the right and the wrong: it is the heart. Good\nand evil, done either by others or by ourselves, awaken in us emotions,\naffections of diverse nature. These emotions or affections are what\ncollectively constitute the _moral sentiment_.\n\nIt does not suffice that a man know and distinguish the good and the evil,\nand experience for the one and for the other different sentiments; it is\nalso necessary, in order to be a _moral agent_, that he be capable of\n_choosing_ between them; he cannot be commanded to do what he cannot do,\nnor can he be forbidden to do what he cannot help doing. This power of\nchoosing is called _liberty_, or _free will_.\n\nA free agent--one, namely, who can discern between the right and the\nwrong--is said to be responsible for his actions; that is to say, he can\nanswer for them, give an account of them, suffer their consequences; he is\nthen their _real cause_. His actions may consequently be attributed to\nhim, put to his account; in other words _imputed_ to him. The agent is\nresponsible, the actions are _imputable_.\n\nHuman actions, we have said, are sometimes good, sometimes bad. These two\nqualifications have degrees in proportion to the importance or the\ndifficulty of the action. It is thus we call an action _suitable_,\n_estimable_, _beautiful_, _admirable_, _sublime_, etc. On the other hand,\na bad action is sometimes but a simple mistake, and sometimes a _crime_.\nIt is _culpable_, _base_, _abominable_, _execrable_, etc.\n\nIf we observe in an agent the _habit_ of good actions, a _constant\ntendency_ to conform to the law of duty, this habit or constant tendency\nis called _virtue_, and the contrary tendency is called _vice_.\n\nWhilst man feels himself bound by his conscience to seek the _right_, he\nis impelled by his nature to seek _pleasure_. When he enjoys pleasure\nwithout any admixture of pain, he is _happy_; and the highest degree of\npossible pleasure with the least degree of possible pain is _happiness_.\nNow, experience shows that happiness is not always in harmony with virtue,\nand that pleasure does not necessarily accompany right doing.\n\nAnd yet we find such a separation unjust; and we believe in a natural and\nlegitimate connection between pleasure and right, pain and wrong.\nPleasure, considered as the consequence of well-doing, is called\n_recompense_; and pain, considered as the legitimate consequence of evil,\nis called _punishment_.\n\nWhen a man has done well he thinks, and all other men think, that he has a\nright to a recompense. When he has done ill they think the contrary, and\nhe himself thinks also that he must atone for his wrong-doing by a\nchastisement. This principle, by virtue of which we declare a moral agent\ndeserving of happiness or unhappiness according to his good or bad\nactions, is called the principle of merit and demerit.\n\nThe sum total of the rewards and punishments attached to the execution or\nviolation of a law is called sanction; the sanction of the moral law will\nthen be called _moral sanction_.\n\nAll law presupposes a legislator. The moral law will presuppose, then, a\n_moral_ legislator, and morality consequently raises us to God. All human\nor earthly sanction being shown by observation to be insufficient, the\nmoral law calls for a religious sanction. It is thus that morality\nconducts us to the _immortality of the soul_.\n\nIf we go back upon the whole of the ideas we have just briefly expressed,\nwe shall see that at each of the steps we have taken there are always two\ncontraries opposed the one to the other: _good_ and _evil_, _command_ and\n_prohibition_, _virtue_ and _vice_, _merit_ and _demerit_, _pleasure_ and\n_pain_, _reward_ and _punishment_.\n\nHuman life presents itself, then, under two aspects. Man can choose\nbetween the two. This power is liberty. This choice is difficult and\nlaborious; it exacts from us incessant efforts. It is for this reason that\nlife is said to be a _trial_, and is often represented as a _combat_. It\nshould therefore not be represented as a play, but rather as a manly and\nvaliant effort. Struggle is its condition, peace its prize.\n\nSuch are the fundamental ideas _morality_ has for its object, and of which\nit seeks, at the same time, both the principles and the applications.\n\n=2. What is morality? the object of morality.=--Morality may be considered\nas a _science_ or as an _art_.\n\nBy science we understand a totality of truths connected with each other\nconcerning one and the same object. Science has for its object proper,\n_knowledge_.\n\nBy art we understand a totality of rules or precepts for directing\nactivity towards a definite end; art has for its object proper, _action_.\n\nScience is _theoretical_ or _speculative_; art is _practical_.\n\nMorality is a science inasmuch as it seeks to know and demonstrate the\nprinciples and conditions of morality; it is an art inasmuch as it shows\nand prescribes to us its applications.\n\nAs science, morality may be defined: science of _good_ or science of\n_duty_.\n\nAs art, morality may be defined: the art of right living or the art of\nright acting.\n\n=3. Division of morality.=--Morality is divided into two parts: in one it\nstudies principles, in the other, applications; in the one, _duty_; in the\nother, _duties_.\n\nHence a _theoretical_ morality and a _practical_ morality. The first may\nalso be called _general_ morality, and the second _particular_ morality,\nbecause the first has for its object the study of the common and general\ncharacter of all our duties, and the other especially that of the\nparticular duties, which vary according to objects and circumstances. It\nis in the first that morality has especially the character of science, and\nin the second, the character of art.\n\n=4. Utility of morality.=--The utility of moral science has been disputed.\nThe ancients questioned whether virtue could be taught. It may also be\nasked whether it should be taught. Morality, it is said, depends much more\nupon the heart than upon the reasoning faculties. It is rather by\neducation, example, habit, religion, sentiment, than through theories,\nthat men become habituated to virtue. If this were so, moral science would\nbe of no use.\n\nHowever, though it may be true that for happiness nothing can take the\nplace of practice, it does not follow that reflection and study may not\nvery efficaciously contribute toward it, and for the following reasons:\n\n1. It often happens that evil has its origin in the sophisms of the mind,\nsophisms ever at the service of the passions. It is therefore necessary to\nward off or prevent these sophisms by a thorough discussion of principles.\n\n2. A careful study of the principles of morality causes them to penetrate\ndeeper into the soul and gives them there greater fixity.\n\n3. Morality consists not only in the actions themselves, but especially in\nthe motives of our actions. An outward morality, wholly of habit and\nimitation, is not yet the true morality. Morality must needs be\naccompanied by conscience and reflection. So viewed, moral science is a\nnecessary element of a sound education, and the higher its principles the\nmore the conscience is raised and refined.\n\n4. Life often presents moral problems for our solution. If the mind is not\nprepared for them it will lack certainty of decision; what above all is to\nbe feared is that it will mostly prefer the easier and the more convenient\nsolution. It should be fortified in advance against its own weakness by\nacquiring the habit of judging of general questions before events put it\nto the proof.\n\nSuch is the utility of morality. It is of the same service to man as\ngeometry is to the workman; it does not take the place of tact and common\nsense, but it guides and perfects them.\n\nIt is well understood, moreover, that such a study in nowise excludes, it\neven exacts, the co-operation of all the practical means we have indicated\nabove, which constitute what is called _education_. Doctrinal teaching is\nbut the complement and confirmation of teaching by practice and by\nexample.\n\n=5. Short resume of theoretical morality.=--_Theoretical_ morality should,\nin fact, precede practical morality, and that is what usually takes place;\nbut as it presents more difficulties and less immediate applications than\npractical morality, we shall defer the developments it may give rise to,\nto a subsequent year.[2] The present will be a short resume, purely\nelementary, containing only preliminary and strictly necessary notions. It\nwill be an exposition of the common notions we have just enumerated above.\n\n=6. Pleasure and the good.=--Morality being, as we have said, the science\nof the _good_, the first question that presents itself is: What is _good_?\n\nIf we are to believe the first impulses of nature, which instinctively\nurge us towards the agreeable and cause us to repel all that is painful,\nthe answer to the preceding question would not be difficult; we should\nhave but to reply: \"Good is what makes us happy; good is _pleasure_.\"\n\nOne can, without doubt, affirm that morality teaches us to be happy, and\nputs us on the way to true happiness. But it is not, as one might believe,\nin obeying that blind law of nature which inclines us towards pleasure,\nthat we shall be truly happy. The road morality points out is less easy,\nbut surer.\n\nSome very simple reflections will suffice to show us that it cannot be\nsaid absolutely that pleasure is the _good_ and pain the _bad_. Experience\nand reasoning easily demonstrate the falsity of this opinion.\n\n1. Pleasure is not always a good, and in certain circumstances it may even\nbecome a real evil; and, _vice versa_, pain is not always an evil, and it\nmay even become a great good. Thus we see, on the one hand, that the\npleasures of intemperance bring with them sickness, the loss of health and\nreason, shortening of life. The pleasures of idleness bring poverty,\nuselessness, the contempt of men. The pleasures of vengeance and of crime\ncarry with them chastisement, remorse, etc. Conversely, again, we see the\nmost painful troubles and trials bringing with them evident good. The\namputation of a limb saves our life; energetic and painstaking work brings\ncomfort, etc. In these different cases, if we consider their results, it\nis pleasure that is an evil and pain a good.\n\n2. It must be added that among the pleasures there are some that are low,\ndegrading, vulgar; for example, the pleasures of drunkenness; others,\nagain, that are noble and generous, as the heroism of the soldier. Among\nthe pleasures of man there are some he has in common with the beasts, and\nothers that are peculiar to him alone. Shall we put the one kind and the\nother on the same level? Assuredly not.\n\n3. There are pleasures very keen, which, however, are fleeting, and soon\npass away, as the pleasures of the passions; others which are durable and\ncontinuous, as those of health, security, domestic comfort, and the\nrespect of mankind. Shall we sacrifice life-long pleasures to pleasures\nthat last but an hour?\n\n4. Other pleasures are very great, but equally uncertain, and dependent on\nchance; as, for instance, the pleasures of ambition or the pleasures of\nthe gaming-table; others, again, calmer and less intoxicating, but surer,\nas the pleasures of the family circle.\n\nPleasures may then be compared in regard to _certainty_, _purity_,\n_durability_, _intensity_, etc. Experience teaches that we should not seek\npleasures without distinction and choice; that we should use our reason\nand compare them; that we should sacrifice an uncertain and fleeting\npresent to a durable future; prefer the simple and peaceful pleasures,\nfree from regrets, to the tumultuous and dangerous pleasures of the\npassions, etc.; in a word, sacrifice the _agreeable_ to the _useful_.\n\n=7. Utility and honesty.=--One should prefer, we have just seen, the\n_useful_ to the _agreeable_; but the useful itself should not be\nconfounded with the real good--that is, with the _honest_.\n\nLet us explain the differences between these two ideas.\n\n1. There is no honesty or moral goodness without _disinterestedness_; and\nhe who never seeks anything but his own personal interest is branded by\nall as a _selfish_ man.\n\n2. Interest gives only advice; morality gives _commands_. A man is not\nobliged to be skillful, but he is obliged to be _honest_.\n\n3. Personal interest cannot be the foundation of any _universal_ and\n_general_ law as applicable to others as to ourselves, for the happiness\nof each depends on his own way of viewing things. Every man takes his\npleasure where he finds it, and understands his interest as he pleases;\nbut honesty or justice is the same for all men.\n\n4. The honest is _clear_ and _self-evident_; the useful is _uncertain_.\nConscience tells every one what is right or wrong; but it requires a long\ntrained experience to calculate all the possible consequences of our\nactions, and it would often be absolutely impossible for us to foresee\nthem. We cannot, therefore, always know what is useful to us; but we can\nalways know what is right.\n\n5. It is never impossible to do right; but one cannot always carry out his\nown wishes in order to be happy. The prisoner may always bravely bear his\nprison, but he cannot always get out of it.\n\n6. We judge ourselves according to the principles of action we recognize.\nThe man who _loses_ in gambling may _be troubled_ and regret his\nimprudence; but he who is conscious of having cheated in gambling (though\nhe won thereby) must _despise_ himself if he judges himself from the\nstandpoint of moral law. This law must therefore be something else than\nthe principle of personal happiness. For, to be able to say to one's self,\n\"I am a _villain_, though I have filled my purse,\" requires another\nprinciple than that by which one congratulates himself, saying, \"I am a\nprudent man, for I have filled my cash-box.\"\n\n7. The idea of _punishment_ or chastisement could not be understood,\nmoreover, if the good only were the useful. A man is not punished for\nhaving been _awkward_; he is punished for being culpable.\n\n=8. The good or the honest.=--We have just seen that neither pleasure nor\nusefulness is the legitimate and supreme object of human life. We are\ncertainly permitted to seek pleasure, since nature invites us to it; but\nwe should not make it the aim of life. We are also permitted, and even\nsometimes commanded, to seek what is useful, since reason demands we see\nto our self-preservation. But, above pleasure and utility, there is\nanother aim, a higher aim, the real object of human life. This higher and\nfinal aim is what we call, according to circumstances, the _good_, the\n_honest_, and the _just_.\n\nNow, what is _honesty_?\n\nWe distinguish in man a double nature, _body_ and _soul_; and in the soul\nitself two parts, one superior, one inferior; one more particularly\ndeserving of the name of soul, the other more carnal, more material, if\none may say so, which comes nearer the body. In one class we have\n_intelligence_, _sentiments_, _will_; in the other, _senses_, _appetites_,\n_passions_. Now, that which distinguishes man from the lower animal is the\npower to rise above the senses, appetites, and passions, and to be capable\nof thinking, loving, and willing.\n\nThus, moral good consists in preferring what there is best in us to what\nthere is least good; the goods of the soul to the goods of the body; the\ndignity of human nature to the servitude of animal passions; the noble\naffections of the heart to the inclinations of a vile selfishness.\n\nIn one word, moral good consists in man becoming truly man--that is to\nsay, \"A free will, guided by the heart and enlightened by reason.\"\n\nMoral good takes different names, according to the relations under which\nwe consider it. For instance, when we consider it as having for its\nspecial object the individual man in relation with himself, good becomes\nwhat is properly called the _honest_, and has for its prime object\npersonal dignity. In its relation with other men, good takes the name of\nthe _just_, and has for its special object the happiness of others. It\nconsists either in not doing to others what we should not wish they should\ndo to us, or in doing to others as we should ourselves wish to be done by.\nFinally, in its relation to God, the good is called piety or saintliness,\nand consists in rendering to the Father of men and of the universe what is\nhis due.\n\n=9. Duty.=--Thus, the _honest_, the _just_, and the _pious_ are the\ndifferent names which moral good takes in its relations to ourselves, to\nother men, or to God.\n\nMoral good, under these different forms, presents itself always in the\nsame character, namely, imposing on us the obligation to do it as soon as\nwe recognize it, and that, too, without regard to consequences and\nwhatever be our inclinations to the contrary.\n\nThus, we should tell the truth even though it injures us; we should\nrespect the property of others, though it be necessary to our existence;\nfinally, we should even sacrifice, if necessary, our life for the family\nand the country.\n\nThis law, which prescribes to us the doing right for its own sake, is what\nis called _moral law_ or the _law of duty_. It is a sort of constraint,\nbut a _moral constraint_, and is distinguished from _physical_ constraint\nby the fact that the latter is dictated by fate and is irresistible,\nwhilst the constraint of duty imposes itself upon our reason without\nviolating our liberty. This kind of necessity, which commands reason alone\nwithout constraining the will, is moral _obligation_.\n\nTo say that the right is obligatory is to say, then, that we consider\nourselves held to do it, without being forced to do it. On the contrary,\nif we were to do it by force it would cease to be the right. It must\ntherefore be done freely, and duty may thus be defined _an obligation\nconsented to_.\n\nDuty presents itself in a two-fold character: it is _absolute_ and\n_universal_.\n\n1. It is absolute: that is to say, it imposes its commands\nunconditionally, without taking account of our desires, our passions, our\ninterests. It is by this that the _commands_ of duty may be distinguished,\nas we have already said, from the counsels of an interested prudence. The\nrules or calculations of prudence are nothing but _means_ to reach a\ncertain end, which is the useful. The _law_ of duty, on the contrary, is\nin itself its own _aim_. Here the law should be obeyed for its own sake,\nand not for any other reason. Prudence says: \"The end justifies the\nmeans.\" Duty says: \"Do as thou shouldst do, let come what will.\"\n\n2. From this first character a second is deduced: duty being absolute, is\n_universal_; that is to say, it can be applied to all men in the same\nmanner and under the same circumstances; whence it follows that each must\nacknowledge that this law is imposed not only on himself, but on all other\nmen also.\n\nTo which correspond those two beautiful maxims of the Gospel: \"Do to\nothers as thou wishest to be done by. Do not do to others what thou dost\nnot wish they should do to thee.\"\n\nThe law of duty is not only obligatory in itself, it is so also because it\nis derived from God, who in his justice and goodness wishes we should\nsubmit to it. God being himself the absolutely perfect being, and having\ncreated us in his image, wishes, for this very reason, that we should make\nevery effort to imitate him as much as possible, and has thus imposed on\nus the obligation of being virtuous. It is God we obey in obeying the law\nof honesty and duty.\n\n=10. Moral conscience.=--A law cannot be imposed on a free agent without\nits being known to him; without its being present to his mind--that is to\nsay, without his accepting it as true, and recognizing the necessity of\nits application in every particular case. This faculty of recognizing the\nmoral law, and applying it in all the circumstances that may present\nthemselves, is what is called _conscience_.\n\nConscience is then that act of the mind by which we apply to a particular\ncase, to an action _to be performed_ or already _performed_, the general\nrules prescribed by moral law. It is both the power that commands and the\ninward judge that condemns or absolves. On the one hand it _dictates_ what\nshould be done or avoided; on the other it _judges_ what has been done.\nHence it is the condition of the performance of all our duties.\n\nConscience being the practical judgment which in each particular case\ndecides the right and the wrong, one can ask of man only one thing:\nnamely, to act according to his conscience. At the moment of action there\nis no other rule. But one must take great care lest by subtle doubts, he\nobscures either within himself or in others the clear and distinct\ndecisions of conscience.\n\nIn fact, men often, to divert themselves from the right when they wish to\ndo certain bad actions, fight their own conscience with sophisms. Under\nthe influence of these sophisms, conscience becomes _erroneous_; that is\nto say, it ends by taking good for evil and evil for good, and this is\neven one of the punishments of those who follow the path of vice: they\nbecome at last incapable of discerning between right and wrong. When it is\nsaid of a man that _he has no conscience_, it is not meant that he is\nreally deprived of it (else he were not a man); but that he has fallen\ninto the habit of not consulting it or of holding its decisions in\ncontempt.\n\nBy _ignorant conscience_ we mean that conscience which does wrong because\nit has not yet learned to know what is right. Thus, a child tormenting\nanimals does not always do so out of bad motives: he does not know or does\nnot think that he hurts them. In fact, it is with good as it is with evil;\nthe child is already good or bad before it is able to discern between the\none or the other. This is what is called the state of _innocence_, which\nin some respects is conscience asleep. But this state cannot last; the\nchild's conscience, and in general the conscience of all men, must be\nenlightened. This is the progress of human reason which every day teaches\nus better to know the difference between good and evil.\n\nIt sometimes happens that one is in some respects in doubt between two\nindications of conscience; not, of course, between duty and passion, which\nis the highest moral combat, but between two or more duties. This is what\nis called a _doubting_ or _perplexed_ conscience. In such a case the\nsimplest rule to follow, when it is practicable, is the one expressed by\nthat celebrated maxim: _When in doubt, abstain_. In cases where it is\nimpossible to absolutely abstain, and where it becomes necessary not only\nto act but to choose, the rule should always be to choose that part which\nfavors least our interests, for we may always suppose that that which\ncauses our conscience to doubt, is an interested, unobserved motive. If\nthere is no private interest in the matter either on the one side or the\nother, there remains nothing better to do than to decide according to\ncircumstances. But it is very rare that conscience ever finds itself in\nsuch an absolute state of doubt, and there are almost always more reasons\non the one side than on the other. The simplest and most general rule in\nsuch a case is to chose what seems most probable.\n\n=11. Moral Sentiment.=--At the same time, as the _mind_ distinguishes\nbetween good and evil by a _judgment_ called conscience, the _heart_\nexperiences emotions or divers affections, which are embraced under the\ncommon term _moral sentiment_. These are the pleasures or pains which\narise in our soul at the sight of good or evil, either in _ourselves_ or\nin _others_.\n\nIn respect to our own actions this sentiment is modified according as the\naction is to be performed, or is already performed. In the first instance\nwe experience, on the one hand, a certain attraction for the right (that\nis when passion is not strong enough to stifle it), and on the other, a\nrepugnance or aversion for the wrong (more or less attenuated, according\nto circumstances, by habit or the violence of the design). Usage has not\ngiven any particular names to these two sentiments.\n\nWhen, on the contrary, the action is performed, the pleasure which results\nfrom it, if we have acted rightly, is called _moral satisfaction_; and if\nwe have acted wrong, _remorse_, or _repentance_.\n\nRemorse is a burning pain; and, as the word indicates, the _bite_ that\ntortures the heart after a culpable action. This pain may be found among\nthe very ones who have no regret for having done wrong, and who would do\nit over again if they could. It has therefore no moral character\nwhatsoever, and must be considered as a sort of punishment attached to\ncrime by nature herself. \"Malice,\" said Montaigne, \"poisons itself with\nits own venom. Vice leaves, like an ulcer in the flesh, a repentance in\nthe soul, which, ever scratching itself, draws ever fresh blood.\"\n\n_Repentance_ is also, like remorse, a pain which comes from a bad action;\nbut there is coupled with it the regret of having done it, and the wish,\nif not the firm resolution, never to do it again.\n\nRepentance is a sadness of the soul; remorse is a torture and an anguish.\nRepentance is almost a virtue; remorse is a punishment; but the one leads\nto the other, and he who feels no remorse can feel no repentance.\n\n_Moral satisfaction_, on the contrary, is a peace, a joy, a keen and\ndelicious emotion born from the feeling of having accomplished one's duty.\nIt is the only remuneration that never fails us.\n\nAmong the sentiments called forth by our own actions, there are two which\nare the natural auxiliaries of the moral sentiment: they are the sentiment\nof _honor_ and the sentiment of _shame_.\n\nHonor is a principle which incites us to perform actions which raise us in\nour own eyes, and to avoid such as would lower us.\n\nShame is the opposite of honor; it is what we feel when we have done\nsomething that lowers us not only in the eyes of others, but in our own.\nAll remorse is more or less accompanied by shame; yet the shame is greater\nfor actions which indicate a certain baseness of soul. For instance, one\nwill feel more ashamed of having told a falsehood than for having struck a\nperson; for having cheated in gambling than for having fought a duel.\n\nHonor and shame are therefore not always an exact measure of the moral\nvalue of actions; for be they but brilliant, man will soon rid himself of\nall shame; this happens, for instance, in cases of prodigality,\nlicentiousness, ambition. One does wrong, not without remorse, but with a\ncertain ostentation which stifles the feelings of shame.\n\nLet us pass now to the sentiments which the actions of others excite in\nus.\n\nSympathy, antipathy, kindness, esteem, contempt, respect, enthusiasm,\nindignation, these are the various terms by which we express the diverse\nsentiments of the soul touching virtue and vice.\n\n_Sympathy_ is a disposition to share the same impressions with other men;\nto sympathize with their joy is to share that joy; to sympathize with\ntheir grief is to share that grief. It may happen that one sympathizes\nwith the defects of others when they are the same as our own; but, as a\ngeneral thing, people sympathize above all with the good qualities, and\nexperience only antipathy for the bad. At the theatre, all the spectators,\ngood and bad, wish to see virtue rewarded and crime punished.\n\nThe contrary of sympathy is antipathy.\n\nKindness is the disposition to wish others well. _Esteem_ is a sort of\nkindness mingled with judgment and reflection, which we feel for those who\nhave acted well, especially in cases of ordinary virtues; for before the\nhigher and more difficult virtues, esteem becomes _respect_; if it be\nheroism, respect turns into _admiration_ and _enthusiasm_; admiration\nbeing the feeling of surprise which great actions excite in us, and\nenthusiasm that same feeling pushed to an extreme; carrying us away from\nourselves, as if a god were in us.[3] _Contempt_ is the feeling of\naversion we entertain towards him who does wrong; it implies particularly\na case of base and shameful actions. When these actions are only\ncondemnable without being odious, the sentiment is one of _blame_, which,\nlike esteem, is nearer being a judgment than a sentiment. When, finally,\nit is a case of criminal and revolting actions, the feeling is one of\n_horror_ or _execration_.\n\n=12. Liberty.=--We have already said that man or the _moral agent_ is\n_free_, when he is in a condition to choose between right and wrong, and\nable to do either at his will.\n\nLiberty always supposes one to be in possession of himself. Man is free\nwhen he is awake, in a state of reason, and an adult. He is not free, or\nvery little so, when he is asleep, or delirious, or in his first\nchildhood.\n\nLiberty is certified to man.\n\n1. By the inward sentiment which accompanies each of his acts; for\ninstance, at the moment of acting, I feel that I can will or not will to\ndo such or such an action; if I enter on it, I feel that I can discontinue\nit as long as it is not fully executed; when it is completed, I am\nconvinced that I might have acted otherwise.\n\n2. By the very fact of _moral law_ or _duty_; I _ought_, therefore I\n_can_. No one is held to do the impossible. If, then, there is in me a law\nthat commands me to do good and avoid evil, it is because I can do either\nas I wish.\n\n3. By the _moral satisfaction_ which accompanies a good action; by the\nremorse or repentance which follows a bad one. One does not rejoice over a\nthing done against his will, and no one reproaches himself for an act\ncommitted under compulsion. The first word of all those reproached for a\nbad action is, that it was not done _on purpose, intentionally_. They\nacknowledge thereby that we can only be reproached for an action done\nwilfully; namely, freely.\n\n4. By the rewards and punishments, and in general by the _moral\nresponsibility_ which is attached to all our actions when they have been\ncommitted knowingly. We do not punish actions which are the result of\nconstraint or ignorance.\n\n5. By the _exhortations_ or counsels we give to others. We do not exhort a\nman to be warm or cold, not to suffer hunger or thirst, because it is\nwell known that this is not a thing dependent on his will. But we exhort\nhim to be honest, because we believe that he can be so if he wishes.\n\n6. By _promises_: no one promises not to die, not to be sick, etc., but\none promises to be present at a certain meeting, to pay a certain sum of\nmoney, on such a day, to such a man, because one feels he can do so unless\ncircumstances over which he has no control prevent.\n\n_Prejudices against Liberty._--Although men, as we have seen, may have the\nsense of liberty very strong, and may show it by their acts, by their\napprobation or blame, etc., yet, on the other hand, they often yield to\nthe force of certain prejudices which seem to contradict the universal\nbelief we have just spoken of.\n\n1. _Character._--The principal one of these prejudices is the often\nexpressed opinion that every man is impelled by his own _character_ to\nperform the actions which accord with this character, and that there is no\nhelp against this irresistible necessity of nature; this is often\nexpressed by the common axiom: \"One cannot make himself over again.\" The\nsame has also been expressed by the poet Destouches in that celebrated\nline:\n\n  Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop.[4]\n\nNothing is less exact as a fact and more dangerous as a principle, than\nthis pretended immutability of human character, which, if true, would\nrender evil irremediable and incorrigible.\n\nExperience teaches the contrary. No man is wholly deprived of good and bad\ninclinations; he may develop the one or the other, as he chooses between\nthem.\n\n2. _Habits._--Habits in the long run become, it is true, irresistible. It\nis a fact which has been often observed; but if, on the one hand, an\ninveterate habit is irresistible, it is not so in the beginning, and man\nis thus free to prevent the encroachments of bad habits. It is for this\nreason that moralists warn us above all against the beginnings of habits.\n\"Beware especially of beginnings,\" says the _Imitation_.\n\n3. _Passions._--Passions have especially enjoyed the privilege of passing\nfor uncontrollable and irresistible. All great sinners find their excuse\nin the fatal allurements of passions. \"The spirit is willing, but the\nflesh is weak,\" says the Gospel. The remarks we have just made touching\nthe habits, may be equally applied to the passions. It is rare that\npassions manifest themselves all of a sudden, and with that excess of\nviolence which, breaking upon one unexpectedly and like a delirium,\nassume, indeed, all the appearances of a fatality. But, as a general\nthing, passions grow little by little. \"Some smaller crimes always precede\nthe greater crimes.\" It is especially when the first attacks of a passion\nbegin to show themselves that it should be energetically fought down.\n\n4. _Education and circumstances._--The education one has received, the\ncircumstances one finds himself in, may put a limit to his liberty; and\nman is not wholly responsible for the impulses which he may owe to example\nand the bad principles in which he may have been brought up. These may,\nperhaps, be called _attenuating circumstances_; but they do not go so far\nas wholly to suppress liberty and responsibility. In the appreciation of\n_other people's acts_, we may allow the _attenuating circumstances_ as\nlarge a margin as possible, but in the case of self-government, one should\nmake it as strict and narrow as possible. No one having, in fact, a\nmeasure by which he may determine his moral strength in an absolute\nmanner, it is better to aim too high than too low. One should be guided by\nthe principle that nothing is impossible to him who has a strong will; for\n\"we can do a thing when we think we can.\" In conclusion, liberty means\nnothing else but _moral strength_. Experience certifies that man can\nbecome the master of the physical nature which he can subject to his\ndesigns; he can gain the mastery over his own body, his passions, his\nhabits, his own disposition; in a word, he can be \"master of himself.\" In\nthus ascending, step by step, from exterior nature to the body, from the\nbody to the passions, from the passions to the habits and the character,\nwe arrive at the first motor of action which moves everything without\nbeing moved: namely, liberty.\n\n=13. Merit and demerit.=--We call in general _merit_ the quality by virtue\nof which a moral agent renders himself worthy of a reward; and _demerit_\nthat by which he renders himself, so to say, worthy of punishment.\n\nThe merit of an action may be determined: 1, by the difficulty of the\naction; 2, by the importance of the duty.\n\n1. Why, for instance, is there in general very little merit in respecting\nother people's property and abstaining from theft? Because education in\nthis respect has so fashioned us, that few men have any temptation to the\ncontrary; and, even were there such a temptation, we should be ashamed to\npublicly claim any merit for having resisted it.\n\nWhy, on the other hand, is there great merit in sacrificing one's life to\nthe happiness of others? Because we are strongly attached to life, and\ncomparatively very little attached to men in general; to sacrifice what we\nlove most, to what we love but little, from a sense of duty, is evidently\nvery difficult; for this reason, we find in this action a very great\nmerit.\n\nSuppose a man, who had enjoyed in all security of conscience and during a\nlong life, a large fortune which he believes his, and of which he has made\nthe noblest use, should learn all at once, and at the brink of old age,\nthat this fortune belongs to another. Suppose, to render the action still\nmore difficult to perform, that he alone knows the fact, and could\nconsequently in all security keep the fortune if he wishes; aggravate the\nsituation still more by supposing that this fortune belongs to heirs in\ngreat poverty, and that in renouncing it the possessor would himself be\nreduced to utter misery. Imagine, finally, all the circumstances which may\nrender a duty both the strictest and most difficult, and you will have an\naction the merit of which will be very great.\n\n2. It is not only the difficulty of an action that constitutes its merit,\nbut also the importance of the duty. Thus the merit of a difficulty\nsurmounted, has no more value in morality than it has in poetry, when it\nstands alone. One may of course impose upon himself a sort of moral\ngymnastics, and consequently very difficult tasks, though very useless in\nthe end; but these will be considered only in the light of discipline and\nexercise, and not in that of duty; and this discipline would have to be\nmore or less connected with the life one may be called to lead. For\ninstance, suppose a missionary, called to brave during all his life all\nkinds of climates and dangers, should exercise himself beforehand in\nundertakings brave and bold, such undertakings would be both reasonable\nand meritorious. But he who out of bravado, ostentation, and without any\nworthy aim, should undertake the climbing to inaccessible mountain-tops,\nthe swimming across an arm of the sea, the fighting openly ferocious\nanimals, etc., he would accomplish actions which, it is true, would not be\nwithout merit, since they are brave; but their merit would not be\nequivalent to that we should attribute to other actions less difficult,\nbut more wise.\n\nAs to demerit, it is in proportion to the gravity of duties, and the\nfacility of accomplishing them. The more important a matter, and the\neasier to fulfil, the more is one culpable in failing to fulfil it.\n\nAccording to these principles, one may determine as follows the estimation\nof moral actions:\n\nHuman actions, we have said, are divided into two classes: the good and\nthe bad. It is a question among the moralists to determine whether there\nare any that are to be called _indifferent_.\n\nAmong the good actions, some are _beautiful_, _heroic_, _sublime_; others,\n_proper_, _right_, and _honest_; among the bad, some are simply\n_censurable_, others _shameful_, _criminal_, _hideous_; finally, among the\nindifferent ones, some are agreeable and allowable, others necessary and\nunavoidable.\n\nLet us give some examples by which the different characters of human\nactions may be well understood.\n\nA judge who administers justice without partiality, a merchant who sells\nhis merchandise for no more than it is worth, a debtor who regularly pays\nhis creditor, a soldier punctual at drill, obedient to discipline, and\nfaithful at his post in times of peace or war, a schoolboy doing regularly\nthe task assigned to him, all these persons perform actions good and\nlaudable, but they cannot be called extraordinary. They are approved of,\nbut not admired. To manage one's fortune economically, not to yield too\nmuch to the pleasure of the senses, to tell no lies, to neither strike nor\nwound others, are so many good, right, proper, and estimable actions; but\nthey cannot be called admirable actions.\n\nActions are beautiful in proportion to the difficulty of their\nperformance; when they are extremely difficult and perilous, then we call\nthem heroic and sublime; that is, provided they are good actions, for\nheroism is unfortunately sometimes allied with wrong. He who, like\nPresident de Harlay, can say to a very powerful usurper: \"It is a sad\nthing when the servant is allowed to dismiss the master;\" he who can say,\nlike Viscount d'Orthez, who made opposition to Charles IX. after St.\nBartholomew, saying: \"My soldiers are no executioners;\" he who, like\nBoissy d'Anglas, can firmly and resolutely uphold the rights of an\nassembly in the face of a sanguinary, violent, and rebellious populace; he\nwho, like Morus or Dubourg, would rather die than sacrifice his trust; he\nwho, like Columbus, can venture upon an unknown ocean, and brave the\nrevolt of a rude and superstitious crew, to obey a generous conviction; he\nwho, like Alexander, confides in friendship enough to receive from the\nhands of his physician a drink reputed poisoned; any man, in short, who\ndevotes himself for his fellow beings, who, in fire, in water, in the\ndepths of the earth, braves death to save life; who, in order to spread\nthe truth, to remain true and honest, to work in the interests of\nreligion, science, or humanity, will suffer hunger and thirst, poverty,\nslavery, torture, or death, is a _hero_.\n\nEpictetus was a slave. His master, for some negligence or other, caused\nhim to be beaten. \"You will break my leg,\" said the sufferer; and the leg\nbroke, indeed, under the blows. \"I told you you would break it,\" he\nremarked quietly. This is a hero.\n\nJoan of Arc, defeated by the English and made a prisoner, threatened with\nthe stake, said to her executioners: \"I knew quite well that the English\nwould put me to death; but were there a hundred thousand of them, they\nshould not have this kingdom.\" This is a heroine.\n\nBad actions have their degrees likewise. But here we should call attention\nto the fact that the worst are those that stand in opposition to the\nsimply good actions; on the contrary, an action which is not heroic is not\nnecessarily bad; and when it is bad it is not to be classed among the most\ncriminal. Some examples will again be necessary to understand these\nvarious shades of meaning, which every one feels and recognizes in\npractice, but which are very difficult to analyze theoretically.\n\nTo be respectful towards one's parents is a good and proper action, but\nnot a _heroic_ one. On the contrary, to strike them, insult them, kill\nthem, are abominable actions, and to be classed among the basest and most\nhideous that can be committed. To love one's friends, to be as serviceable\nto them as possible, shows a straightforward and well-endowed soul; but\nthere is nothing sublime in it. On the other hand, to betray friendship;\nto slander those that love us; to lie in order to win their favor; to\ninquire into their secrets for the purpose of using them against them, are\nblack, base, and shameful actions. There is scarcely any merit in not\ntaking what does not belong to us; theft, on the contrary, is the most\ncontemptible of things. Now, not to be able to bear with adversity, to\nfear death, to shrink from braving the ice of the North Pole, to stay at\nhome when fire or flood threatens our neighbor, may be mean or weak, but\nnot criminal. Let us add, however, that there are cases where heroism\nbecomes obligatory, and where it is criminal not to be heroic. A\nsea-captain, who has endangered his ship, and who, instead of saving it,\nleaves his post; a general who, when the moment calls for it, refuses to\ndie at the head of his army, lack courage; the chief of a State who, in\ntimes of revolt, or when the country is in peril, fears death; the\npresident of a convention who takes to flight before a rebellion; the\nphysician who runs away before an epidemic; the magistrate who is afraid\nto be just; all these are truly culpable. Every condition of life has its\npeculiar heroism, which at certain moments becomes a duty. Yet will it\nalways be true that the more easy an action is, the less excusable is its\nneglect, and consequently the more odious is it to try to escape from it.\n\nBesides the good or bad actions, there are others which appear to partake\nof neither the one nor the other of these two characters, which are\nneither good nor bad, and which for this reason are called indifferent.\nFor instance, to go and take a walk is an action which, considered by\nitself, is neither good nor bad, although it may become the one or the\nother according to circumstances. To be asleep, to be awake, to eat, to\ntake exercise, to talk with one's friends, to read an agreeable book, to\nplay on some instrument, are actions which certainly have nothing bad in\nthemselves, but which, nevertheless, could not be cited as examples of\ngood actions. One would not say, for instance, such a one is an honest man\nbecause he plays the violin well; such a one is a scholar because he has a\ngood appetite; still less when actions absolutely necessary come into\nquestion, as the act of breathing and sleeping. Actions, then, which are\ninseparable from the necessities of our existence, have no moral\ncharacter; they are the same with us as with the animals and plants; they\nare purely natural actions. There are others, again, that are not\nnecessary, but simply agreeable, which we perform because they suit our\ntastes and fancies.\n\nIt is sufficient that they are not contrary to the right, that one cannot\ncall them bad; but it does not follow from this that they are good, and\nsuch are what are called indifferent actions.\n\nSuch, at least, is the appearance of things; for, in a more elevated\nsense, the moralists were right in saying that there is no action\nabsolutely indifferent, and that all actions are in some respect good or\nbad, according to motive.\n\n=14. Moral responsibility.=--Man being free, is for this reason\n_responsible_ for his actions: they can be imputed to him. These two\nexpressions have about the same meaning, only the term responsibility\napplies to the agent, and imputability to the actions.\n\nThe two fundamental conditions of moral responsibility are: 1, the\nknowledge of good and evil; 2, the liberty of action. In proportion as\nthese two conditions vary, the responsibility will vary.\n\nIt follows from this, that idiocy, insanity, delirium in cases of\nillness--destroying nearly always both conditions of\nresponsibility--namely, discernment and free agency, deprive thereby of\nall moral character the actions committed in these different states. They\nare not of a nature to be imputed to a moral agent. Yet are there certain\nlunatics not wholly insane who may preserve in their lucid state a certain\nportion of responsibility.\n\n2. Drunkenness. May that be considered a cause of irresponsibility? No,\ncertainly not; for, on the one hand, one is responsible for the very act\nof drunkenness; and, on the other, one knows that in putting himself in\nsuch a condition he exposes himself to all its consequences, and accepts\nthem implicitly. For example, he who puts himself in a state of\ndrunkenness, consents beforehand to all the low, vulgar actions\ninseparable from that state. As to the violent and dangerous actions which\nmay accidentally result from it, as blows and murders springing from\nquarrels, one cannot, of course, impute them to the drunken man with the\nsame severity as to the sober man, for he certainly did not explicitly\nchose them when he put himself into a state of drunkenness; but neither is\nhe wholly innocent of them, for he knew that they were some of the\npossible consequences of that condition. As to him who puts himself\nvoluntarily into a state of drunkenness, with the express intention of\ncommitting a crime and giving himself courage for the act, it is evident\nthat, so far from diminishing thereby his share of responsibility in the\naction, he, on the contrary, increases it, since he makes violent efforts\nto keep off all the scruples or hesitations which might keep him from\ncommitting it.\n\n3. \"No one is held to do impossible things.\" According to this theory, it\nis evident that one is not responsible for an action he has been\nabsolutely unable to accomplish; thus we cannot blame a paralytic, or a\nchild, or an invalid, for not taking up arms in defence of his country.\nYet we must not have voluntarily created the impossibility of acting, as\nit often happened in Rome, where some, in order not to go to war, cut off\ntheir thumbs. The same with a debtor who, by circumstances independent of\nhis will (fire, shipwreck, epidemics), is unable to acquit himself: he is\nexcusable; but if he placed himself in circumstances which he knew would\ndisable him, his inability is no longer an excuse.\n\n4. Natural qualities or defects of mind and body cannot be imputed to any\none, either for good or for bad. Who would reproach a man for being born\nblind, or because he became so in consequence of sickness or a blow? The\nsame with the defects of the mind: no one is responsible for having no\nmemory, or for not being bright. Yet as these defects may be corrected by\nexercise, we are more or less responsible for making no efforts to remedy\nthem. As to the defects or deformities which result from our own fault,\nas, for example, the consequences of our passions, it is evident that they\ncan justly be imputed to us. Natural qualities cannot be credited to any\none. Thus we should not honor people for their physical strength, health,\nbeauty, or even wit; and no one should boast of such advantages, or pride\nhimself on them. However, he who by a wise and laborious life has\nsucceeded in preserving or developing his physical strength, or who, by\nthe effort of his will, has cultivated and perfected his mind, deserves\npraise; and it is thus that physical and moral advantages may become\nindirectly legitimate matter for moral approbation.\n\n5. The effects of extraneous causes and events, whatever they may be,\nwhether good or bad, can only be imputed to a man, as he could or should\nhave produced, prevented, or directed them, and has been careful or\nnegligent in doing so. Thus a farmer, according as he works the land\nentrusted to him well or badly, is made responsible for a good or bad\nharvest.\n\n6. A final question is that of the responsibility of a man for other\npeople's actions. Theoretically, no man certainly is responsible for any\nbut his own actions. But human actions are so interlinked with each other\nthat it is very rare that we have not some share, direct or indirect, in\nthe conduct of others. For instance, one is responsible in a certain\nmeasure for the conduct of those under him; a father for his children, a\nmaster for his servants, and, up to a certain point, an employer for his\nworkmen; 2, one is responsible in a measure for actions which he might\nhave prevented, when, either through negligence or laziness, he did not do\nso; if you see a man about to kill himself, and make no effort to prevent\nit, you are not innocent of his death, unless, of course, you did not\nsuspect what he was going to do; 3, you are responsible for other people's\nactions when, either by your instigations, or even by a simple\napprobation, you have co-operated towards them.\n\n=15. Moral sanction.=--We call the _sanction_ of a law the body of\nrecompenses and punishments attached to the execution or violation of the\nlaw. Civil laws, in general, make more use of punishments than rewards;\nfor punishments may appear means sufficient to have the law executed. In\neducation, on the contrary, the commands or laws laid down by a superior,\nhave as much need of rewards as punishments.\n\nBut what is to be understood by the terms _recompense_ and _punishment_?\nThe recompense of a good and virtuous action is the pleasure we derive\nfrom it, and for the very reason that it is good and virtuous.\n\nThere are to be distinguished, however, two other kinds of rewards, which,\nthough they resemble recompense, are nevertheless very different from it\nnamely, _favor_ and _remuneration_.\n\nFavor is a pleasure or an advantage bestowed on us, without our having\ndeserved or earned it; a pure expression of the good-will of others\ntowards us. It is thus that a king grants favors to his courtiers, that\nthose in power distribute favors. It is thus we speak of the favors of\nfortune. Although theoretically there is no reason why we should\nunderstand the word favor in a bad sense, yet has it by usage come to\nsignify not only an advantage undeserved, but unworthy; not only a\nlegitimate preference which has its reason in sympathy, but an arbitrary\nchoice more or less contrary to justice. However, although no such ugly\nsignification need be attached to it, a favor, as a gratuitous gift, must\nalways be distinguished from reward, which, on the contrary, implies a\n_remuneration_; that is to say, a gift in return for something.\n\nYet not all remuneration is necessarily a reward; and here we must\nestablish another distinction between reward and remuneration. By\nremuneration we mean the price we pay for a service rendered us, no matter\nwhat motive may determine a person to render us this service; it is for\nits utility we pay, and for nothing else. The reward, on the contrary,\nimplies the idea of a certain effort to do good. He who renders us a\nservice from affection and devotion, would refuse being _paid_ for it,\nand, _vice versa_, he who sells us his work does not ask us for a\nrecompense, but for an equivalent of what he would have earned for himself\nif he had applied his work to his own wants.\n\nOn the contrary, we call every pain or suffering inflicted on an agent for\ncommitting a bad action, for no other reason than that it is bad,\nchastisement or punishment.\n\nPunishment stands against _damage_ or _wrong_; that is to say, against\nundeserved harm. The _blows_ of fortune or of men are not always\npunishments. One may be _struck_ without being punished.\n\nAlthough we say in a general way that the ills that befall men are often\nthe chastisements of their faults, yet this should not be taken too\nstrictly, otherwise we should too easily transform the merely unfortunate\ninto criminals.\n\nAlthough recompenses and punishments may be only secondary means by which\nmen may be led to do good and avoid evil, this should not be their\nessential office nor their real idea.\n\nIt is not that the law _should be_ fulfilled that there are rewards and\npunishments in morality; it is _because_ it has been fulfilled or\nviolated. Such is the true principle of reward. It comes from justice, not\nutility.\n\nFor the same reason, chastisement, in its true sense, should not only be a\n_menace_ insuring the execution of the law, but a _reparation_ or\n_expiation_ for its violation. The order of things disturbed by a\nrebellious will is again re-established by the suffering which is the\nconsequence of the fault committed. In one sense it may be said that\npunishment is the _remedy_ for the fault. In fact, injustice and vice\nbeing, as it were, the diseases of the soul, it is certain that suffering\nis their remedy; but only on condition that this suffering be accepted by\nway of chastisement. It is thus that grief has a purifying virtue, and\nthat instead of being considered an evil, it may be called a good.\n\nAnother confusion of ideas which should be equally avoided, and which is\nvery common among men, is that which consists in taking the reward itself\nfor a good, and the punishment for an evil.\n\nIt is thus that men are often more proud of the titles and honors they\nhave obtained, than of the real merit through which they have won them. It\nis thus also that they fear the prison more than the crime, and shame more\nthan vice.\n\nIt is for this reason that the greatest courage is needed to bear\nundeserved punishment.\n\nWe distinguish generally _four species_ of sanction:\n\n1. _Natural_ sanction; 2, _legal_ sanction; 3, the sanction of _public\nopinion_; 4, _inward_ sanction.\n\n1. Natural sanction is that which rests on the natural consequences of our\nactions. It is natural for sobriety to keep up and establish health, for\nintemperance to be a cause of disease. It is natural for work to bring\nwith it ease of circumstances, for idleness to be a source of misery and\npoverty. It is natural that probity should insure security, confidence,\nand credit; that courage should put off the chances of death; that\npatience should render life more bearable; that good-will should call\nforth good-will; that wickedness should drive men from us; that perjury\nshould cause them to distrust us, etc. These facts have ever been verified\nby experience. The honest is not always the useful; but it is often what\nis most useful.\n\n2. _Legal_ sanction is above all a _penal_ sanction. It is composed of the\nchastisements which the law has established for the guilty. There are, in\ngeneral, few rewards established by the law, and they may be classed among\nwhat is called the esteem of men.\n\n3. Another kind of sanction consists in the _opinion_ other men entertain\nin regard to our actions and character. We have seen that it is in the\nnature of good actions to inspire esteem, in the nature of the bad to\ninspire blame and contempt. The honest man generally enjoys public honor\nand consideration. The dishonest man, even though the law does not reach\nhim, is branded with discredit, aversion, contempt, etc.\n\n4. Finally, a more exact and certain sanction is that which results from\nthe very conscience and moral sentiment mentioned above.\n\n=16. The superior sanction: the future life.=--These various sanctions\nbeing insufficient to satisfy our want of justice, there is required still\nanother, namely, the _superior religious_ sanction.\n\nIt is a well-known fact that virtue is not a sufficient shield to protect\nus against the blows of adversity, and that immorality does not\nnecessarily condemn one to misery and grief. It is evident that a man\ncorrupt and wicked may be born with all the advantages of genius, fortune,\nhealth; and that an honest man may have inherited none of these.\n\nThere is in this neither injustice nor blind chance; but it proves that\nthe harmony between moral good and happiness is not of this world.\n\nIn regard to the pleasures and pains of conscience, it is also evident\nthat they are not sufficient. In fact, the pleasures of the senses may\ndivert and deaden the pangs of remorse; and it must also be said, though\nit be still more sad, that it sometimes happens that a merciless\ncontinuance of misfortune deadens in an honest soul the delight in virtue;\nand the painful efforts which virtue costs may finally obliterate in a\nman, tired of life, the calm and sweet enjoyment which it naturally brings\nwith it.\n\nIf such is the disproportion and disagreement between the inner pleasures\nand pains, and the moral merit of him who experiences them, what shall we\nsay of that wholly outward sanction which consists in the rewards and\npunishments distributed by the unequal justice of man? I do not speak of\nlegal pains alone; it is well known that they often fall upon the\ninnocent, and are spared to the guilty; that they are almost always\ndisproportioned: the law punishing the crime, without taking note of the\nexact moral value of the action; but I speak also of the pains and rewards\nof public opinion, esteem, and contempt. Are these always in an exact\nproportion to merit?\n\nFrom all these observations it results that the law of harmony between\ngood and happiness is not of this world; that there is always\ndisagreement, or at least disproportion, between moral merit and the\npleasures of the senses. Hence the necessity of a superior sanction, the\nmeans and time of which are in the hand of God.\n\n\"The more I go within myself,\" says a philosopher,[5] \"the more I consult\nmyself, the more I read these words written in my soul: _be just and thou\nshalt be happy_. And yet it is not so, looking at the actual state of\nthings: the wicked prosper, and the just are oppressed. See, also, what\nindignation arises in us when this expectation is frustrated! The\nconscience murmurs and rebels against its author; it cries to him,\ngroaning: Thou hast deceived me! I have deceived thee, oh thou rash one?\nWho has told thee so? Is thy soul annihilated? Hast thou ceased to exist?\nOh, Brutus! oh, my son, do not stain thy noble life by putting an end to\nit; do not leave thy hopes and glory with thy body on the fields of\nPhilippi. Why sayest thou: Virtue is nothing when thou art now about\nentering into the enjoyment of thine? Thou shalt die, thinkest thou; no,\nthou shalt live, and it is then I shall keep what I have promised! One\nwould say, hearing the murmurings of impatient mortals, that God owes them\na reward before they have shown any merit, and that he is obliged to pay\ntheir virtue in advance. Oh! let us first be good; we shall be happy\nafterwards. Do not let us claim the prize before the victory, nor the\nsalary before the work. 'It is not in the lists,' says Plutarch, 'that the\nvictors in our sacred games are crowned; it is after they have run the\ncourse.'\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nDIVISION OF DUTIES--GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =Division of duties.=--In theory there is but one duty, which is to do\n    right; but this duty is subdivided according to the various relations\n    of man. Hence three classes of duties: duties towards ourselves,\n    towards others, towards God: _individual_, _social_, _religious_\n    morality. We will begin with social morality, which requires the most\n    expounding.\n\n    =General principles of social duties:= to do good; not to do evil.\n\n    =Different degrees of this double obligation:= 1, not to return evil\n    for good (_ingratitude_); 2, not to do evil to those who have not done\n    us any (_injustice and cruelty_); 3, not to return evil for evil\n    (_revenge_); 4, to return good for good (_gratitude_); 5, to do good\n    to those who have not done us any (_charity_); 6, to return good for\n    evil (_clemency_, _generosity_).\n\n    =Distinction between the various kinds of social duties:= 1, towards\n    the _lives_ of other men; 2, towards their _property_; 3, towards\n    their _family_; 4, towards their _honor_; 5, towards their _liberty_.\n\n    =Distinction between the duties of justice and the duties of\n    charity.=--Justice is absolute, without restriction, without exception.\n    Charity, although as obligatory as justice, is more independent in its\n    application. It chooses its time and place; its objects and means;\n    _its beauty is in its liberty_.\n\n\nWe have seen that _practical_ morality or _private_ morality has for its\nobject to acquaint us with the _application_ of theoretical morality. It\nbears not so much on _duty_ as on _duties_. The first question, then, that\npresents itself to us is that of the _division of duties_.\n\n=17. Division of duties.=--It has been reasonably asserted that there is in\nreality but one duty, which is to do good under all circumstances, the\nsame as it has also been said that there is but one virtue: wisdom, or\nobedience to the laws of reason. But as these two general divisions teach\nus in reality nothing touching our various actions, which are very\nnumerous, it is useful and necessary to classify the principal\ncircumstances in which we have to act, in order to specify in a more\nparticular manner wherein the general principle which commands us to do\ngood may be applied in each case.\n\nHuman actions may then be divided, either in regard to the different\nbeings they have for their object, or in regard to the various faculties\nto which they relate.\n\nThe ancients divided morality particularly in reference to the divers\nhuman _faculties_, and in private morality they considered above all the\n_virtues_.\n\nThe moderns, on the other hand, have divided morality particularly in its\nrelations to the different _objects_ of our actions; and, in private\nmorality, they have considered, above all, the _duties_.\n\nThe ancients reduced all virtues to four principal ones: _prudence_,\n_temperance_, _courage_, and _justice_. This division was transmitted to\nus, and it is these four virtues which the catechism teaches under the\nname of _cardinal_ virtues.\n\nThe moderns reduced duties to three classes: the duties towards\n_ourselves_, towards _others_, and towards _God_. Some add a fourth class,\nnamely, duties towards _animals_.\n\nThat portion of morality which treats of the duties towards ourselves, is\ncalled _individual_ morality; that which treats of the duties towards God,\nis called _religious morality_; that which treats of the duties towards\nother men, _social morality_. As to the duties towards animals, they are\nof so secondary an order, that it is not worth while to classify them\napart; we shall include them in social morality.\n\nSocial morality is by far the most extended in precepts and applications,\nthe various relations of men with each other being extremely numerous. It\nmay be subdivided into three parts: 1, general duties of _social_ life, or\nmorality _properly called social_; 2, duties towards the State, or _civil_\nmorality; 3, duties towards the family, or _domestic_ morality.\n\nWe will begin with the study of social morality, social duties towards men\nin general, and we will first establish their principles and different\nvarieties.\n\nLet us in a few pages rapidly take a summary review of the general\nprinciples of _social_ morality.\n\n=18. General principles of social duties: to do good, not to do evil.=--All\nhuman actions, in regard to others, may be reduced to these two precepts:\n1, to do good to men; 2, not to do them harm. To this all the virtues of\nsocial morality may be reduced. But before exhibiting these virtues and\nvices more in detail, let us explain what is understood by the expressions\n_to do good_ and _to do evil_.\n\nIn the most general and apparent sense to do any one good would seem to be\n_to give him pleasure_; to do him harm, would seem to be _to give him\npain_. Yet, is it always doing good to a person to procure him pleasure?\nand is it always doing him harm, to cause him pain? For example, Kant[6]\nsays, \"Shall we allow the idler soft cushions; the drunkard wines in\nabundance; the rogue an agreeable face and manners, to deceive more\neasily; the violent man audacity and a good fist?\" Would it really be\ndoing good to these men to grant them the object of their desires, what\nmay satisfy their passions? On the other hand, the surgeon who amputates a\nmortified limb, the dentist who pulls out a bad tooth, the teacher who\nobliges you to learn, the father who corrects your faults or restrains\nyour passions, do they really do you harm because they give you pain? No,\ncertainly not. There are, then, cases where to do some one good is to\ncause him pain, and to do him harm is to procure him pleasure.\n\nOne may reasonably reduce all principles of social morality to these two\nmaxims of the gospel: \"Do not do to others what you do not wish them do\nto you;\"--\"Do to others as you wish to be done by.\" These two maxims are\nadmirable, certainly; but they must be interpreted rightly. If, for\ninstance, we have done wrong, do we generally wish to be corrected and\npunished? When we are yielding to a passion, do we wish to be repressed in\nit, have it repelled? On the contrary, do we not rather wish to be allowed\nto enjoy it, and have the free range of our vices? Is not this generally\nwhat we all wish, when the voice of duty is mute and does not silence our\npassionate feelings? If this is so, should we wish to do to others as we\nwish in similar circumstances, namely, in the gratification of passions,\nto be done by? Should we not rather do to them what we should not like\nthem do to us, that is, punish and correct them? It is evidently not in\nthat sense we are to understand the two evangelical maxims; for they would\nbe then no other than maxims of remissness and improper kindness; whilst\nthey, on the contrary, express most admirably a moral truth; only when\nthey speak of what we wish, they mean a _true_ and _good_ wish, not the\ndesires of passion; the same when we recommend men to do good, we mean\nreal good and not apparent good; as also in recommending to do no harm, we\nmean real harm, not the illusory harm of the senses, imagination and\npassions.\n\nThus, to well understand the duties we have to fulfil towards other men,\nwe must understand the distinction between _true good_ and _false good_.\nFalse good is that which consists exclusively in pleasure, all abstraction\nbeing made of usefulness or moral value; as, for example, the pleasures of\npassions. True good is that which independently of pleasure recommends\nitself either through usefulness or through moral value; as, for instance,\nhealth or education. The real evils, of course, are those which injure\neither the interests of others or their moral dignity, such as misery or\ncorruption. Apparent evils are those which cause us to suffer but a moment\nand redeem themselves by subsequent advantages: as, for instance, remedies\nor chastisements.\n\nWhen we speak of good in regard to others, we should not fear to\nunderstand by that their interest, as well as their moral welfare; for,\nthough we should not make our own interest the aim of our actions, it is\nnot so in our relation with others. The seeking of our own happiness has\nno moral value; but the seeking of other people's happiness may have one,\nprovided, we repeat, that we do not deceive ourselves touching the real\nsense of the word _happiness_, and that we do not understand by it a\ndeceitful and short-lived delight.\n\n\"To do to others _as we wish_ to be done by; not to do to them what we do\n_not wish_ they should do us,\" should, therefore, be understood in the\nsense of an _enlightened_ will, which wills for itself nothing but what is\ntruly conformable either to a proper interest or to virtue. Thus\nunderstood (and it is their true sense[7]), these two maxims comprehend\nperfectly the whole of social morality.\n\n=19. Different degrees of this double obligation.=--The sense of these two\nexpressions, to do good and to do harm, being now well-defined, let us\nexamine the various cases which may present themselves, in rising, so to\nsay, from the lowest to the highest round of duty. Let us first suppose a\ncertain good or a certain evil, which will not vary in any of the\nfollowing cases: this is the scale one may observe starting from the least\nvirtue, to which corresponds evidently the greatest vice (by virtue of the\nprinciple set forth above[8]), to rise to the highest virtue, to which the\nleast vice corresponds.\n\n1. _Not to return evil for good._--This is, one may say (all things being\nequal), the feeblest of the virtues, as to return evil for good\nconstitutes the greatest of wrongs. Say, for example, homicide: is it not\nevident that the murder of a benefactor is the most abominable of all?\nthat to rob a benefactor is the most horrible of robberies? that the\nslander of a benefactor is the most criminal of slanders? On the other\nhand again, not to kill, not to steal, not to slander, not to deceive a\nbenefactor, is the minimum of moral virtue. To abstain from doing harm to\nhim who has done you good, is a wholly negative virtue, which is simply\nthe absence of a crime. We cannot call that gratitude, for gratitude is a\npositive virtue, not a negative one; it is all in action, and not in\nomission; but, before being grateful, the first condition at least, is to\nbe not ungrateful. We shall then say that the greatest of crimes is\n_ingratitude._ It is by reason of this principle that the crimes towards\nparents are the most odious of all; for we have no greater benefactors\nthan our parents, and without mentioning the crimes nature finds repugnant\nenough, it is evident that the same kind of harm (wounds, blows, insults,\nnegligence, etc.) will always be more blamable when done to parents than\nto any other benefactors, and to benefactors in general, than to any other\nmen.\n\n2. _Not to do harm to those who have not done us any._--The violation of\nthis maxim is the second degree of crime and of sin, somewhat less serious\nthan the preceding one, but still odious enough that to abstain from it\nis, in many cases, a rather feeble virtue. Not to kill, not to steal, not\nto deceive, not to expose one's self to the punishments of the law, are,\nindeed, of a very feeble moral value; whilst their contraries constitute\nthe basest and most odious of actions.\n\nThe kind of vice which injures others without provocation is what is\ncalled _injustice_, and when the pleasure of doing wrong is joined\nthereto, it is called _cruelty_. Cruelty is an injustice which rejoices in\nthe harm done to others; injustice contents itself with taking advantage\nof it. There is, therefore, a higher degree of evil in cruelty than in\ninjustice pure and simple.\n\nThe virtue opposed to injustice is _justice_, which has two degrees and\ntwo forms: the one negative, which consists simply in abstaining from\ndoing _injury to any one_; the second positive, which consists in\n_rendering to each his due_. This second form of justice is more difficult\nthan the first, for it is active. It is more difficult to restore to\nothers what we hold as our own, or to pay one's debts, than to abstain\nfrom stealing; it is more difficult to speak well of one's rivals, than to\nabstain from slandering them; it is more difficult to give up one's\nposition to another who deserves it, than to abstain from taking his; and\nyet there are cases where justice requires one should act instead of\nsimply abstaining.\n\n3. _Not to return evil for good._--Here we rise, in some respect, a degree\nin the moral scale. The two inferior degrees, namely, ingratitude and\ncruelty, have always and everywhere been considered as crimes. Nowhere has\nit ever been considered allowable to do harm to those who have done us\ngood. But in nearly all societies, at a certain degree of civilization,\nhas it been considered allowable, and even praiseworthy, to return evil\nfor evil. \"To do good to our friends, and harm to our enemies,\" is one of\nthe maxims the poets and sages of Greece oftenest repeat. Among the\nIndians of America, glory consists in ornamenting one's dwelling with the\ngreatest possible number of scalps taken from conquered enemies. We know\nabout the Corsican _vendetta_. In one word, the passion of revenge (which\nconsists precisely in returning evil for evil) is one of the most natural\nand the most profound in the human heart, and it demands a very advanced\nmoral education to comprehend that revenge is contrary to the laws of\nmorality. Now, as the beauty of virtue is in proportion to the difficulty\nof the passions to be overcome, it is evident that the virtues contrary to\nrevenge, namely: _gentleness_, _clemency_, _pardon of injuries_, are\namongst the most beautiful and most sublime. Already among the ancients\nhad morality reached this maxim, that one should not do any harm, namely,\neven to those who had done us some, as may be seen from the dialogue of\nPlato, entitled the _Crito_. \"_Socrates_: One should then commit no\ninjustice whatsoever?\" \"_Crito_: No, certainly not.\" \"_Socrates_: Then\nshould one not be unjust even towards those who are unjust towards us.\"\n\n4. Thus far we have only spoken of the virtues which express themselves\nnegatively, and which consist especially in doing no harm. Let us now\nconsider those which express themselves affirmatively, and which consist\nin doing good. The first degree is to return _good for good_: which is\ngratitude, the contrary of which, as we have seen, is ingratitude; but\nthere are two sorts of ingratitude, as there are two sorts of gratitude.\nThere is a negative ingratitude, as there is a positive ingratitude. The\npositive ingratitude, which is, as we have seen, the most odious of all\ncrimes, consists in returning evil for good; negative ingratitude consists\nsimply in not returning good for good, namely, in forgetting a kindness.\nIt is not so reprehensible as the former, but it has still a certain\ncharacter of baseness. Gratitude is also twofold in its degrees and forms:\nit is negative, inasmuch as it abstains from injuring a benefactor;[9] it\nis positive, inasmuch as it returns good for good. In one sense, gratitude\nis a part of justice, for it consists in returning to a benefactor what is\ndue him; but it is also a notable part, and one which deserves being\npointed out, for it seems that there is nothing easier than to return good\nfor good; and experience, on the contrary, teaches us that there is\nnothing more rare. [This is certainly too strongly put.]\n\n5. _To do good to those who have done us neither good nor harm._ This is\nwhat is called charity, which is a degree above the preceding, for in the\npreceding case we scarcely do more than give back what we have received;\nin this case we put in something of our own. But to characterize this new\ndegree of virtue, it is necessary to well explain that the question\nrelates to a good _that is not due_. For justice, we have seen, does not\nalways mean to abstain from evil; it even does good sometimes. To restore\na trust to one not expecting it; to do good to him who deserves it; to\nelect to a position one worthy of it; or, what is still more heroic, to\ngive one's own position up to him, this evidently is doing good to others,\nand to those who have not done us any; but these are goods _due_, which\nalready belong in some respects to those upon whom we confer them. It is\nnot so with the goods which charity distributes. The gifts I make to the\npoor, the consolations I give to the afflicted, the care I bestow upon the\nsick, all of which take from my time, my interests, and my life which I\nendanger to save a fellow-being, are also goods which are my own and not\nhis. I do not return to him what he would otherwise legitimately possess,\nwhether he knows it or not. I give him something of my own; it is a pure\n_gift_. This gift is suggested to me by love, not by justice. The contrary\nof charity or devotion to others is _selfishness_.\n\nFinally, there is a last degree above all other preceding degrees, namely,\n_to return good for evil_. This kind of virtue, the highest of all, has no\nparticular name in the language. Charity, in fact, consists in doing good\ngenerally, and comprises the two degrees: to do good to the unfortunate,\nand return good for evil. Clemency may consist in simply pardoning; it\ndoes not necessarily go so far as to return good for evil.\n\nCorneille might as well have called his tragedy of Cinna, the Clemency of\nAugustus, even if Augustus had merely pardoned Cinna, and not added: \"Let\nus be friends!\" Thus has this great and magnificent virtue no name, and as\nscience is powerless in creating words suitable for every-day language, it\nmust rest satisfied with periphrases. Nevertheless, this sublime virtue\nfinds nowhere a grander expression than in those maxims of the Gospel:\n\"You have been told that it was said: Thou shalt love thy neighbor and\nhate thy enemy: But I say to you: Love your enemies; do good to those that\nhate you, and pray for those that despitefully use you and persecute\nyou.\"\n\n=20. Different kinds of social duties.=--After the preceding division,\nwhich answers to the different degrees of obligation which may exist among\nmen, there is another classification which rests on the various _species_\nor _kinds_ of duties which we may have to perform towards our\nfellow-beings. Let us first briefly state what will be developed at\ngreater length in the following chapters.\n\n1. _Duties relating to the life of others._--According to the two maxims\ncited above, these duties are of two kinds: 1, not to attempt the life of\nothers; 2, to make efforts to save the life of others. All attempt at the\nlife of others is called _homicide_. When accompanied by perfidy or\ntreason, it is _assassination_. The murder of parents by children is\ncalled _parricide_; of children by parents (especially at the tenderest\nage), _infanticide_; of brothers by brothers, _fratricide_. All these\ncrimes are most odious, and most repugnant to the human heart. Murder is\nnever permitted, even when the highest interest and the greatest good is\nat stake. Thus did the ancients err in believing that the murder of a\ntyrant, or _tyrannicide_, was not only legitimate, but also honorable and\nbeautiful. However, there is to be excepted the case of _legitimate\nself-defense_; for we cannot be forbidden to defend ourselves against him\nwho wishes to deprive us of life. But the _duel_ should not be considered\nan act of legitimate self-defense: that is evident in the case of the\naggressor; and, on the other side, there is only the defense that there\nhas been the consent to be put in peril. As to the question whether an\nattack on honor is not equivalent to an attack on life, it cannot be said\nthat it is false in all cases; but the abuse of the thing is here so near\nthe principle, that it is wiser to condemn altogether a barbarous\npractice, of which so deplorable an abuse has been made. Finally, homicide\nin war, within the conditions authorized by international law, is\nconsidered a case of legitimate self-defense.[10]\n\nIf murder is the most criminal of actions, and the most revolting to our\nsensibilities, the action, on the contrary, which consists in _saving the\nlife_ of others is the most beautiful of all. \"The good shepherd gives his\nlife for the sheep.\"\n\nWith the fundamental duty not to attempt the life of other men, is\nconnected, as corollary, the duty not to injure them bodily by blows or\nwounds, or by dangerous violence done to their health, and, conversely, to\nassist them in illness.\n\n2. _Duties relating to property._--It is evident[11] that man cannot\npreserve his life and render it happy and comfortable without a certain\nnumber of material objects which are his. The legitimate possession of\nthese goods is what is called _property_.[12] The right of property rests\nin one respect on social utility, and in the other on human labor. On the\none hand, society cannot subsist without a certain order that settles for\neach what is _his own_; on the other, it is but right that each should be\nthe proprietor of what he has earned by his work; the right of possession\ncarries with it the right of economizing, and, consequently, the right of\nforming a _capital_, and, moreover, the right of using this capital in\nmaking it bear _interest_. Again, the right of preserving implies also the\nright of _transmission_; hence the legitimacy of _inheritance_.\n\nProperty once founded upon law, it becomes our duty not to transgress the\nlaw. The act of taking what belongs to another is called _theft_. Theft is\nabsolutely forbidden by the moral law, whatever name it may assume, or\nunder whatever prestige it may present itself. \"Thou shalt not steal.\"\nTheft does not consist merely in putting one's hand into a neighbor's\npocket; it includes all possible ways whereby the property of others may\nbe appropriated. For example, to _defraud_ in regard to the quality of the\nthing sold; to practice illegal _stock-jobbing_; to convert to one's own\nuse a _deposit_ entrusted to one's care; to borrow without knowing\nwhether one can pay, and after having borrowed, to disown the debt, or\nrefuse to pay it; there are as many forms of theft as there are ways of\nappropriating the property of others.\n\nRegarding the property of others, the negative duty then consists in not\ntaking what belongs to others. The positive duty consists in assisting\nothers with one's own property, in relieving their misery. This is called\n_benevolence_, which benevolence may be exercised in various ways, either\nby _gift_, or by _loan_. It may also be exercised in _kind,_ that is in\ngiving to others the objects necessary to their maintenance or support, or\nin money, that is, in furnishing them the means of procuring them; or in\n_work_, which is the best of all gifts; for in thus relieving others we\nprocure them the means of helping themselves.\n\nWith the duty relating to the property of others, are connected as\ncorollaries, the duties relating to the observance of agreements or\ncontracts; the transmission of property in society being not always done\nfrom hand to hand, but by means of promises and writings. To fail in\nkeeping one's promise, to pervert the sense of solemn contracts, is, on\nthe one side, to appropriate other people's property, and on the other, to\nlie and deceive, and thus to fail in a double duty.\n\n3. _Duties relating to the families of others._--We have seen above what\nare the duties of man in his family; there remains to be said a few words\ntouching the duties towards the families of others. One may fail in these\nduties either by violating the conjugal bond, which is _adultery_; or by\ncarrying off other people's children, which is _abduction_, or by\ndepraving them through bad advice or bad examples, which is _corruption_.\n\n4. _Duties relating to the honor of others._--One may fail in these\nduties, either by saying to a man (who does not deserve it), wounding and\nrude things to his face, which are _insults_, or in speaking ill of\nothers; and here we distinguish two degrees: if what is said is true, it\nis _backbiting_; if what is said is false and an invention, it is\n_slander_. In general one must not too easily ascribe evil to other men;\nthis kind of defect is what is called _rash judgments_.\n\nThe _positive_ duty respecting other people's reputation is to be just\ntowards every one, even towards one's enemies; to speak well of them if\nthey deserve it, and even of those who speak ill of us. It is a duty to\nentertain a kindly disposition towards men in general, provided this does\nnot go so far as to wink at wrong. In our relations with our neighbors,\nusage of the world has, in order to avoid quarrels and insults, introduced\nwhat is called _politeness_, which, for being a worldly virtue, is not the\nless a necessary virtue in the order of society.\n\n5. _Duties towards the liberty of others._--These are rather the duties of\nthe State than of the individual. They consist in respecting in others the\nliberty of conscience, the liberty of labor, individual liberty, personal\nresponsibility, all of which are the _natural rights_ of man. However,\nprivate individuals may themselves also fail in this kind of duties. The\nviolation of the liberty of conscience is called _intolerance_; it\nconsists either in employing force to constrain the consciences, or in\nimputing bad morals or bad motives to those who do not think as we do. The\nvirtue opposed to intolerance is _tolerance_, a disposition of the soul\nwhich consists, not in approving what we think false, but in respecting in\nothers what we wish they should respect in us, namely, conscience. One may\nalso violate individual liberty, the liberty of labor, in keeping one's\nfellow-beings in _slavery_; but slavery is rather a social institution\nthan an individual act. However, there may be cases where one may seek to\ninjure other people's work, in restraining others by threats from work;\nwhich, for example, takes sometimes place in workmen's strikes. There is\nalso a certain way of domineering over the freedom of others without\nrestraining it materially, which constitutes real _tyranny_; it is the\ndominion which a strong will exercises over a feeble will, and of which it\ntoo often is tempted to take advantage. On the contrary, it is a duty,\nnot only to respect the liberty of others, but also to encourage it, to\ndevelop it, to enlighten it through education.\n\n6. _Duties relating to friendship._--All the preceding duties are the same\ntowards all men. There are others which concern more particularly certain\nmen, those, for example, to whom we are attached either by congeniality of\ndisposition or uniformity of occupation, or a common education, etc.,\nthose, namely, whom we call _friends_. The duties relating to friendship\nare: 1, to choose well one's friends; to choose the honest, and\nenlightened, in order to find in their society encouragement to\nright-doing. Nothing more dangerous than pleasure-friends or interested\nfriends, united by vices and passions, instead of being united by wisdom\nand virtue; 2, the friends once chosen, the reciprocal duty is _fidelity_.\nThey should treat each other with perfect _equality_ and with\n_confidence_. They owe each other _secrecy_ when they mutually entrust\ntheir dearest interests; they owe each other _self-devotion_ when they\nneed each other's help. Finally, they owe to each other in a more strict\nand rigorous a sense, all they generally owe to other men, for the faults\nor crimes against humanity in general assume a still more odious character\nwhen against friends.\n\n=21. Professional duties and civic duties.=--Such are the general duties of\nmen in relation to each other, when simply viewed as men. But these duties\nbecome diversified and specialized according as we view man either in the\nlight of the private functions he fills in society, which are his\n_professional_ duties, or in the light of the particular society of which\nhe is a member, and which is called the _State_ or the country, and these\nare the _civic_ duties. (See chapters xii. and xiii.)\n\n=22. Distinction between the duties of justice and the duties of\ncharity.=--We have said above that all the social duties could be reduced\nto these two maxims: \"Do not do unto others what you do not wish they\nshould do to you. Do to others as you wish to be done by.\" These two\nmaxims correspond with what is called: 1, the duties of _justice_; 2, the\nduties of _charity_.\n\nThe first consists in not doing wrong, or at least in repairing the wrong\nalready done. Charity consists in doing good, or at least in giving to\nothers what is not really their due. A celebrated writer[13] has made a\nvery subtle and forcible distinction between these two virtues:\n\n\"The respect for the rights of others is called justice. All violation of\nany right whatsoever is an injustice. The greatest of injustices, since it\ncomprises all, is slavery. Slavery is the subjugation of all the faculties\nof a man for the benefit of another. Moral personality should be respected\nin you as well as in me, and for the same reason. In regard to myself it\nhas imposed a duty on me; in you it becomes the foundation of a right, and\nimposes thereby, relatively to you, a new duty on me. I owe you the truth\nas I owe it to myself, and it is my strict duty to respect the development\nof your intelligence and not arrest its progress towards the truth. I must\nalso respect your liberty; perhaps even I owe it to you more than I do to\nmyself, for I have not always the right to prevent you from making a\nmistake.\n\n\"I must respect you in your affections, which are a part of yourself; and\nof all the affections none are more holy than those of the family. To\nviolate the conjugal and paternal right is to violate what a person holds\nmost sacred.\n\n\"I owe respect to your body, inasmuch as belonging to you, it is the\ninstrument of your personality. I have neither the right to kill you nor\nto wound you, unless in self-defense.\n\n\"I owe respect to your property, for it is the product of your labor; I\nowe respect to your labor, which is your very liberty in action; and if\nyour property comes from inheritance, I owe respect to the free will which\nhas transmitted it to you.\n\n\"Justice, that is, the respect for the person in all that constitutes his\npersonality, is the first duty of man towards his fellow-man. Is this duty\nthe only one?\n\n\"When we have respected the person of others, when we have neither put a\nrestraint upon their liberty, nor smothered their intelligence, nor\nmaltreated their body, nor interfered with their family rights nor their\nproperty, can we say that we have fulfilled towards them all moral duties?\nA wretch is here suffering before us. Is our conscience satisfied if we\ncan assure ourselves that we have not contributed to his sufferings? No;\nsomething tells us that it would be well if we should give him bread,\nhelp, consolation; and yet this man in pain, who, perhaps, is going to\ndie, has not the least right to the least part of our fortune, were this\nfortune ever so great; and if he were to use violence to take a farthing\nfrom us, he would commit a crime. We shall meet here a new order of duties\nwhich do not correspond to rights. Man, we have seen, may resort to force\nto have his rights respected, but he cannot impose on another a sacrifice,\nwhatever that may be. Justice _respects_ or _restores_: charity _gives_.\n\n\"One cannot say that to be charitable is not obligatory; but this\nobligation is by no means as precise and as inflexible as justice. Charity\nimplies sacrifice. Now, who will furnish the rule for sacrifice, the\nformula for self-renunciation? For justice, the formula is clear: to\nrespect the rights of others. But charity knows neither rule nor limits.\nIt is above all obligation. Its beauty is precisely in its liberty.\"\n\nIt follows from these considerations that justice is absolute, without\nrestriction, without exception. Charity, whilst it is as obligatory as\njustice, is more independent in its applications; it chooses its place and\nits time, considers its objects and means. In a word, as Victor Cousin\nsays, \"its beauty is in its liberty.\"\n\nLet us not hesitate to borrow from the Apostle St. Paul his admirable\nexaltation of charity:\n\n\"Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not\ncharity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.\"\n\n\"And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and\nall knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove\nmountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.\"[14]\n\n\"And though I bestowed all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my\nbody to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.\"\n\n\"Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity\nvaunteth not itself; is not puffed up.\"\n\n\"Doth not behave itself unseemely; seeketh not her own; is not easily\nprovoked; thinketh no evil.\"\n\n\"Beareth all things; believeth all things; endureth all things.\"[15]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nDUTIES OF JUSTICE--DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAN LIFE.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =Division of the duties of justice.=--Four kinds of duties: 1, towards\n    the life of others; 2, towards the liberty of others; 3, towards the\n    honor of others; 4, towards the property of others.\n\n    =Duties towards human life.=--Avoid homicide, acts of violence, and\n    mutilation. Pascal and the _Provinciales_.\n\n    =The right of self-defense.=--Right to oppose force to force. Limits of\n    this right.\n\n    =Problems.=--Four very grave problems are bound up in the question of\n    self-defense: 1, the penalty of death; 2, political assassination; 3,\n    the duel; 4, war.\n\n    =The penalty of death.=--The penalty of death is the right of\n    self-defense exercised by society: it is just so far as it is\n    efficacious.\n\n    =Political assassination.=--Murder is always a crime, under whatever\n    pretext it may conceal itself.\n\n    =The duel.=--The duel is at the same time a _homicide_ and a _suicide_;\n    it is falsely considered justice, since it appeals to chance and\n    skill.\n\n    =War.=--War is the only mode of self-defense existing among nations; it\n    is desirable for the sake of humanity that it may some day disappear;\n    but humanity cannot now exact this sacrifice of the country.\n\n\n=23. Division of social duties.=--According to the foregoing distinctions,\nwe will first divide duties into _duties of justice_ and _duties of\ncharity_.\n\nLet us begin by expounding the duties of justice.\n\nThese duties may be summed up in a general manner in _the respect for the\nperson of others_, and for all that is necessary for the preservation and\ndevelopment of that person. Hence four kinds of duties:\n\n    1. Towards the life of other men.\n\n    2. Towards their liberty.\n\n    3. Towards their honor.\n\n    4. Towards their property.\n\nBesides these duties, purely negative, which consist only in doing others\nno harm, there are also the duties of justice, which may be called\n_positive_; and which consist not only in not injuring others, but also in\ngranting each what he has a right to. This is called _distributive_ or\n_remunerative_ justice, and is the duty of all those who have others under\nthem, and who are commissioned to distribute rewards, titles, or\nfunctions.\n\n=24. Duties towards the life of men.=--We have seen above that\nself-preservation is the duty of every one, and that one should not\nattempt one's own life, nor mutilate one's self, nor injure one's health.\nNow, all these obligations which we have towards ourselves, we have\nequally towards others; for that which each owes to himself, he owes it to\nhis quality, as _man_, to his quality as a free and reasonable being, a\n_moral person_. It is, as Kant says, humanity itself that each one must\nrespect in his own person; and it is also humanity which each must respect\nin others. We should not do to others what we do not wish that they should\ndo to us, or what we should not wish to do to ourselves. Now, no one\nwishes others to attempt his life; no one should wish to attempt it\nhimself. For the same reason he should not wish to attempt the life of\nothers.\n\nThese are such self-evident considerations that it is useless to insist on\nthem. Let us add that this duty rests, besides, on one of the most\npowerful instincts of humanity, the instinct of sympathy for other men,\nthe horror of their sufferings, the horror of spilt blood. Those who are\nwanting in this sentiment are like monsters in the midst of humanity.\n\nOne of the corollaries of this principle is to avoid the blows and wounds\nwhich might, through imprudence and unexpectedly, cause death, and which,\nbesides, are in themselves to be condemned, inasmuch as they contribute,\nif not towards destroying, at least towards mutilating, the person and\nrendering it unfitted to fulfil its duties and functions. In a word, to\navoid scuffles, bodily quarrels, which are unworthy, moreover, from their\nvery brutality, of a reasonable being; all this is comprised in the duty\nof avoiding homicide. All may be summed up in these words of the\nDecalogue: \"_Thou shalt not kill_.\"\n\nPascal, in his letter on homicide (xiv. _Provinciale_), expressed most\neloquently the duty concerning the respect for human life:\n\n    \"Everybody knows, my fathers, that individuals are never permitted to\n    seek the death of any person, and that, even if a man should have\n    ruined us, maimed us, burnt our houses, killed our parents, and was\n    preparing to murder us, to rob us of our honor, that our seeking his\n    death would not be listened to in a court of justice. So that it was\n    necessary to establish public functionaries who seek it in the name of\n    the king, or rather in the name of God. Suppose, then, these public\n    functionaries should seek the death of him who has committed all these\n    crimes, how would they proceed? Would they plunge the dagger in his\n    breast at once? No; the life of man is too important; they would\n    proceed with more consideration; the law has not left it subject to\n    the decision of all sorts of people; but only to that of the judges,\n    whose integrity and sufficiency have been ascertained. And think you\n    that one alone is enough to condemn a man to death? No; there are at\n    least seven required; and among these seven there must not be any one\n    whom the criminal has in any way offended, for fear that his judgment\n    be affected, or corrupted by anger. In short, they can judge him only\n    upon the testimony of witnesses, and according to the other forms\n    prescribed to them; in consequence of which they can conscientiously\n    pronounce upon him only according to law, or judge worthy of death\n    only those whom the law condemns.\"\n\nAfter having thus expounded the innumerable precautions which society has\ntaken, out of respect for human life, touching the persons of criminals,\nPascal continues as follows:\n\n    \"Behold in what way, in the order of justice, the life of man is\n    disposed of; let us see now how _you_ dispose of it.[16] In your new\n    laws there is but one judge, and this judge is the offended party. He\n    is at the same time judge, accuser, and executioner. He seeks himself\n    the death of his enemy; he commands it, he executes him on the spot;\n    and, without respect for either the body or soul of his brother, he\n    kills and damns him for whom Christ died; and all this to avenge an\n    affront, or slander, or an insulting word, or other similar offences\n    for which a judge, although clothed with legal authority, would be\n    considered a criminal if he should condemn to death those who had\n    committed them, because the laws themselves are very far from\n    condemning them.\"\n\nFinally, gathering into one word all the evils which homicide comprises,\nPascal ends by saying \"homicide is the only crime which at the same time\ndestroys the State, the Church, nature, and piety.\"\n\n=25. The right of self-defense.=--None of the foregoing principles would\npresent the shadow of a difficulty to any except those who are nearer the\nbrute than man, if it were not for an apparent exception to the rule,\nwhich is the _case of legitimate self-defense_. To understand properly the\nsolution of this question, it is necessary to examine carefully the nature\nof the relations which bind men to each other.\n\nEvery man is a _moral person_; that is to say, a free being, and for that\nvery reason inviolable in his dignity and in his rights. He is, as Kant\nsays, an _end to himself_, and should not be treated as a _means_. The\nthings of nature are to us but means to satisfy our wants; we may\ntherefore mutilate and destroy them, not as our whims may dictate, but as\nour wants require. Thus can we cut the finest trees of a forest to make\nfire of, or for furniture. We even claim a similar right over animals,\nalthough it may, perhaps, not be so evident. But we have no such right\nover man. We can neither mutilate nor destroy him for our use.\n\nAnd, in fact, to destroy or mutilate through sheer force a member of\nhumanity, is to apply to him the law of compulsion, which is the law of\nphysical nature, and which without reserve governs all physical\nphenomena: it is to make of man _a thing of nature_, to see in him the\nbody only, and ignore the soul.\n\nThe consequence of such conduct is evident: it is that whosoever employs\nagainst another the law of compulsion means thereby that he does not\nrecognize between himself and other men any other law but that. Treating\nthem as if they were purely physical agents, he gives us thereby to\nunderstand that he recognizes himself, and expects to be treated, as such;\nhe means to take advantage of his strength as long as he is the strongest,\nbut gives us to understand thereby that he is satisfied to submit to\nstrength if he is the weaker.\n\nIt is here that the _right of self-defense_ comes in. He who is violently\nattacked, has the right to oppose to violence just as much strength as\nthere is employed against him. Otherwise, in allowing himself to be\nknocked down by strength, he would consent to the abasement, to the\nsuppression of his own personality; he would in some respect be the\naccomplice of the violence he is made to suffer. Some Christian sects,\nstraining this point, go so far as to condemn absolutely the right of\nself-defense; they do not see that this would infallibly bring with it the\ntriumph of brute force, and the suppression of all justice. Such sects\nmay, to a certain extent, manage to exist in civilized societies; but the\nprinciple is self-destructive, since not to resist violence is in some\nrespect to be its accomplice.\n\nYet, whilst admitting the right of self-defense, it is necessary to\nrecognize its limits. \"This agent,\" says M. Renouvier, \"whom the right of\nself-defense treats as a brute, this being is a man, nevertheless, or has\nbeen one, or may become such. Hence the doctrine of conscience is to admit\nthis right only when necessary, and not beyond what is necessary.\" (_Moral\nScience_, Ch. LVI.) This is, to begin with, a natural consequence of the\nduties towards one's self, since it is already a surrender of one's\ndignity to be obliged to act in the capacity of a physical agent, and\nrenounce one's character of a moral person; it is also a duty towards\nhumanity in general, which is represented by every man, even the most\nviolent and the most uncultivated.\n\n=26. Problems.=--The right of legitimate self-defense gives rise to a\ncertain number of problems relative to the law of homicide. M. Jules\nSimon[17] reduces them to five: homicide in case of self-defense, penalty\nof death, political assassination, duel, and war. In the first case it is\nimplied in what precedes, that legitimate self-defense may go so far as to\ndeprive another man of life; but only in case of absolute necessity.\n\nThere remain the four other cases, which are not all of the same order.\n\n=27. The penalty of death.=--The penalty of death in these days has been\nvery much contested, and several States have tried to abolish it.[18]\n\nThe following arguments are brought to bear against it:\n\n1. _The inviolability of human life._--The State, it is said, should not\ngive the example of what it proscribes and punishes. Now, it punishes\nhomicide; then it should not itself commit homicide.\n\n2. The possible _mistakes_, which in all other cases can be corrected, but\nwhich in this case alone are irreparable.\n\n3. _Experience_, which, it is said, tells against it in certain countries\nby proving that the number of crimes has not been increased by the\nsuppression of the penalty of death.\n\n4. Finally, the _refinement of manners_, which can no longer bear the idea\nof capital punishment.\n\nNo one of these arguments is wholly decisive.\n\n1. The inviolability of human life is not an absolute thing, at least not\nfor those who admit the right of legitimate self-defense. We shall examine\nthis presently.\n\n2. Judiciary mistakes are very rare, and will become more and more so, as\njustice becomes more respectful towards the rights of the accused, and\nthrough greater publicity, by the intervention of a jury, etc.\n\n3. Experience is not so much of a test as it is said to be, and is often\nmade on too small a scale. The attempts at abolition have not been very\nnumerous. In Tuscany murders have always been very rare on account of the\ngentleness of manners. In Switzerland, on the contrary, crime is on the\nincrease, and certain cantons have asked for a return to the death\npenalty. Besides, it is a very difficult experiment to make. How could a\nsociety as complicated as ours dare to trust its security to so hazardous\nan experiment?\n\n4. The refinement of manners may gradually bring about, thanks to the\ninstitution of the jury, the diminution, perhaps some day the suppression,\nof the penalty of death, without its being necessary for the State to lay\naside this powerful means of defense and intimidation.\n\nThe penalty of death, in fact, can be considered legitimate only in the\nlight of the right of self-defense. If society needs this penalty to\nprotect the life of its members, it may be said that it is authorized to\nuse it, on the same ground as each individual to whom we have conceded the\nright to repel force by force, and to deprive of his own life one who\nshould threaten to take _his_ life.\n\nBut, it will be objected, the right of self-defense, when ending in\nhomicide, is justifiable only at the moment of the attack, and to ward off\na sudden aggression itself threatening murder; but the deed once committed\nand the criminal in the hands of the law, there is no reason to fear a new\naggression from him, and his chances of escape from justice through\nevasion are too few to justify the violation of a duty so absolute as the\nrespect for human life.\n\nIt may be answered that society, by the death penalty, not only defends\nitself against the criminal himself, but against all those who might be\ninclined to imitate him. The penalty of death is above all a precautionary\nmeans of defense, that is to say, a means of intimidation. The future\ncriminal is warned beforehand of the risks he runs; he accepts voluntarily\nthe punishment he will incur. If society should catch him in the\nact--_flagrante delicto_--it would certainly, in order to prevent the\ncrime, since it is the representative of all individuals, have the same\nrights as the individual of defending himself. But the difficulty of\nseizing upon the criminal at the moment of commission, can it be\nconsidered a circumstance in favor of the criminal, and does society lose\nits right, because, through the skill and precautions of assassins, it can\nbut very rarely, and scarcely ever, catch them in the act?\n\nThe right of society to defend itself by the death penalty does not seem\nto us, then, to admit any doubt. The whole question is to know whether\nsuch a means of defense is really necessary and efficacious. It is, as we\nhave said, a question of experience which it is very difficult to settle,\nfor the reason that we dare not make the experiment. All that can be said\nis that, as a principle, every man fears death; it is the greatest of\nfears. There is, therefore, reason to believe that it is the most powerful\nof the means of intimidation. Besides, it is known that professional\ncriminals estimate with great accuracy offenses and crimes proportionably\nto their penalties. Thus, those who steal know that they expose themselves\nto such or such punishment, but they go no farther in order not to incur a\nmore severe punishment; for these the penalty of death is certainly a\ngreat item in their plans, and it would be dangerous to relieve them of\nthis menace.\n\nWe do not mean to say that in future society may not reach a state of\norganization strong and enlightened enough to be able to do without such\nmeans; but in the present state of things we should consider the attempt\nto abolish them dangerous for society.\n\n=28. Of political assassination.=--Concerning this pretended right, so\nshockingly promulgated in these days by savage factions, we cannot do\nbetter than quote the words of M. Jules Simon in his book on _Duty_:\n\n    \"Political assassination,\" he says, \"is essentially worthy of\n    condemnation from whichever side one looks at it. It has the same\n    origin as the penalty of death, with this double difference that, in\n    the application of the penalty of death, it is the State that\n    pronounces the sentence conformably to the law, whilst in political\n    assassination it is the same man who makes the law, pronounces the\n    sentence, and executes it. Now, society, though badly constituted, and\n    the law, though bad, are nevertheless a guaranty, whilst there is none\n    at all against the caprice, passion or false judgment of a single\n    individual. Besides, the legitimacy of the penalty of death is\n    connected with the legitimacy of the power that pronounces it, and the\n    uniformity of the law. Let some tyrannical authority cause a man to be\n    shot at the corner of a street, without form of legal process, that\n    cannot be called penalty of death; it is called murder; and even when\n    the victim should have deserved his death, the government would not be\n    the less criminal for having executed him without trial. If these\n    principles are just, how can we admit the theory of political\n    assassination, which allows the destiny of all to depend upon the\n    conscience of a single individual. We reflect so little upon the\n    rights of men that there are those who will condemn the death penalty\n    and yet approve of political assassination. We judge so badly, that\n    under the Restoration a monument was erected to Georges Cadoudal, and\n    we hear every day the eulogy of Charlotte Corday. The guiltiness of\n    the victim does not legitimate the act of the murderer. It is both\n    unwise and criminal to furnish hatred with such excuses.\"\n\n=29. The duel.=--Does the duel come under the head of legitimate\nself-defense? No; whatever custom and prejudice may say in its favor.\n\n1. We must first lay aside without discussion all duels bearing on\nfrivolous causes, and they are the largest in number.\n\n2. In many other cases reparation may be obtained through the law, and\nprejudice alone can prevent having recourse to it. If I am willing to have\nrecourse to law in a case of robbery, why should I not appeal to this same\nlaw when my honor is attacked?\n\n3. The duel is an absurd form of justice, because it puts the offender\nand the one offended on the same level. It is not the guilty one that is\npunished; it is the awkward one.\n\n4. Social justice has degrees of penalty in proportion to the gravity of\nthe offense, and is applied only after a very severe examination. The aim\nof the duel is to apply to very unequal offenses one and the same penalty,\ndeath (Jules Simon, _Le Devoir_, IV.), or if there are any degrees, since\nit does not always result in death, these degrees are the effect of\nchance. Finally, if in a duel the parties agree to use skill enough to\nhurt each other as little as possible, is it not as if they confessed to\nthe injustice and insanity of the proceeding?\n\n5. The duel had its origin in superstition: in the _Combat of God_, in the\nbelief, namely, that God himself would arbitrate by means of the combat,\nand give the victory to the innocent and strike the guilty.\n\n6. The duel is a homicide or a suicide. It is, therefore, contrary to the\nduty towards others and the duty towards ourselves. Finally, the duel is\ncontrary to the duty towards society, which forbids each to be his own\njudge.\n\nJ. J. Rousseau, in the _Nouvelle Heloise_, has written on the duel and\nsuicide (see further on, Chapter xi.) a letter often quoted, of which we\nwill briefly give the principal passages.\n\n1. One must distinguish between real honor and apparent honor:\n\n    What is there in common between the glory of killing a man and the\n    testimony of a righteous soul? What hold can the vain opinion of\n    others have upon true honor, the roots of which are in the depths of\n    the heart? What! the lies of a slanderer can destroy real virtues? Do\n    the insults of a drunkard prove that one deserves them? And can the\n    honor of a sensible man be at the mercy of the first ruffian he meets?\n\n2. The use of force cannot be a title to virtue:\n\n    Will you tell me that one must show courage, and that courage suffices\n    to efface the shame and reproach of all other vices? In this case a\n    rogue would have but to fight a duel to cease to be a rogue; the words\n    of a liar would become true if maintained at the point of a sword; and\n    if you were charged with having killed a man, you would go and kill a\n    second one to prove that the charge is not true. Thus, virtue, vice,\n    honor, infamy, truth, falsehood, all derive their being from the event\n    of a fight; a fencing-hall becomes the seat of all justice; might\n    makes right.\n\n3. Antiquity, so rich in heroes and great characters, knew nothing of the\nduel. There may then exist societies civilized and refined where a man may\ndefend his honor without having to resort to the duel. This is a\nremarkably striking argument:[19]\n\n    Did ever the valiant men of antiquity think of avenging their personal\n    insults by single combats? Did Caesar send a challenge to Cato, or\n    Pompey to Caesar? \"Other times, other manners,\" you'll say, I know, but\n    true honor does not vary; it does not depend on times or places or\n    prejudices; it can neither pass away nor be born again; it has its\n    eternal source in the heart of the just man and in the unalterable\n    rule of his duties. If the most enlightened, the bravest, the most\n    virtuous nations of the earth knew nothing of the duel, I say that it\n    is not an institution of honor, but rather a frightful and barbarous\n    fashion worthy of its savage origin.\n\n4. It is not true that a man of honor incurs contempt by refusing a duel:\n\n    The righteous man whose whole life is pure, who never gave any sign of\n    cowardice, will refuse to stain his hand by a homicide, and will be\n    only the more honored for it. Always ready to serve his country, to\n    protect the feeble, to fulfil the most dangerous duties, and defend in\n    all just and honest encounters, and at the price of his blood, what he\n    holds dear, he will reveal in all his transactions that resolute\n    firmness which always accompanies true courage. In the security of his\n    conscience he walks with head erect; he neither flies from nor seeks\n    his enemy; one can easily see that he fears less to die than to do\n    wrong, and that it is not danger he shuns, but crime.\n\n=30. War.=--War is the most serious and the most solemn exception to the\nlaw which forbids homicide. Not only does it permit homicide, but it\ncommands it. The means thereto are prepared in public; the art of\npracticing them is a branch of education, and it is glorious to destroy as\nmany enemies as possible.\n\nOne cannot fail to see the sad side of war, and how contrary it is to the\nideal tendencies of modern society. It is still to be hoped that there\nwill come a time when nations will find a more rational and more humane\nmeans of conciliating their differences. But there is no indication of\nthis good time as yet, nor even that it is near, and it is necessary to\nguard against a false philanthropy, which would imperil the sacred rights\nof patriotism.\n\nThe problem of war in itself belongs rather to the law of nations than to\nmorality properly so called. It will be in studying later the relations of\nthe nations between each other that we shall have to establish as a rule\nthat the right of self-defense exists for them as well as for the\nindividual. The only question in a moral point of view is to know whether\nthe individual, by the sole fact of the order of society, is released from\nthe duty imposed on him not to shed blood. Some religious sects in the\nearly times of Christianity, others in modern times in England and in\nAmerica (the Quakers), believe that the interdiction of homicide is an\nabsolute thing; they claim the right to be exempt from military duty. The\nState, of course, never recognized the legitimacy of such a scruple, which\nwould prevent all social subordination and deprive the defense of the\ncountry of all its strength. But neither does morality recognize such a\nright. As a part of a society which is commissioned to defend us, and\nwhich can do so only by using force, it is evident that each one should\nshare in the acts by which it undertakes to defend us. For how can\nmalefactors be prosecuted without employing force? The same may be asked\nas to enemies from without. Now, as society defends every one equally, it\ncannot make any exception in favor of such or such scruple. It can grant\nexemptions, but cannot admit that each should exempt himself by the\nscruples of his conscience.\n\nCertainly it ought not to be maintained that any order given by society\nreleases the individual conscience from all consideration. But obedience\nto the law is the foundation of social order, and co-operation in the\npublic defense is a duty of absolute necessity. Of course one assumes in\nthis view implicitly the legitimacy of war; but this question will be\ntreated later on by itself, and in accordance with the reasons belonging\nto it.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nDUTIES CONCERNING THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =Of property.=--Its fundamental principle; work sanctioned by law.\n    Communistic Utopia.--Inequality of wealth: it is founded on nature,\n    but should not be aggravated by the law.--Different forms of the\n    rights of property: _loans_, _trusts_, _things lost_, _sales_,\n    _property properly so called_.\n\n    =Loan.=--Is it a duty to loan?--The _interest_ of money.--The question\n    of usury.--Duties of _creditor_ and _debtor_.--_Failures_ and\n    _bankruptcies_.--The commodate or things loaned for use.\n\n    =Trust.=--Duties of the _depositary_ and the _deponent_.\n\n    =Of the possession in good faith.=--_The thing lost._\n\n    =Sales.=--Obligations of _seller_ and _buyer_.\n\n    =Of property in general.=--Violation of property or _theft_.--The\n    elements which constitute theft.--_Simple_ thefts and _qualified_\n    thefts.--_Abuse of confidence_, _swindling_.--Restitution.\n\n    =Promises and contracts.=--Differences between these two facts.--Strict\n    obligation to keep one's promises: rare exceptions (practical\n    impossibility, illicit promises, etc.)--Different _kinds_ of\n    contracts.--_Conditions_ of the contract: consent, capacity of\n    contracting parties, a real object, a licit cause.--Rules for the\n    formation of contracts.--Rules for the interpretation of contracts.\n\n\nThe immediate consequence of the right of self-preservation which each\nhas, etc., implies the _right of property_.\n\n=31. Property.=--What is property? What is its origin and principle? What\nobjections has it raised? What moral and social reasons justify it,\nrendering its maintenance both sacred and necessary?\n\n\"Property,\" says the civil code, \"is the right to enjoy and dispose of\nthings in the most absolute manner, provided no use is made of them\nprohibited by the laws or the rules.\" (Art. 544.)\n\n\"The right of property,\" says the Constitution of '93, \"is that which\nbelongs to every citizen: to enjoy, and dispose at will of his property,\nhis income, of the fruit of his labor and industry.\" (Art. 8.)\n\nThese are the judicial and political definitions of property.\nPhilosophically, it may be said, that it is the right each man has to make\nsomething _his own_, that is to say, to attribute to himself the\n_exclusive_ right to enjoy something outside of himself.\n\nWe must distinguish between _possession_ and _property_. Possession is\nnothing else than _actual custody_: I may have in my hands an object that\nis not mine, which has either been loaned to me, or which I may have\nfound; this does not make me its proprietor. Property is the right I have\nto exclude all others from the use of a thing, even if I should not be in\nactual possession of it.\n\n=32. Origin and fundamental principle of property.=--The first property is\nthat of my own body, but thus far it is nothing else than what may be\ncalled corporeal liberty. How do we go beyond that? How do we extend this\nprimitive right over things which are outside of ourselves?\n\nLet us first remark that this right of appropriating external things rests\non necessity and on the laws of organized beings. It is evident, in fact,\nthat life cannot be preserved otherwise than by a perpetual exchange\nbetween the parts of the living body and the particles of the surrounding\nbodies. Nutrition is _assimilation_, and, consequently, _appropriation_.\nIt is, then, necessary that certain things of the external world should\nbecome _mine_, otherwise life is impossible.\n\nProperty is then _necessary_; let us now see by what means it becomes\nlegitimate.\n\nProperty has been given several origins: _occupation_, _law_, _work_.\nAccording to some, property has for its fundamental principle the _right\nof the first occupant_. It is said that man has the right of appropriating\na thing not in possession of some one else; the same as at the theatre,\nthe spectator who comes first has the right to take the best place.\n(Cicero.) So be it; but at the theatre I occupy only the place occupied by\nmy own body; I have not the right to appropriate the whole theatre, or\neven the pit. It is the same with the right of the first occupant. I have\ncertainly a right to the place my own body would occupy, but no further:\nfor where would my right then stop?\n\n    \"Will the setting one's foot,\" says J. J. Rousseau, \"on a piece of\n    common ground be sufficient to declare one's self at once the master\n    of it? When Nunez Balboa took on landing possession of the Southern\n    Sea, and of the whole of Southern America in the name of the Crown of\n    Castile, was that enough to exclude from it all the princes of the\n    world? At that rate the Catholic king had but to take all at once\n    possession in his study of the whole universe, relying upon\n    subsequently striking off from his empire what before was in\n    possession of the other princes.\" (Contrat social, liv. 1er, Ch. ix.)\n\n=The law.=--If occupation of itself alone is insufficient in founding the\nright of property, will it not become legitimate by adding to it\n_convention_--that is to say, the _law_? Property, we have seen, is\nnecessary; but if every one is free to appropriate to himself what he\nneeds, it becomes anarchy; it is, as Hobbes said, \"the war of all against\nall.\" It is necessary that the law should fix the property of each in the\ninterest of all. Property, under this new hypothesis, would then mean the\npart which public authority has fixed or recognized, whether we admit a\nprimitive division made by a magistrate, or a primitive occupation more or\nless due to chance, but consecrated by law.\n\nCertainly, the reason of social utility plays a great part in the\nestablishment and consecration of property; and it would be absurd not to\ntake this consideration into account. Certainly, even if property were\nbut a fact consecrated by time, by necessity, and by law, it would already\nby that alone have a very great authority; but we believe that that is not\nsaying enough. Property is not only a _consecrated fact_, it is also a\n_right_. It finds in the law its _guaranty_, but not its _foundation_.\n\nThe true principle of property is _work_; and property becomes blended\nwith liberty itself: \"_liberty_ and _property_,\" say the English.\n\n_Work._--If all the things man has need of were in unlimited number, and\nif they could be acquired without effort, there would be no property.\nThis, for example, takes place in the case of the atmosphere, of which we\nall have need, but which belongs to no one. But if the question is of\nthings that cannot be _acquired_ except by a certain effort (as in the\ncase of animals running wild), or even that can be _produced_ only by\nhuman effort (as a harvest in a barren ground), these things belong by\nright to him who conquers them or brings them about.\n\n    \"I take wild wheat into my hand, I sow it in soil I have dug, and I\n    wait for the earth, aided by rain and sunshine, to do its work. Is the\n    growing crop my property? Where would it be without me? I created it.\n    Who can deny it?... This earth was worth nothing and produced nothing:\n    I dug the soil; I brought from a distance friable and fertilizing\n    earth; I enriched it with manure; it is now fertile for many years to\n    come. This fertility is my work.... The earth belonged to no one; in\n    fertilizing it, I made it mine. According to Locke, nine tenths at\n    least of the produce of the soil should be attributed to human\n    labor.\"[20]\n\nIt has been said that work is not a sufficient foundation to establish the\nright of property; that occupation must be added thereto, for otherwise\nwork alone would make us the proprietors of what is already occupied by\nothers; the farmer would become the proprietor of the fields he cultivates\nfrom the fact alone that he cultivates them. Occupation is therefore a\nnecessary element of property.\n\nCertainly; but occupation itself has no value except as it already\nrepresents labor, and inasmuch as it is labor. The fact of culling a\nfruit, of seizing an animal, and even of setting foot upon a desert land,\nis an exercise of my activity which is more or less easy or difficult to\naccomplish, but which in reality is not the less the result of an effort.\nIt is, then, work itself which lays the foundation of occupation and\nconsecrates it. But when the thing once occupied has become the property\nof a man by a first work, it can no longer without contradiction become\nthe property of another by a subsequent work. This work applied to the\nproperty of others is not the less itself the foundation of property,\nnamely: the price received in exchange of work, which is called _salary_,\nand which again by exchange can obtain for us the possession of things not\nours.\n\n=33. Accumulation and transmission.=--The right of _appropriation_, founded\nas we have just seen on work, carries with it as its consequence, the\nright of _accumulation_ and that of _transmission_.\n\nIn fact, if I have acquired a thing, I can either enjoy it actually, or\nreserve it to enjoy it later; and if I have more than my actual wants\nrequire, I can lay aside what to-day is useless to me, but which will be\nuseful to me later. This is what is called _saving_; and the successive\nadditions to savings is called _accumulation_. This right cannot be denied\nto man; for that would be ignoring in him one of his noblest faculties,\nnamely, the faculty of providing for the future. In suppressing this\nright, the very source of all production, namely, work, would dry up; for\nit is his thought of the future which, above all, induces man to work to\ninsure his security.\n\nThe right of _transmission_ is another consequence of property; for if I\nhave enjoyment myself, I ought to be able to transmit it to others;\nfinally, I can give up my property to obtain in its place the property of\nothers which might be more agreeable or more useful to me; hence the right\nof _exchange_, which gives rise to what is called _purchase_ and _sale_.\nOf all transmissions, the most natural is that which takes place between a\nfather and his children: this is what is called _inheritance_. If we were\nto deprive the head of a family of the right of thinking of his children\nin the accumulation of the fruits of his labors, we should destroy thereby\nthe most energetic instigation to work there is in the human heart.\n\n=34. Individual property and the community.=--The adversaries of property\nhave often said that they did not attack property in itself, but only\n_individual_ property. The soil which, if not the principle, is at least\nthe source of all riches, belongs, they say, not to the individual, but to\nsociety; to the State, that is to say, to all, as common and undivided\nproperty: each individual is but a consumer, and receives his share from\nthe State, which alone is the true proprietor. This is what is called the\ncommunity system, or _communism_, which takes two forms, according as it\nadmits the division to be made in a manner absolutely equal among the\nco-members of the society, which is the _equality_ system (_systeme\negalitaire_); or by reason of _capacity_ and _works_. It is this form of\ncommunism which the school of Saint-Simon maintains at this day.\n\nWe need not point out the practical impossibility of realizing such a\nsystem. Let us confine ourselves to showing its essential vice. If\ncommunism means absolute equality (and true communism does), it destroys\nthe main inducement to work: for man assured of his living by the State,\nhas nothing left to stimulate him to personal effort. Work, deprived of\nthe hope of a legitimate remuneration, would be reduced to a strict\nminimum, and civilization, which lives by work, would rapidly go backward:\ngeneral wretchedness would be the necessary consequence of this state of\nthings; all would be equally poor and miserable; humanity would go back to\nits primitive state, to get from which it struggled so hard, and from\nwhich it emerged by means of work and property alone. Moreover, as it is\nabsolutely impossible to dispense with work, the State would be obliged\nto enforce it upon those whom their interest did not spontaneously incline\nto it; from being free, work would become servile, and the pensioners of\nthe State would in reality be but its slaves.\n\nAs to the inequality-communism (_communisme inegalitaire_) which\nrecommends a remuneration from the State, proportioned to merit and\nproducts, that is to say, to _capacity_ and _works_, it certainly does not\nso very seriously impair the principle of property and liberty; but, on\nthe one hand, it does not satisfy the instincts of equality,[21] which\nhave at all times inspired the communistic utopias; on the other, it\nattacks the family instincts by suppressing inheritance; now, if man is\ninterested in his own fate, he interests himself still more, as he grows\nold, in the fate of his children; in depriving him of the responsibility\nfor their destinies, you deprive him of the most energetic stimulus to\nwork; and the tendency would be, though in a lesser degree, to produce the\nsame evil of general impoverishment, as would communism properly so\ncalled. But the principal vice of all communism, whether of equality or\ninequality, is to substitute the State for the individual, to make of all\nmen functionaries, to commit to the State the destinies of all\nindividuals; in one word, to make of the State a providence.[22]\n\n=35. Inequality of riches.=--Yet there will always arise in the mind a\ngrave problem: Why are goods created for all, distributed in so unequal\nand capricious a manner? Why the rich and the poor? and if inequality must\nexist, why is it not in proportion to inequality of merit and individual\nwork? Why are the idle and prodigal sometimes rich? Why are the poor\noverwhelmed by both work and poverty?\n\nThere are two questions here: 1. Why is there any inequality at all? 2.\nWhy, supposing this inequality must exist, has it no connection with\nmerit or the work of the individual?\n\nRegarding the first point, we cannot deny, unless we should wish to\nsuppress all human responsibility, all free and personal activity--in a\nword, all liberty--we cannot deny, I say, that the inequality of merit and\nof work does not authorize and justify a certain inequality in the\ndistribution of property.\n\nBut, it is said, this inequality is not always in proportion to the work.\nIt may be answered that as civic laws become more perfect (by the\nabolition of monopoly, privileges, abuse of rights, such as the feudal\nrights, etc.,) the distribution of riches will tend to become more and\nmore in proportion to individual merit and efforts. There remain but two\nsources of inequality which do not proceed from personal work: 1,\naccidents; 2, hereditary transmission. But in regard to accidents, there\nis no way of absolutely suppressing the part chance plays in man's\ndestiny; it can only be corrected and diminished, and thereto tend the\ninstitutions of life-assurances, savings-banks, banks of assistance, etc.,\nwhich are means of equalization growing along with the general progress.\nAs to the inequality produced by inheritance, one of two things is to be\nconsidered: either the heir keeps and increases by his own work what he\nhas acquired, and thus succeeds in deserving it; or, on the contrary, he\nceases to work and consumes without producing, and in this case he\ndestroys his privilege himself without the State's meddling with it.\n\nBesides, the question is less concerning the _relative well-being_ of men\nthan their _absolute well-being_. What use would it be to men to be all\nequal if they were all miserable? There is certainly more equality in a\nrepublic of savages than in our European societies; but how many of our\npoor Europeans are there who would exchange their condition for an\nexistence among savages? In reality, social progress, in continually\nincreasing general wealth, increases at the same time the well-being of\neach, without increasing the sum of individual efforts. This\nsuperaddition of well-being is in reality gratuitous, as Bastiat has\ndemonstrated. \"Hence,\" as he says, \"with a community increasing in\nwell-being,[23] as by property ever better guaranteed, we leave behind us\nthe community of misery from which we came.\"\n\n    \"Property,\" says Bastiat, \"tends to transform onerous into gratuitous\n    utility. It is that spur which obliges human intelligence to draw from\n    the inertia of matter its latent natural forces. It struggles,\n    certainly for its own benefit, against the obstacles which make\n    utility onerous; and when the obstacle is overthrown, it is found that\n    its disappearance benefits all. Then the indefatigable proprietor\n    attacks new obstacles, and continually raising the human level, he\n    more and more realizes community, and with it equality in the midst of\n    the great human family.\"\n\n=36. Duties concerning the property of others.=--After having established\nthe right of general property, we have to expound the duties relative to\nthe property of others.\n\nThe property of others may be injured in various ways, and in different\ncases. These cases are: 1, _loans_; 2, _trusts_; 3, _things lost_; 4,\n_sales_; 5, _property_ strictly _so-called_.\n\n=37. Loans.--Debts.=--The inequality of riches is the cause that among men\nsome have need of what others possess, and yet cannot procure by\n_purchase_, for want of means. In this case, the first turn to the second\nto obtain the temporary enjoyment of the thing they stand in need of; this\nis called _borrowing_; the reciprocal act, which consists in conceding for\na time the desired object, is called _loaning_. He who borrows, and who by\nthis very act engages himself to return the thing again, is called\n_debtor_ (who owes), and he who loans is called _creditor_; he has a\ncredit on his debtor.\n\nSeveral questions spring from this, some very simple, others very\ndelicate, and often debated.\n\n=38. Rights and duties of the creditor.--Money interest.--Usury.=--And\nfirst, is it a duty to loan to any that ask you? It is evident that if it\nis a duty it can be only a duty of charity, or friendliness, but not of\nstrict justice. One is no more obliged to loan to all than to give to all.\nThe duty of loaning, like the duty of giving without discrimination, would\nbe tantamount to the negation of property; for he who would open his\nmoney-chest to all unconditionally, however rich he might be, would in a\nfew days be absolutely despoiled. Besides, the same duty weighing equally\non those who have received, they in their turn would be obliged to pass\ntheir goods over to others, and no one would ever be proprietor. In this\ncase, it would even be better to hand all property over to the State, that\nit might establish a certain order and fixity in the repartition of it.\n\nIt is this doctrine which a Father of the Church, Clement of Alexandria,\nhas expressed in these terms in his treatise: _Can any rich man be saved?_\n\n    \"What division of property could there be among men if no one had\n    anything? If we cannot fulfil the duties of charity without any money,\n    and if at the same time we were commanded to reject riches, would\n    there not be contradiction? Would it not be to say at the same time\n    give and not give, feed and not feed, share and not share?\"\n\nIt is therefore not a strict duty to loan to all; it is a form of\nbenevolence, and we must put off to another chapter (ch. vi.) the\nconditions and the degrees of this duty.\n\nBut a question which necessarily presents itself here, is to know if, when\none loans, it is a duty to deprive one's self of all remuneration; or if\nit is, on the contrary, permitted to exact a price over and beyond the sum\nloaned. This is what is called money _interest_; and when this interest is\nor appears excessive, it is called _usury_. This question, discussed\nduring the whole middle ages, was, before its true principles were\nestablished, first resolved by practice and necessity.\n\nIt is to-day evident to all sensible minds, that capital, like work, has a\nright to remuneration. Why? Because without the expectation of this\nremuneration, the possessor of the capital would forthwith consume it\nhimself or allow it to waste away without use. This will be better\nunderstood in considering the two principal forms of remuneration for\ncapital: _interest_ and _rent_. Interest and rent are both the product of\na capital loaned, but with this difference, that rent is the product of a\n_fixed_ capital (house, field, workshop); while interest is the product of\na _circulating_ capital (money or paper).\n\nThe interest of capital represents two things: 1, the deprivation of him\nwho loans, and who might consume his capital; 2, the risk he incurs, for\ncapital is never loaned except to be invested, and consequently it may be\nlost. These are the two fundamental reasons which establish the legitimacy\nof interest, despite the prejudices which have long condemned it as\n_usury_, and the utopias which would establish the _gratuity_ of\n_credit_.[24]\n\nThe principal reason against the legitimacy of interest is deduced from\nthe _sterility of money_. \"Interest,\" says Aristotle, \"is _money bred from\nmoney_; and nothing is more contrary to nature.\" But, as Bentham remarks\n(_Defense of Usury_, letter 10), \"if it be true that a sum of money is of\nitself incapable to breed, it is not the less true that with this same\nborrowed sum, a man can buy a ram and a sheep, which, at the end of a\nyear, will have produced two or three lambs.\" In other terms, as Calvin\nsays, \"it is not from the money itself that the benefit comes, it is from\nthe use that is made of it.\"\n\nIt has been said that he who _loans_ does not _deprive_ himself of his\nmoney, since he can do without it. (Proudhon, _Letters to Bastiat_, 3d\nletter.) But he does deprive himself of it, since he might have consumed\nit himself. The proof that a loan is a privation, is the pain men have in\neconomizing and in investing their money. How many men are there who, in\npossession of a sum of one hundred francs, would not rather spend it than\nplace it on interest?\n\nAs to what is called _gratuitous_ credit, it could be possible only by\nbeing reciprocal. In fact, if I loan you my house, and you loan me in\nreturn your land, supposing they are of equal value, it is evident that,\nthe one being worth as much as the other, and the two services equivalent,\nwe need not pay each other anything; for it would be only an exchange of\nmoney. But nothing can be inferred from this, touching the most usual\ncase: namely, where the capital is loaned by the possessor to him who does\nnot possess; for then there is no reciprocity, consequently no gratuity.\n\nAs to the rate of interest it varies like all values according to the law\nof supply and demand in the money market. (See the _Cours d'Economie\nPolitique_.) The greater the supply of capital the less dear it is. It is,\nthen, the increase of capital that is to diminish interest and bring about\na sort of relative gratuity. Every enterprise against capital will produce\na contrary result.\n\nAs to the rent of capital, it has generally raised fewer objections than\ninterest; for it is easier to understand that if I give myself the trouble\nto build a house, it is that it will bring me in something; but it is, on\nthe whole, the same thing, with this difference, that circulating capital,\nrunning more risks than fixed capital, seems to have a still better right\nto remuneration.\n\nThe lender has then the right to exact a certain amount over and above the\nsum loaned. Certainly, he cannot exact it, as it often occurs among\nfriends, and for very small sums. But as a principle, one is no more\nobliged to lend gratuitously, than to give to others gratuitously what\nthey need.\n\nIn admitting that the interest of money is a legitimate thing, is one\nobliged also to admit that the money-lender has a right to fix the rate of\ninterest as high as he wishes? Beyond a certain limit, will not the\ninterest become what we call _usury_?\n\nTo which may be replied:\n\n    \"1. If the one borrowing consents to pay the price, it is that this\n    service done him does not appear to him too dear. One may borrow at 20\n    and even 30 per cent., if one foresees a gain of 40. 2. Why not look\n    at the thing from the lender's standpoint? If the return of the funds\n    appears more or less doubtful, why should he not have the right to\n    protect himself?\" (_Dictionary of Politics_, by Maurice Block.)\n\nThese arguments prove, in fact, that it is impossible to determine\nbeforehand and absolutely the rate at which it may be permitted to lend,\nand there are many cases where a very high interest may be legitimate: for\ninstance, in what is called _bottomry-loan_, which consists in advances\nmade to shipping merchants on their ships; the law here sanctions very\nhigh interest, because of the exceptional risks this kind of enterprise\nruns.\n\nDoes it, however, follow, as some economists seem to think, that there is\nno occasion to speak of _usury_, properly so called, that the term\n_usurer_ is an insult, invented by ignorance, which has no real basis?\nThis we cannot admit. Political economy and morality are two different\nthings.\n\nEven if one should admit that there is no reason for legally fixing the\nrate of interest, because money is a merchandise like all others which\nshould be left to free circulation, to the free appreciation of the\nparties, it would not follow that there could be no abuse made of the\nrequired interest. Experience proves the contrary. It is not so much the\nrate of the interest which constitutes the injustice thereof, as the\nreasons and circumstances of the loan. If, taking advantage of the\npassions of youth, one loans to a prodigal, knowing him unable to refuse\nthe conditions, because he only listens to pleasure; or if, seducing the\nignorant, one dazzles him with magnificent bargains; or, lastly, if\nprofiting by the common desire among peasants to enlarge their grounds, we\nadvance them money, knowing they cannot return it, and secure thereby the\nproperty they think they are buying, in all such cases, or similar ones,\nthere is always _usury_, and morality must condemn such hateful\npractices.\n\nThe hatefulness of usury is brought into strong relief in Moliere's\ncelebrated scene in _The Miser_ (Act ii., Sc. i.):\n\n    LA FLECHE: Suppose that the lender sees all the securities, and that\n    the borrower be of age and of a family of large property, substantial,\n    secure, clear and free from any incumbrances, there will then be drawn\n    up a regular bond before a notary, as honest a man as may be found,\n    who to this effect shall be chosen by the lender, to whom it is of\n    particular importance that the bond be properly drawn up.\n\n    CLEANTE: That's all right.\n\n    LA FLECHE: The lender not to burden his conscience with any scruples,\n    means to give his money at the low rate of denier eighteen[25] (5, 9\n    per cent.) only.\n\n    CLEANTE: Denier eighteen? Jolly! That's honest indeed! No fault to\n    find there!\n\n    LA FLECHE: No. But as the said lender has not with him the sum in\n    question, and, to oblige the borrower, he will himself be obliged to\n    borrow from another at the rate of denier five (20 per cent.), it will\n    be but just that the abovesaid first borrower should pay that interest\n    without prejudice to the other, for it is only to oblige him that the\n    said lender resorts to this loan.\n\n    CLEANTE: The devil! What a Jew! What an Arab is that! That would be at\n    a greater rate than denier four (25 per cent.).\n\n    LA FLECHE: That's so: it is just what I said.\n\n    CLEANTE: Is there anything more?\n\n    LA FLECHE: But just a small item. Of the fifteen thousand francs that\n    are asked, the lender can give in cash only twelve thousand, and for\n    the thousand crowns remaining, it will be necessary that the borrower\n    take the clothes, stock, jewelry, etc., of which here is the list.\n\n    CLEANTE: The plague on him!\n\nThe next scene shows with remarkable energy the _spendthrift_ and the\n_usurer_ in conflict with each other.[26]\n\n=39. Duties of the debtor.=--After the duties of the lender and the\ncreditor, let us point out those of the borrower or the debtor. The only\nduty for him here is to return what he has borrowed: it is the duty of\n_paying one's debts_.\n\nFor a long time, the duty of paying one's debts appeared to be one of\nthose vulgar and commonplace duties intended for the generality of men,\nbut from which the great lords freed themselves easily. The poor creditors\nhave been the laughing stock in comedies.[27] But it is not doubted\nnowadays that to refuse to pay what one owes, is really taking from the\nproperty of others, and appropriating what does not belong to us.\n\nThis duty, besides, is so simple and stringent that it is necessary only\nto mention it without further development. The same principles apply to\nthe various ways in which one may make use of property, and particularly\nto the three kinds indicated in the Civil Code--the _usufruct_, the\n_usage_, and the _right of action_. The common obligation in these three\ncases, mentioned by the Code, is to use the thing belonging to others as a\n_prudent father_ would, which is to say, to use it as the proprietor\nhimself would use it, without injuring the object, and even improving it\nas much as possible. It is especially in commerce that the act of paying\none's debts, is not only more obligatory morally, but socially more\nnecessary than anywhere else. The reason of it is that commerce is\nimpossible without credit. By exacting of every merchant the payment of\ncash, the springs of exchange would dry up; besides, most of the time it\nwould be useless; for in commerce merchandise is constantly bought against\nmerchandise. It would be loss of time, loss of writing, limitation of the\nmarket. In commerce one cannot say of him who owes that he is a borrower;\nfor the next day, according to the fluctuations of demand and supply, he\nmay be the lender. But it is just because credit is indispensable in\ncommerce, that the obligations of the debtors are in some respect more\nstringent; for the greater the confidence, the more stringent the duty. So\nthat _commercial honor_ is like _military honor_--it does not admit of\nbreaking promises.\n\n=40. Failures and bankruptcies.=--However strict one should be in commerce\nin regard to keeping promises, there is nevertheless in the Code cause for\ndistinguishing two different cases of promise-breaking--failure and\nbankruptcy; and in this second case, there is _simple_ bankruptcy and\n_fraudulent_ bankruptcy.\n\nFailure is purely and simply the suspension of payments resulting from\ncircumstances independent of the will of him who fails. Bankruptcy, on the\ncontrary, is suspension of payments resulting either from imprudence or\nfrom mistakes of the bankrupt.\n\nSimple bankruptcy occurs in the following cases: 1. If the personal\nexpenses of the merchant or the expenses of his house are judged\nexcessive; 2. If he has spent large sums of money in operations of pure\nchance either in fictitious operations or extravagant purchases; 3. If\nwith the intention of putting off his failure, he has made purchases to\nsell again below par; 4. If after cessation of payment, he has paid a\ncreditor to the prejudice of all others. (Code of Commerce.)\n\nBankruptcy is called _fraudulent_, when the bankrupt has abstracted his\nbooks, misrepresented a portion of his assets, or declared himself debtor\nfor sums he does not owe.\n\nIt is useless to say that this third case is but another case of theft and\ndeserves the severest denunciation. Simple bankruptcy is already very\nculpable; and failure itself should be regarded by all merchants as a very\ngreat misfortune, which they must avoid at any cost.\n\n=41. The commodate or gratuitous loan.=--The gratuitous loan or commodate\nis a contract by which one of the parties gives to the other a thing to be\nmade use of, on the condition that it be returned after having served its\npurpose. (Code Civ., Art. 1875.)\n\nAs a fundamental principle, the receiver must return to the lender the\nvery thing he has loaned him. But in case of loss or deterioration of the\nthing loaned, resulting from the use made of it, on whom is to fall the\nloss?\n\n    \"It cannot be presumed, says Kant (Doctrine of the Law, French\n    translation, p. 146), that the lender should take upon himself all the\n    chances of loss or deterioration of the thing loaned; for it stands\n    to reason that the proprietor, besides granting to the borrower the\n    use of the thing he loans him, would not agree to _insure_ him also\n    against all risks. If, for instance, during a shower, I enter a house,\n    where I borrow a cloak, and this cloak gets to be forever spoiled from\n    coloring matters thrown upon me by mischance, from a window, or if it\n    be stolen from me in a house where I laid it down, it would be\n    considered generally absurd, to say that I had nothing else to do than\n    to send back the cloak, such as it is, or report the theft that has\n    taken place. The case would be very different if, after having asked\n    permission to use a thing, I should insure myself against the loss in\n    case it should suffer any damage at my hands, by begging not to be\n    held responsible for it. No one would think this precaution\n    superfluous and ridiculous, except perhaps the lender, supposing he\n    was a rich and generous man; for it would then be almost an offense\n    not to expect from his generosity the remission of my debt.\"\n\n=42. The trust.=--_Trust_, in general, is an act by which one receives the\nthing of another on condition to keep it and restore it in kind. (Code\nCiv., Art. 1915.)\n\nHe who deposits is called deponent (or bailor in England); he who receives\nthe trust is called depositary (in England bailee).\n\nThe obligations of the depositary are morally the same as those found in\npositive law. We have then nothing better to do here than to reproduce the\nprecepts of the Code on this matter.\n\n1. The depositary, in keeping the thing deposited with him, must exercise\nthe same care as with the things belonging to himself (Art. 1927).\n\n2. This obligation becomes still more stringent in the following cases:\n(_a_), when the depositary offers himself to receive the thing in trust;\n(_b_), when he stipulates for a compensation for the keeping of the thing\ndeposited; (_c_), when the trust is to the interest of the depositary;\n(_d_), when it has been expressly agreed upon that the depositary be\nanswerable for all kinds of mistakes (Art. 1928).\n\n3. The depositary cannot make use of the trust without the express or\npresumed consent of the deponent (Art 1929).--For example, if a library\nhas been left in my trust, it may be presumed that the deponent would not\nobject to my using it; but if the trust consists in valuable jewelry, it\ncan be only by the express wish of the deponent that I could wear it. The\ndifference is simple and easily understood.\n\n4. The depositary should not seek to know what the things deposited with\nhim are, if they have been left with him in a closed trunk or a sealed\nenvelope (Art. 1931).\n\n5. The depositary must return the identical thing he has received. Thus\nthe trust consisting in specie, must be returned in the same specie.\n\nThe obligation to restore the thing deposited in kind, and such as it was\nwhen delivered, is evident, and constitutes the very essence of the trust.\n\nHowever, we should take into account the following circumstances:\n\n1. The depositary is not held responsible in cases of insuperable\naccidents (Art. 1929).\n\n2. The depositary is only held to return the things deposited with him, in\nthe state wherein they are at the moment of restitution. Deteriorations,\nthrough no fault of his, are at the expense of the deponent (Art. 1935).\n\nSuch are the obligations of the depositary; as to those of the deponent,\nthey resolve themselves into the following rule:\n\nThe deponent is held to reimburse the depositary for any expense he may\nhave incurred in the keeping of the trust, and to indemnify him for any\nloss the trust may have occasioned him (Art. 1947).\n\n=43. Possession in good faith.=--Possession in good faith is analogous to\ntrust. In fact, he who possesses in good faith a thing that is not his, is\nin reality but a depositary, but he is so without knowing it. Hence\nanalogies and differences between these two cases, which it is well to\npoint out.\n\nThe following are some rules proposed on this subject by Grotius (De la\npaix et de la guerre, B. 11, ch. xii., Sec. 3); and Puffendorf (Droit de la\nNature et des Gens, B. iv., ch. xiii., Sec. 12). But as these rules appeared\nexcessive to other jurisconsults, we give them here rather as _problems_\nthan _solutions_:\n\n1. A possessor in good faith is not obliged to restore a thing which,\nagainst his wish, has come to be destroyed or lost, for his good faith\nstood to him in lieu of property.\n\n2. A possessor in good faith is held to return not only the thing itself,\nbut also its fruits still existing in kind.\n\n3. A possessor in good faith is held to return the thing itself, and the\nvalue of the fruit thereof which he has consumed, if there is reason to\nbelieve that he would have otherwise consumed as many similar ones.\n\n4. A possessor in good faith is not held to return in kind the value of\nthe fruit he has neglected to gather or to grow.\n\n5. If a possessor in good faith, having received the thing as a present,\nshould afterwards give it to another, he is not obliged to return it,\nunless he would otherwise have given one of the same value.\n\n6. If a possessor in good faith, having acquired a thing by an onerous\ntitle, should afterwards dispose of it in some way or other, he need\nreturn but the gain it procured him.\n\nIt is necessary to remark here that in this matter morality should be more\nsevere than the strict law; for if morality demands that a possessor be\nabove all mindful of the rights of others, the law should also consider\nthe rights of him who in good faith and ignorance enjoys what belongs to\nothers. Hence, an essential difference between this case and that of the\ntrust.\n\n=44. Things lost.=--The question of things lost is related to that of\npossession in good faith. If the thing lost should fall into my hands by a\nregular acquisition, by purchase, contract, etc. (as, for instance, buying\na horse in the market), it is evident that this case comes under\npossession in good faith, and that it is the business of the law to decide\nbetween proprietor and possessor. But if I appropriate to myself the thing\nlost, knowing it to be lost, and consequently not mine, there is fraud and\nconverting to my own use the property of others. Public opinion was for a\nlong time indulgent towards this kind of appropriation. It seemed that\nluck gave a certain title to property. The difficulty, moreover, of\nfinding the true owner, seemed to give to him who had found the object a\ncertain right to it. But to-day society plays the part of intermediary,\nand assumes the duty of restoring the thing lost to its owner. It is,\ntherefore, to the authorities the object must be returned.[28]\n\nFor a long time a misjudgment of the same kind allowed wreckers a\npretended right to the objects thrown on the strand by the tempest\nfollowing a wreck.\n\n=45. Sale.=--Sale is a contract by which one of the parties engages to\ndeliver a thing, and the other to pay for it (Civ. Code, Art. 1982). There\nare, then, two contracting parties--the _seller_ and the _buyer_. They are\nsubject to different obligations.\n\n_Obligations of the seller._--The seller is held clearly to explain what\nhe engages to do. An obscure and ambiguous agreement is interpreted\nagainst the seller (Civ. Code, Art. 1602). Such is the general and\nfundamental obligation of a sale. It implies, moreover, two others, more\nparticular: 1, that of _delivering_; 2, that of _guaranteeing_ the thing\nsold.\n\nThe first is very simple, and raises only questions of fact, as in regard\nto delays, expenses of removal, etc.; it is the business of the law to\nregulate these details.\n\nThe guaranty, in a moral point of view, is of greater importance. The two\nessential principles in this matter are expressed by the Code in the\nfollowing terms:\n\n1. The seller is held to his guaranty in proportion to the concealed\ndefects of the thing sold, rendering it improper for the use for which it\nwas destined, or so diminishing this use, that the buyer would not have\nbought it, or would not have given so much for it, had he known of these\ndefects.\n\n2. The seller is not held to the obvious defects which the buyer may have\nbeen able to see himself.\n\nIt is to this question of guaranteeing the thing sold, that the\nconscience-case mentioned by Cicero, in his treatise on _Duties_, is\napplicable:\n\n    An honest man puts up for sale a house, for defects only known to him;\n    this house is unhealthy and passes for healthy; it is not known that\n    there is not a room in it where there are no serpents; the timber is\n    bad and threatens ruin; but the master alone knows it. I ask if the\n    seller who should not say anything about it to the buyers, and should\n    get for it much more than he has a right to expect, would do a just or\n    unjust thing. \"Certainly he would do wrong,\" says Antipater; \"is it\n    not, in fact, leading a man into error knowingly?\" Diogenes, on the\n    contrary, replies: \"Were you obliged to buy? You were not even invited\n    to do so. This man put up for sale a house that no longer suited him,\n    and you bought it because it suited you. If any one should advertise:\n    _Fine country-house well built_, he is not charged with deceit, even\n    though it was neither the one nor the other. And whilst one is not\n    responsible for what he says, you would make one responsible for what\n    he does not say! What would be more ridiculous than a seller who would\n    make known the defects of the thing he puts up for sale? What more\n    absurd than a public crier who, by order of his master, should cry:\n    \"Unhealthy house for sale!\"\n\nDespite Diogenes' railleries, Cicero decides in favor of Antipater and the\nmore rigorous solution. The truly honest man, he says, is he who conceals\nnothing.\n\nIf it is a fault not to reveal the defects of the thing sold, it is a\nstill graver one, and one which becomes a fraud, to ascribe to it\nqualities or advantages it has not. Cicero cites on this subject a\ncharming and well-known anecdote.\n\n    The Roman patrician, C. Canius, a man lacking neither in personal\n    attractions nor learning, having gone to Syracuse, _not on business,\n    but to do nothing_,[29] as he expressed it, said everywhere that he\n    wished to buy a pleasure-house, to which he might invite his friends,\n    and amuse himself with them away from intruders. Upon this report, a\n    certain Pythius, a Syracuse banker, came to tell him that he had a\n    pleasure-house which was not for sale, but which he offered him and\n    begged him to use as his own, inviting him at the same time to supper\n    for the next day. Canius having accepted, Pythius, who in his quality\n    of banker had much influence among people of all professions,\n    assembled some fishermen, requesting them to go fishing the next day\n    in front of his pleasure-house, giving them his orders. Canius did not\n    fail to present himself at the supper hour. He found prepared a\n    splendid banquet, and a multitude of boats before the grounds of his\n    host. Each of the fishermen brought the fish he had caught, and threw\n    them at Pythius' feet. Canius wondered: \"What means this, Pythius?\n    How! so many fish here, and so many boats!\" \"Nothing to wonder at,\"\n    says Pythius; \"all the fish of Syracuse come up here. It is here the\n    fishermen come for water. They could not do without this house.\"\n    Canius then becomes excited; he presses, solicits Pythius to sell him\n    the house. Pythius first holds back, but at last gives in. The Roman\n    patrician gives him all he asks for it, and buys it all furnished. The\n    contract is drawn up, and the bargain concluded. The next day, Canius\n    invites his friends, and comes himself early in the morning; but not a\n    boat is in sight. He inquires of the first neighbor if it was a\n    holiday with the fishermen, that he did not see any about. \"Not that I\n    know of,\" replied the neighbor; \"but they never come this way, and I\n    did not know, seeing them yesterday, what it all meant.\" Canius was no\n    less indignant than surprised. But what remedy? Aquillius, my\n    colleague and friend, had not yet established his formulas on\n    fraudulent acts.[30]\n\n=46. The price in selling.=--If we adhere to the principles of political\neconomy, the price in selling is entirely free: it depends exclusively\nupon the agreement between the vender and the buyer, and as it is said, on\nthe relation between the supply and demand. Nothing more unjust than the\nintervention of the law in commercial relations. If the buyer buys at such\nor such a price, however high, it is that he still finds it to his\ninterest to buy even at that rate. If the vender sells at such or such a\nprice, however low, it is that he cannot get more, and that it suits him\nrather to sell at that price than keep the thing.\n\nIt is then certain that the value of things being wholly relative, it is\nimpossible to determine in an absolute manner what may be called the just\nprice; for that depends on the frequency and rarity of the thing, on the\nmarket, on the wishes of the buyer, and the thousand continually varying\ncircumstances. In short, the sale taking place when one wishing to sell\nand one wishing to buy, meet each other, it seems that their accord is a\nproof that the two interested parties have come to an understanding. There\nwould, according to that, never be any unjust sale or purchase. We must\nconsequently consider the definition of commerce given by the socialist,\nCh. Fourier: \"Commerce is the art of buying for three cents what is worth\nsix, and selling for six what is worth three,\" not only as satirical and\nhyperbolical, but also as unjust and anti-scientific; for we cannot say\nwhether a thing is in itself absolutely worth six cents or three cents.\n\nDoes it follow, however, that there can never be any injustice in sale or\npurchase? If there is no _absolute_ price, there is a _medium_ price\nresulting from the state of the market. Now, the buyer may not know this\nmedium price; and it is an injustice on the part of the seller to take\nadvantage of this ignorance to sell above that. The same in the case of\nthe vender's not knowing the price of the thing he has for sale, which the\nbuyer appropriates, paying for it below its real value.\n\nBesides, whilst admitting that the prices are free, and that the law\ncannot intervene between vender and buyer, it is, however, necessary to\nadmit that there is a certain _moderation_ beyond which injustice begins,\nif not in a _legal_, at least in a _moral_ point of view. But it is for\nparticular circumstances to determine this limit; and there is no general\nrule for it. It is a case where not strict justice, but _equity_ is just.\n\n=47. Violation of the property of others.=--_Theft._--In general, every\nkind of violation of property under one form or another, is called\n_theft_, and this action is condemned by morality. It is expressed by that\nancient commandment: _Thou shalt not steal_.\n\nThe following are the various definitions of theft given by the jurists:\n\"By theft is meant every illegal usurpation of the property of\nothers.\"[31]--\"By theft is meant every fraudulent carrying off for gain a\nthing belonging to others.\"[32] Finally our Code declares that, \"whosoever\nhas fraudulently carried off anything that does not belong to him, is\nguilty of theft.\" (Penal Code, Art. 379.)\n\nIt takes, then, three elements to constitute theft: 1, _carrying off_; 2,\n_fraud_; 3, _the thing of another_.\n\nTwo kinds of theft are distinguished: the _simple_ thefts and the\n_qualified_ thefts.\n\nThe first are those in which are met the three preceding elements, but\nwithout any further aggravating circumstance. The second (qualified\nthefts) are those which to the three preceding elements add some\naggravating circumstances. These circumstances are: 1, the quality of the\nagents (servants, inn-keepers, drivers or boatmen).\n\nIt is clear that this is an aggravating circumstance by reason of the\nfacility given by the more intimate relations in which they stand with the\ninjured persons, and the greater confidence these are obliged to grant\nthem.\n\n2. _Times_ and _places_.--For example, thefts committed by night are more\ngrave than those committed by day, because it is more difficult to\nanticipate them, to catch their perpetrators, and because they place the\ninjured person in greater danger. The places that aggravate theft are: 1,\n_the fields_; 2, _inhabited houses_; 3, _edifices_ consecrated to divine\nworship; 4, _highways_, etc. It is easy to understand why these different\nplaces aggravate the crime by rendering it more easy.\n\n3. _Circumstances of execution_, as for example: 1, theft committed by\n_several_ persons; 2, theft by _breaking open_; 3, theft with an _armed_\nhand, etc.\n\nIn a word, theft becomes greater in proportion to the difficulty of\nforestalling it, and its menacing character.\n\nOne particular form of theft is _swindling_. Swindling is a sort of theft,\nsince it is a fraudulent appropriation of the thing of another. But it is\ncharacterized by the fact that it does not take place through violence,\nbut through cunning, and in deceiving the victim by fraudulent maneuvers;\nfor instance, in making him believe in the existence of false enterprises,\nin an imaginary power or credit, in calling forth the hope and fear of a\nchimerical event, etc.\n\n_Embezzlement_ is a sort of swindling, with this difference, that \"if the\ncriminal has betrayed the confidence which has been placed in him, he has\nnot solicited this confidence by criminal maneuvers.\" Among these may be\nclassed: 1, taking improper advantage of the wants of a minor; 2, misuse\nof letters of confidence; 3, embezzlement of trusts; 4, the abstraction of\ndocuments produced in court.\n\nWe have to point out still several other kinds of theft: for example,\ntheft at _gambling_ or _cheating_; theft of public moneys or peculation,\netc.\n\nIn one word, under whatever form it may be concealed, misappropriation of\nanother's goods is always a _theft_. In popular opinion it often seems, as\nif theft really takes place only when the criminal takes violent\npossession of another's property. Very often a few false appearances\nsuffice to conceal to the eyes of easy consciences the hatefulness and\nshamefulness of fraudulent spoliations. One who would scruple to take a\npiece of money from the purse of another, may have no scruple in deceiving\nstockholders with fictitious advertisements, and appropriate capital by\nfraudulent maneuvers. Theft thus committed on a large scale is still more\nculpable, perhaps, than the act of him who, through want, ignorance,\nhereditary vices, never knew of any other means of living than by theft.\n\n=48. Restitution.=--He who has taken possession of anything that belongs to\nanother, or retains it for any cause, is held to restitution as a\nreparation of his fault. This restitution must be made as soon as\npossible; otherwise it is necessary to obtain an extension of time from\nthe injured person. If the thing has been lost, restitution should no less\nbe made under some form of _compensation_. Restitution is independent of\nthe penalty attached to the damage and fault.\n\n=49. Promises and contracts.=--We have seen above that it is an absolute\nobligation for man to use language only so as to express the truth. Hence\nevery word given becomes essentially obligatory. But it is as yet only a\nduty of the man towards himself. We have to see wherein and how the word\ngiven may become a duty towards others. This is the case with _promises_\nand _contracts_.\n\n_Promises._--A promise is the act whereby one gives his word to another\neither to give him something or do something for him.\n\nAccording to jurists, a promise is obligatory only when accepted by him to\nwhom it is made.\n\n    _Pollicitation_ (promise) says Pothier,[33] produces no obligation\n    properly so called, and he who has made such a promise may, as long as\n    that promise has not been accepted by him to whom it was made, revoke\n    it; for there can be no obligation without a right acquired by the\n    person to whom it has been made and against the one under obligation.\n    Now, as I cannot of my own free will, transfer to any one a right over\n    my property, if his own will does not concur with mine in accepting\n    it; so I cannot, by my promise, grant any one a right over my person,\n    until that one's will concurs with mine in acquiring it by the\n    acceptance of my promise.\n\nIt may be true that in strict law, and from the standpoint of positive\nlaw, the promise may be obligatory only and capable of enforcement when it\nhas been accepted, and accepted in an obvious and open way; but in natural\nlaw and in morality, the promise is obligatory in itself. Of course, it is\nunderstood that the promise bears on something advantageous to him to whom\nwe make it; for if I promise some one a thrashing, it cannot be maintained\nthat I am obliged to give it to him; and if he to whom I make the promise\nwill not receive what I offer, I am by that very fact relieved from my\npromise; for one cannot give anything to another against his will; I am\nunder no obligation to him who will not receive anything from me. But if\nthe promise bears on something advantageous to any one, I am obliged to\nkeep it without asking myself whether he to whom I made it, is disposed\nto accept it; presuming still that he will accept it. It is therefore not\nthe explicit acceptance of a thing that renders the promise obligatory; it\nis the explicit refusal which relieves one of the promise; and together\nwith that it would be necessary that the refusal be absolute and not\ncontingent; for even then the promise may remain obligatory, at least in\nits general principles, while undergoing some modification in the\nexecution.\n\nIs one obliged to keep his promise when the fulfillment of it is injurious\nto those to whom it was made? \"No,\" says Cicero; for example:\n\n    Sol had promised Phaethon, his son, to fulfil all his wishes. Phaethon\n    wished to get on the chariot of his father; he got his wish, but at\n    the same instant he was struck with lightning. It would have been\n    better for him had his father not kept his promise. May we not say the\n    same of the one Theseus claimed of Neptune? This god having made him\n    the promise to grant him three wishes, Theseus wished for the death of\n    his son Hippolytus, whom he suspected of criminal love.[34] How bitter\n    the tears he shed when his wish was accomplished! What shall we say of\n    Agamemnon? He had made a vow to immolate the most beautiful object in\n    his kingdom; this was Iphigenia; and he immolated her; this cruel\n    action was worse than perjury.\n\nThe truth of this doctrine cannot be contested. However, it is necessary\nto understand this exception in the strictest sense, and not to seek in\nthe pretended interest of the person one obliges, a pretext to change\none's mind. For example, if you have promised any one a post which he\naccepts and desires, you cannot be allowed to relieve yourself of it, by\nsupposing that the post will in reality be a disadvantage to him, and that\nyou will give him a better one another time.\n\nSome other exceptions are pointed out by the moralists and jurists; for\nexample:\n\n1. Necessity relieves of all promise. If, for example, I have promised to\ngo to a meeting and am kept in bed by a serious illness, it is impossible\nfor me to go, and hence I am relieved of my promise.\n\n2. One is not obliged to perform illicit acts: \"for,\" says Puffendorf, \"it\nwould be a contradiction, to be held by civil or moral law, to perform\nthings which the civil or moral law interdicts. It is already doing wrong\nto promise illicit things, and it is doing wrong twice to perform\nthem.\"[35]\n\n3. One cannot promise what belongs to another: for I cannot promise what I\ncannot dispose of.\n\n=50. Contracts.=--A _contract_ is an agreement by which one or several\npersons engage to do or not to do a certain thing for one or several\nothers. (Code Civ., Art. 1101.)\n\n_Conditions of the contract_ (Art. 1108).--Four conditions are necessary\nto constitute a valid and legitimate agreement:\n\n    1. The _consent_ of the parties.\n\n    2. The _capacity_ of the contractors.\n\n    3. A sure _object_ as a basis for the contract.\n\n    4. A licit _cause_ in the obligation.\n\n(1.) The _consent_.--The consent is the voluntary acceptance of the\ncharges implied in the contract. It is _express_ or _implied_: express,\nwhen it is made manifest by words, writing, or any other kind of\nexpressive signs. It is implied, when, without being expressed by outward\nsigns, it may be deduced, as a manifest consequence of the very nature of\nthe thing, and other circumstances.\n\nAll consent presupposes, 1, _the use of reason_: the insane cannot\ncontract any obligation; children neither;[36] 2, _necessary knowledge_.\nTherefore all real consent excludes error, at least \"when it falls on the\nvery substance of the thing which is its object.\"[37] It is, besides, for\nthe jurists to define with precision what is to be understood by error in\nmatter of contract; 3, the liberty of the contracting parties: whence it\nfollows that consent extorted by constraint and violence is not valid.\n\n(2.) The _capacity to make a contract_ is deduced from the foregoing\nprinciples. All those who are not supposed to be able to give an\nintelligent and free consent, are incapable and cannot make contracts: for\ninstance, persons under age, persons interdicted, insane or idiots, etc.\n\n(3.) The _matter of a contract_.--\"All contract has for its object\nsomething that a certain party engages to give, or do or not do.\" It is\nevident that a contract without subject-matter and bearing on nothing, is\nvoid, and does not exist.\n\n(4.) The _cause_ of the contract must be real and legal. Contracts are\nsubject here to the same rules as are promises.\n\nThe preceding distinctions are all borrowed from the civil law; but they\nexpress no less principles of justice and equity which may be resolved\ninto the following rules:\n\n1. No one should take by surprise or extort a consent through artifice or\nviolence.\n\n2. No one should make a contract with one whom he knows to be incapable of\nunderstanding the value of the engagement he is called upon to make: for\nexample, with one under age, incapable before the law, but of whom it is\nknown that the parents will pay the debts; or with one feeble-minded,\nthough not yet an interdicted person, etc.\n\n3. No one should contract a fictitious engagement bearing on matters\nnon-existing, or such as have only an imaginary or illegal cause.\n\n_Interpretation of contracts._--Jurists give the following rules regarding\nthe interpretation of obscure clauses in contracts. The rules which are to\nguide the judge in regard to the law are the same as those which are to\nenlighten the consciences of the interested parties:\n\n\"1. One should, in agreements, find out the mutual intention of the\ncontracting parties, rather than stop at the literal sense of the words.\"\n(Art. 1156.)\n\n\"2. When a clause is susceptible of a double meaning, one should\nunderstand it in the sense in which it may have some effect, rather than\nin the one in which it would not have any.\" (Art. 1157.)\n\n\"4. That which is ambiguous is to be interpreted by what is customary in\nthe country where the contract is made.\" (Art. 1159.)\n\n\"5. One should supply in a contract its customary clauses, though they be\nnot therein expressed.\" (Art. 1160.)\n\n\"6. All the clauses of agreements are to be interpreted by one another,\ngiving each the sense which results from the entire document.\" (Art.\n1161.)\n\n\"7. If doubtful, the agreement is to be interpreted against the\nstipulator, and in favor of him who contracted the obligation.\" (Art.\n1162.)\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nDUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY AND TOWARDS THE HONOR OF OTHERS.--JUSTICE,\nDISTRIBUTIVE AND REMUNERATIVE; EQUITY.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =Liberty in general.=--Natural rights.\n\n    =Slavery.=--Arguments of J. J. Rousseau against slavery, servitude;\n    oppression of work under divers forms.\n\n    =The honor of others.=--_Backbiting_ and _slander_.\n\n    =Rash judgments.=--Analysis of a treatise of Nicole.--_Envy_; _rancor_;\n    _delation_.\n\n    =Justice, distributive and remunerative.=--To each according to his\n    merits and his works. Equity.\n\n\nAfter self-preservation, the most sacred prerogative of man is\n_liberty_--that is to say, the right of using his faculties, both physical\nand moral, without injury to others, at his own risks and perils, and on\nhis own responsibility.\n\n=51. Liberty--Natural rights.=--The word liberty sums up all that is\nunderstood by the _natural rights of man_, namely, the right to go and\ncome, or _individual liberty_; the right to use his physical faculties to\nsupply his wants, or _liberty of work_; the right to exercise his\nintelligence and reason, or _liberty of thought_; the right to honor God\naccording to his lights, or _liberty of conscience_; the right to have a\nfamily, a wife and children, or the _family right_, and finally the right\nto keep what he has acquired, or the right of property.\n\n=52. Slavery.=--The privation of all these rights, of all these liberties\nin an individual, is called _slavery_. Slavery is the suppression of the\nhuman personality. It consists in transforming man into a _thing_. It\ntakes away from him the right of property and makes of himself a property.\nThe slave is bought and sold as a thing. The fruits of his labor do not\nbelong to him; he cannot come and go at will; he can neither think nor\nbelieve freely; in some countries he is interdicted the right of\ninstructing himself; he has no family, or has one temporarily only, since\nhis wife or children may be separately sold; and since the women belong to\ntheir masters as their property, there is no bridle against the license of\npassions.\n\nAlthough slavery is at the present day well-nigh abolished in the world,\nstill as it is not yet wholly so, and as this abolition is quite recent,\nand tends constantly to be renewed under one form or another, it is\nimportant to sum up the principal reasons that show the immorality and\niniquity of this institution.\n\n=53. Refutation of slavery--Opinion of J. J. Rousseau.=--J. J. Rousseau, in\nhis _Contrat Social_ (I., iv.), combated slavery with as much profundity\nas eloquence. Let us sum up his arguments with a few citations:\n\n1. Slavery cannot arise from a contract between the master and the slave;\nfor to consent to slavery is to renounce one's manhood, of which no one\ncan dispose at his will.\n\n    To renounce one's liberty is to renounce one's manhood, and the rights\n    of humanity, even one's duties. There is no reparation possible for\n    him that renounces everything. Such a renunciation is incompatible\n    with the nature of man, and is depriving his actions of all morality,\n    and his will of all liberty.\n\n2. Such a contract is contradictory, for the slave giving himself wholly\nand without reserve, can receive nothing in return.\n\n    It is a vain and contradictory agreement to stipulate an absolute\n    authority on one side, and on the other unlimited obedience. Is it not\n    clear that one can be under no obligation towards him of whom one has\n    a right to demand everything? and does not this single condition,\n    without equivalent, without exchange, carry with it the nullity of the\n    act? For what right could my slave have against me, since all he has\n    belongs to me, and that his right being my own, this my right against\n    myself is a word without any sense.\n\n3. Even if one had the right to sell one's self, one has not the right to\nsell one's children. Slavery at least should not be hereditary.\n\n    Admitting that one could alienate himself, he could not alienate his\n    children; they are born men and free; their liberty is their own; no\n    one has a right to dispose of it but themselves.\n\n    Before they have reached the age of reason, their father may, in their\n    name, stipulate conditions for their welfare, but not give them\n    irrevocably and unconditionally over to another; for such a gift is\n    contrary to the ends of nature, and passes the rights of paternity.\n\n4. Slavery, furthermore, comes not from the right of killing in war; for\nthis right does not exist.\n\n    The conqueror, according to Grotius, having the right to kill the\n    conquered enemy, the latter may ransom his life at the expense of his\n    liberty: an agreement all the more legitimate, as it turns to the\n    profit of both.\n\n    But it is clear that this pretended right to kill the conquered\n    adversary does not result in any way from the state of war.... One has\n    a right to kill the defenders of the enemy's State as long as they\n    hold to their arms; but when they lay these down and surrender, and\n    cease to be enemies, they become simply men again, and one has no\n    longer a right on their life.\n\n    If war does not give the conqueror the right of massacring the\n    conquered, it does not give him the right of reducing them to\n    slavery.... The right of making of the enemy a slave, does not then\n    follow the right of killing him; it is then an iniquitous exchange to\n    make him buy his life at the price of his liberty, over which one has\n    no right whatsoever.\n\nMontesquieu has also combated slavery; but he has done it under a form of\nirony, which gives still greater force to his eloquence.\n\n\"If I had to defend the right we have had to make slaves of the negroes,\nthis is what I should say:\n\n\"The peoples of Europe having exterminated those of America, they were\nobliged to reduce to slavery those of Africa in order to use them to clear\nthe lands.\n\n\"Sugar would be too dear if the plant that produces it were not cultivated\nby slaves.\n\n\"The people in question are black from head to foot, and they have so flat\na nose that it is almost impossible to pity them.\n\n\"One cannot conceive that God, who is a being most wise, could have put a\nsoul, and above all a good soul, in so black a body.\n\n\"It is impossible for us to suppose that these people are men; because if\nwe supposed them to be men, one might begin to think we are not Christians\nourselves.\n\n\"Narrow minds exaggerate too much the injustice done to Africans. For if\nit were as they say, would it not have come to the minds of the princes of\nEurope, who make so many useless contracts among each other, to make a\ngeneral one in favor of mercy and of pity?\"[38]\n\n=54. Servitude--Restrictions of the liberty to work--Oppression of children\nunder age, etc.=--Absolute slavery existed in antiquity, and has\nparticularly reappeared since the discovery of America, owing to the\ndifference of the races: the black race being, seemingly, particularly\nadapted to the cultivation of the torrid zones, and endowed with great\nphysical vitality, became the serving-race _par excellence_: it has even\nbeen hunted down for purposes of procreation; hence that infamous traffic,\ncalled slave trade, and which is to-day interdicted by all civilized\ncountries.\n\nBut there existed in the Middle Ages, and has subsisted even to these\ndays, in Russia, for example, a relative slavery, less rigorous and\nodious, but which, though circumscribed within certain limits, was not the\nless a grave outrage to liberty. The serf was allowed a family, and even a\ncertain amount of money; but the ground which he cultivated could never\nbelong to him; and above all he could not leave this ground, nor make of\nhis work and services the use he wished. It was certainly less of an\ninjustice than slavery; but it was still an injustice. However, this\ninjustice exists to-day no longer than as an historical memory. Morality\nhas no longer anything to do with it.\n\nIt is the same with the restrictions formerly imposed on the freedom of\nwork under the old administration (_ancien regime_), the organization of\n_maitrises_ and _jurandes_,[39] namely, and that of corporations; the work\nwas under regulations: each trade had its corporation, which no one could\nenter or leave without permission. No one was allowed to encroach upon his\nneighbor's trade; the barbers defended themselves against the wig-makers;\nthe bakers against the pastry-cooks; hence much that was wrong, and which\nthose who regret this administration have forgotten.\n\nBut here again, it is the object of history to inquire into the good or\nthe evil of these institutions; and these questions belong rather to\npolitical economy than to morals.\n\nIt is not the same regarding the abuse made of the work of children and\nminors, or the work of women. Severe laws have forbidden such; but it is\nalways to be feared that manners get the better of the laws. The work of\nchildren and women being naturally cheaper than the work of men and\nadults, one is tempted to make use of it; but the work of children is\nimproper because it is taking advantage of and using up beforehand a\nconstitution not yet established, and also because it is thus depriving\nchildren of the means of being educated. As to girls and women, in abusing\ntheir strength, one compromises their health, and contributes thereby to\nthe impoverishment of the race.\n\nAmong the violations the liberty of work may suffer, we must not forget\nthe threats and violences exercised by the workers themselves and\ninflicted upon each other. It is not rare, in fact, in times of strikes,\nto see the workmen who do not work try to impose, by main force, their\nwill on those that are at work. Such violences, which have their source in\nfalse ideas of brotherhood (a mistaken _esprit de corps_), and in a false\nsense of honor, constitute, nevertheless, even when free from the coarse\nenmity of laziness and vice, waging war with work and honesty--a grave\nviolation of liberty; and it may be considered a sort of slavery and\nservitude to suffer them.\n\nIt is the same with the attempts by which men try to forbid to women\nfactory work, under pretext that it brings the wages down.\n\nThis reason, in the first place, is a bad one, because the woman's\nearnings come in the end all back to the family, increasing by that much\nmore the share of each. But by what right should work be prohibited to\nwoman more than to man? Certainly it would be desirable if the woman could\nstay at home, and busy herself exclusively with the cares of the\nhousehold; but in the present state of things such an ideal is not\npossible. It is then necessary that woman, who has, like man, her rights\nas a moral personality, should be allowed by her every-day work to make a\nliving, under the protection of the laws, and at her own risks and perils.\n\n=55. Moral oppression--Inward liberty and responsibility.=--The question is\nnot only one of corporal liberty, the liberty to work; the laws in a\ncertain measure provide for that, and one can appeal to their authority\nfor self-protection. But there may exist a sort of _moral bondage_, which\nconsists in the subordination of one will to another. It is here that the\nrespect we owe to others calls for a more delicate and a more strict sense\nof justice: for this sort of slavery is not so obvious, and the love we\nbear to others may be the very thing to lead us into error.\n\n=56. Violation of the honor of others--Backbiting and slander.=--Among the\nfirst rights of a man, there is one sometimes forgotten, although it is\none of the most essential, and this is his _right to honor_.\n\nIn our ignorance of most men's actions, and in all cases of the real\nmotives of these actions, it is a duty for us to respect in others what we\nwish they should respect in us: namely, our honor and our respectability.\nIn fact, it is very difficult for men to form true judgments regarding\neach other. For fear of committing an injustice, it is better not to judge\nat all than to judge wrongly.\n\nThere are two ways of violating other people's honor: _backbiting_ and\n_slander_. Backbiting consists in saying evil of others, either deservedly\nor undeservedly; but when undeservedly, and especially when one knows it\nto be so, backbiting becomes slander. Backbiting may arise from ill-will\nor thoughtlessness, and slander is the work of baseness and perfidy.\n\nBackbiting which consists in saying evil of others deservedly, is not in\nitself an injustice: there is to be recognized the right and jurisdiction\nof public opinion. The honest man should be held in greater esteem than\nthe rogue, even though the latter cannot be reached by the law.\nNevertheless, backbiting becomes an injustice through the abuse that is\nmade of it. It is not a question of severe judgments touching actions\ndeserving blame and contempt. It is a question of thoughtless and unkind\njudgments, and which we are all too easily and readily inclined to\npronounce upon others, forgetting that we deserve ourselves as many and\nseverer ones. How shall we conciliate, however, the just severity which\nvice deserves, with the spirit of kindness which charity and brotherly\nlove demand of us? On the one hand, an excess of kindness seems to weaken\nthe horror of evil, to put on the same level the honest man and the rogue;\non the other, the habit of speaking evil weakens the bonds of human\nsociety, sets men against each other, and is always, in a certain measure,\na shortcoming of sincerity; for one hardly ever tells to people's faces\nthe evil one says of them in their absence. It is not easy to find the\njust medium between these two extremes.\n\nIt may be laid down as a principle that, except the case where notorious\nvices, contrary to honor, comes into question, it is better absolutely to\nabstain from speaking evil of others. For, either the question is of\npersons one does not know, or knows imperfectly, and then one is never\nsure not to be mistaken; and most of the time one judges people on the\ntestimony of others only, or one speaks of persons whom one knows, and\nwith whom one stands in more or less friendly relations; and then\nbackbiting becomes a sort of treason. Even deserved blame should not be a\nfavorite subject of conversation: it is an unwholesome and ungenerous\npleasure to lay any stress upon the weakness of others. If, at least, one\naccepted with it the right of others to judge us with the same severity,\nsuch reciprocal liberty might prove of some utility; but the backbiter\nnowise admits that he may be himself the subject of backbiting; and at the\nvery moment when he criticises others, he would himself be very much\noffended if he learned that the same persons had, on their side, been\ndoing the same in regard to him.\n\nAs to slander, it is not necessary to say much on the subject to show to\nwhat degree it is cowardly and criminal. What makes it, above all,\ncowardly is that it is always very difficult to combat and refute slander.\nOften, and for a long time, it is not known: at the moment when one hears\nof it, it has taken roots which nothing can destroy. One does not know who\nspread it, nor whom to answer. It is, besides, often impossible to prove a\nnegative thing: namely, that one has done no harm, that one has not\ncommitted such and such an action, and said such or such a word. One\nalways confronts the well-accredited saying: \"There is no smoke without\nfire.\"\n\nThe wrong done by slander will be better understood by the description\nBeaumarchais has given of it:\n\n    \"Slander, sir--you hardly know how great a thing you hold in\n    contempt: I have seen the best of people crushed by it. Believe me,\n    there is no flat malice, no hateful story, no absurd tale which a\n    skillful mischief-maker cannot make the idlers of a large town\n    believe.... At first, a slight report, just grazing the ground as a\n    swallow does before the storm: murmuring _pianissimo_, and spinning\n    away, it launches in its course the poisoned arrow. A certain ear is\n    open to take it in, and it is deftly whispered _piano_, _piano_, to\n    the next. The harm is done; it sprouts, crawls, makes its way; and\n    _rinforzando_ from mouth to mouth, goes like wildfire; then all at\n    once, you scarcely know how, you see the slander rise before you,\n    whistling, blowing, growing while you look at it. It starts, takes its\n    flight, whirls about, envelops, pulls, carries everything along with\n    it, bursts and thunders, and becomes a general cry, a public\n    _crescendo_, a universal chorus of hatred and proscription.[40]\n\n=57. Rash judgments.=--We call rash judgments ill-natured remarks made\nabout others without sufficient knowledge of facts. It is through rash\njudgments one becomes often the accomplice of slander, without knowing it\nand without wishing it. Nicole, in his _Essais de Morale_, has thoroughly\ntreated the question of rash judgments. We have but to give here a short\n_resume_ of his Treatise on this subject.\n\n1. Rash judgments are a usurpation of God's judgment.\n\n    Rash judgments being always accompanied by ignorance and want of\n    knowledge, are a manifest injustice and a presumptuous usurpation of\n    God's authority.\n\n2. This sin has degrees according to the _quality_ of its object, the\n_causes_ from which it springs, and the _effects_ it produces.\n\n    The _quality_ of the object increases it or diminishes it, because the\n    more things are important the more is one obliged to be circumspect\n    and reserved in the judgments one pronounces.[41]\n\nThe _causes_ may be very different:\n\n    One falls into it sometimes simply from over-hastiness. Sometimes we\n    are led into it through the presumptuous attachment we have for our\n    sentiments. But the most ordinary source of this ignorance is the\n    maliciousness which causes us to see stains and defects in persons\n    which a single eye would never discover in them.... It causes us to\n    feel strongly the least conjectures, and enlarges in our eyes the\n    slightest appearances. We believe them guilty because we should be\n    very glad if they were.\n\nThe _consequences_ of rash judgments are sometimes terrible and fatal.\n\n    The divisions and hatreds which disturb human society and extinguish\n    charity come generally only from a few indiscreet words that escape\n    us. Moreover, we do not always confine ourselves to simple judgments.\n    We pass from the thoughts of the mind to the promptings of the heart.\n    We conceive aversion and contempt for those we have thoughtlessly\n    condemned, and we inspire the same sentiments in others.\n\n    Rash judgments are the source of what we call _prejudices_; or,\n    rather, prejudices are but rash judgments fixed and permanent.... We\n    portray human beings to ourselves from the inconsiderate remarks made\n    about them before us, and we then adjust all their other actions to\n    the ideas we have formed of them. It serves us as a key whereby to\n    explain the conduct of these persons, and as a rule for our conduct\n    towards them.\n\n3. We are apt to delude ourselves as to the motives of the judgments we\npronounce.\n\n    The manner in which we conceal from ourselves this defect is very\n    delicate and very difficult to avoid. For it comes from the bad use we\n    make of a maxim very true in itself when viewed generally, but which\n    in private we imperceptibly pervert. This maxim is, that whilst it is\n    forbidden to judge, it is not forbidden to see--that is to say, to\n    give one's self up to convincing evidence. Thus, in making our\n    judgments pass for views or evidences, we shield them from all that\n    can be said against the rashness of our judgments.\n\n    To enable us to distrust this pretended evidence, it would only be\n    necessary to call our attention upon those whom we think guilty of\n    rash judgments in regard to us. They think as we do, that the rashest\n    of their judgments are from observation evidently true. Who, then,\n    will assure us that it is different with us, and that we are the only\n    ones free from this illusion?\n\n4. It is maintained that one cannot help seeing the faults of others: so\nbe it; but one need not make it voluntarily an object.\n\n    It may be said that we cannot help but see. But that is not true. It\n    is rare that our mind is so violently struck that it cannot help\n    deciding. It is generally obliged to make an effort to look at things,\n    and it is this voluntary looking at the faults of others which\n    Christian prudence should correct in the persons whose function it is\n    not to correct them.\n\n5. Besides, even if we knew the evil for certain, it is not for us to make\nit known to others.\n\n    Whatever evidence we may think we have of the faults of our neighbor,\n    Christian prudence forbids us to make these known to others when it is\n    not incumbent on us or useful so to do.... This exercise does not only\n    serve in regulating our speech and forestalling the consequences of\n    rash judgments, but it is also of infinite service in regulating the\n    mind and correcting the rashness of judgment at its very source; for\n    one hardly ever allows one's mind to judge the faults of others,\n    except to speak about them, and if one did not speak of them, one\n    would insensibly stop trying to judge them.\n\n6. But as it is not always possible to avoid judging, it becomes necessary\nto employ other remedies against the abuse of rash judgments.\n\n    (_a._) \"The remedy for malignity is to fill one's heart with charity;\n    to think often about the virtues and good qualities of others.\n\n    (_b._) \"The remedy against haste is to accustom one's self to judge\n    slowly and to take more time in looking at things.\n\n    (_c._) \"The remedy against the too strong attachment to our own\n    sentiments is to continually remember the weakness of our minds and\n    the frequent mistakes we, as well as others, make.\"\n\nNicole goes so far in proscribing rash judgments, that he even forbids\nthem regarding the dead (xxxv.), regarding ourselves (xxxvi.), even when\nthey have good rather than evil for their object (xxxvii.), even regarding\nabstract maxims of morality (xli.); and he concludes by saying that the\nonly reasonable method is silence! We recognize here the rigorism of the\nJansenists.[42] It suffices to say that, as a general principle, one\nshould neither judge nor pronounce without investigation; but one must\nallow a little more latitude and liberty than does Nicole; for if all men\nagreed to keep silent, human society would be nothing but a semblance, a\nword void of sense. How could men get to love each other if they did not\nknow each other? And how could they know each other if they did not talk\nto each other? We must, therefore, adhere to certain general principles\nwithout pretending to bring all words and thoughts under regulations.\n\n=58. Of envy and delation.=--Among the vices which may lead to the greatest\ninjustices, and which already in themselves are odious as sentiments, the\nmost blameworthy and the vilest is the passion of _envy_. We call envious\nhim who suffers from the happiness of others, him who hates others because\nof the advantages they possess and the superiority they enjoy. In the\nfirst place, this sentiment is an injustice; for the happiness of one is\nnot the cause of another's misfortune; the health of one does not make the\nother sick; Voltaire's wit is not the cause of the mediocrity of our own\ntalents; beautiful women are not answerable for the ugliness of other\nwomen. Let the ill-favored one accuse nature or Providence, and there will\nbe some reason in it, though it is a bad feeling; for it is a want of\nresignation to a wisdom the motives of which we cannot always divine; but\nto accuse the favored of fortune, is a shocking baseness of the heart. It\nis the hateful feature of a celebrated sect of these present days; they\ndesire not the happiness of all, but the misfortune of all. Unable to\nprocure the same advantages to all men, their ideal is general\ndestruction. Their utopia is just the reverse of all other utopias. These\nbelieved they could secure to all the advantages reserved to a few. This\nnew utopia, persuaded of the impossibility of the thing, have overthrown\nthe problem and propose to reduce the more fortunate to the wretchedness\nof the less happy; and as among the number of heads they hit there are\nstill some which retain a few advantages over the others, the work of\ndestruction will go on till they shall have reached the level of universal\ndegradation.\n\nBut, without speaking of the social envy, which has had so large a share\nin the revolutions of our time, what we ought above all to fight against\nis the individual envy which each of us has so much trouble in defending\nhimself against in presence of the success of his neighbor. It is above\nall dangerous when _disputed_ goods are in question--things all cannot\nhave at the same time--and which he who is in the enjoyment of them seems\nthereby to rob the others of: as, for instance, a situation one obtains at\nthe expense of another, be it that he is more deserving of it, or more\nfavored by fortune. In the first case, one should be just enough to\nrecognize the rights of others to these things, and in the second,\ngenerous enough to forgive them the favors of chance. It is wanting in\npersonal dignity to begrudge men their chances and good fortune; and even\nwere these chances undeserved, it is still lowering one's self to do them\nthe honor of envying them.\n\nEnvy comes close to another sentiment, less odious perhaps, and less\nunjust, but which is, nevertheless, unworthy of a right-feeling man; this\nis _resentment_, _rancor_, a _vindictive_ spirit. If we are commanded to\nreturn good for good, we are, on the other hand, forbidden to return evil\nfor evil. For centuries it has been said: Eye for eye and tooth for tooth.\nThis is called retaliation (_lex talionis_). Christian morality has\nreformed this law of barbarous times. \"It is written: eye for eye, tooth\nfor tooth; but I say unto you: Love those who hate you; pray for those who\npersecute you and speak evil of you.\" Without insisting here on the _love\nfor enemies_ (which is a duty of charity and not of justice), we will\nsimply say that the spirit of vengeance is even contrary to justice.\nNature, when we have been offended, calls forth in our hearts a\nspontaneous emotion, which inspires in us an aversion for the cause of the\noffense. This is a mere revolt of nature, innocent in itself, since it is\nthe principle of the right of self-defense. But we should not yield to\nthis thoughtless impulse; we should combat the desire to return evil for\nevil; for otherwise we place ourselves on a level with him whom we hate.\nAnd here again we should distinguish between _anger_ and _rancor_. Anger\nis the immediate impression we receive from the wrong committed, and which\nmay induce us to return evil for evil on the spot; but _rancor_ is hatred\ncoldly kept up; it is the slow and calculated preparation for a revenge;\nit is the _remembrance_ of wrong carefully nursed: and it is this which is\ncontrary to human dignity. Man should remember good, not evil: he who is\ncapable of hatred is worthy of hatred, and would seem to have beforehand\ndeserved the wrong he has been made to suffer. We do not go so far as to\nsay that wrong must be pardoned as wrong, for that would be siding with\ninjustice; but it should be pardoned to human nature, because it is weak,\nand we are no less liable to sin than others.\n\nFrom these feelings of hatred, envy, rancor, covetousness, springs\nsometimes a vice which lowers the soul and corrupts it: this is\n_delation_. To report to one the wrong done by another; to superiors the\nwrongs done by our colleagues; to friends the evil said of them in their\nabsence; to inform the authorities of the presence and lodgings of an\noutlaw, such are the faults designated by the term _delation_, and the\nessential characteristics of which are, that they are committed without\nthe knowledge of the interested parties. It is evident, besides, that this\nterm can nowise be applied to functionaries commissioned to watch and\ndiscover faults, or to those who complain of injustice done them, and\nfinally where great crimes committed against society are in question, to\nthose who, knowing the criminals, report them to the authorities.\n\n=59. Distributive and remunerating justice--Equity.=--All the acts we have\nthus far enumerated, and which consist in doing no wrong to others,\nrelate to what may be called _negative_ justice.[43]\n\nThere is another kind of justice, more positive, which consists, like\ncharity, in doing good to others, not in the sense of liberality and a\ngift, but as a debt; only the question then is not a material debt, which\nobliges to return a thing loaned, or intrusted, or the venal value of that\nthing; but it is a moral debt in proportion to the merit and services it\nrelates to. This kind of justice, which distributes goods, advantages,\npraises in proportion to certain efforts, capacities, virtues, is what is\ncalled _distributive_ justice, and, inasmuch as it rewards services,\n_remunerating_.\n\nDistributive justice goes into effect every time when there is occasion to\nclassify men, to distribute among them offices, ranks, honors, degrees,\netc. It is that which especially administrators who distribute places,\nhave to exercise; also, examiners who give diplomas, learned societies who\ngrant prizes, or take in new members; finally, critical judges who\nappreciate the merit of books, works of art, dramatic productions.\n\nThe administrators who have to fill posts, must above all consider the\ninterests of the situation which is to be filled. Favoritism should be\nstrictly excluded: the misuse of testimonials has been often pointed out;\nit is the plague of our administrations. They have not always all the\ninfluence attributed to them; but it is enough that it is thought they\nhave any, to give rise to bad habits and a very serious laxity of morals.\nThey make you believe that success does not wholly depend on conscientious\nwork, and that it requires, above all, the favor of the great\n(protections). It is, therefore, the duty of administrators to consider\nthe merit of functionaries only, and not their patrons.\n\nBut even this rule is far from being sufficient: for personal merit is not\neverything; is not the only element to be considered; age, length of\nservice, have also their value; for, in order that the State be well\nserved, it is necessary that those who work for it, should have faith in\nthe future; should know that their past services will be taken account of,\nthat as they grow older and their burdens heavier, the State will come to\ntheir assistance in raising their functions. Thus must length of service\nbe combined with merit and be itself a part of the merit. In many\nadministrations, the division between these two elements is made by\ngranting vacant posts half to length of service, half to choice. But the\nchoice itself depends on various elements; for personal merit is itself\ncomposed of many elements: for example, which should be considered the\nhigher, talent or work? A lively mind will accomplish more work in less\ntime; but it may be negligent, forgetful, disorderly: a substantial mind,\nalways ready, industrious, conscientious, offers better guarantees and\nmore security; yet in difficult transactions, talent offers more\nresources. This shows how many practical difficulties have to be met in\nthe choice of men. It is for experience and conscience to decide in each\nparticular case. Morality can give no general rules, except negative\nrules: to avoid _nepotism_, _simony_,[44] guard against the arbitrary,\nagainst favor, testimonials, etc.\n\nIn examinations there are the same dangers to avoid: for here, also, it is\nunfortunately too much a general belief that favoritism is the rule, and\nthat testimonials go for everything. The first duty is to set aside all\npersonal interest, worldly influence, pressure from without. But all does\nnot end here; for there remains to be seen what rule is to be followed in\nthe choice of candidates.\n\nIf the number of those who are to be elected is fixed beforehand, as in\ncontests, there is then already a great difficulty obviated: for there is\nbut to be determined the order of merit of the candidates. But in many\nexaminations the number is not fixed. It becomes then necessary to find a\njust medium between excess of severity and excess of indulgence. This\nmedium is generally determined through the co-operation of different\nminds, of which some are inclined to severity and others to indulgence.\nBut one must not trust to this co-operation of others to arrive at a\nstrict justice. It is clear that each, for his own part, must fix upon a\nmean, and endeavor to adhere to it as strictly as possible. In cases where\nthere is occasion for classification, one must, above all, consider the\nmore substantial qualities, and not allow one's self to be too easily led\naway by mere appearances and surface-talent.\n\nThus, facility of speech, which in itself is a merit, should not have any\nadvantage over sound learning, especially in regard to functions where\nspeech-making plays no part. Presence of mind, ready wit, are also\nbrilliant and precious qualities, but the absence of which does not always\ndenote ignorance and incapacity.\n\nIn learned or political societies, which are recruited among themselves,\nthe same principles of independence and impartiality should always\npredominate, except in cases of difference in circumstances. Talent is\nhere the principal thing to go by, and which should prevail; length of\nservice counts for nothing except where the merit is equal. The interest\nof science in learned societies, the interest of the State in political\nsocieties, should be the prime considerations.\n\nLiterary or artistic criticism comes under the same rules, only it has not\nfor its object persons, but works. Here the danger to be feared is not\nexactly favor, but good fellowship: one upholds the other, the praise is\nmutual, and all severity is reserved for those who do not belong to the\nsociety. But, whether good fellowship or favor, all privilege-preference\nsubstituted for the esteem the thing should be held in for its own sake,\nis contrary to justice. Criticism may, of course, be more or less\nsevere--more or less laudatory; there is as much impropriety in constant\nblame as in constant praise; one must strike as near as possible a just\nmean between the two, and this mean may not be the same with the different\ncritics; here comes in the part which individual temperament plays in the\nmatter. But whatever rule each may adopt for himself, they must all apply\nit to the same end: there must be no undue respect for the person, and the\ninterest of art must be alone considered.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nDUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    A retrospect of what distinguishes justice and charity.\n\n    =Duties of kindness.=--The lowest degree of charity is _kindness_: to\n    wish others well leads to _doing_ them good.\n\n    =Civility.=--_Personal civility_; civility of the mind; civility of the\n    heart.\n\n    =Modesty.=--Modesty is as much a duty to others as to ourselves.\n\n    =Peace among men.=--Analysis of Nicole's dissertation _on the means of\n    preserving peace among men_.--Citations from Kant on _society\n    virtues_.\n\n    =Duties of friendship.=--Citations from Aristotle and Kant.\n\n    =Duties of benevolence.=--_Duties minima_: services which cost\n    nothing.--Hospitality with the ancients.\n\n    =Good deeds.=--Analysis of Seneca.\n\n    =Duties of benefactors.=--1, The benefaction consists rather in the\n    sentiment than in the thing given; 2, one should not trouble one's\n    self if the benefaction results in ingratitude; 3, degrees in\n    benefactions: the necessary, the useful, the agreeable; 4, the manner\n    of giving is often better than the gift itself; 5, one should not\n    reproach benefactions; 6, benefaction consists sometimes in refusing;\n    7, benefaction should be disinterested.\n\n    =Duties of the person under obligation:=--1, Not to be too greedy; 2, a\n    kindness should be accepted cheerfully; 3, one should remember a\n    kindness.\n\n    =Kant's rules= regarding benevolence and gratitude.\n\n    =Precautions required by benevolence:= Cicero's rules.\n\n    =Self-sacrifice.=--Different forms of self-sacrifice: The life, the\n    property, the morality of others, etc.; clemency; forgiveness of\n    injuries; love of enemies.\n\n\nWe have said that charity consists, above all, in doing good to men,\nwhilst justice consists in doing them no wrong. It is true, there is a\n_positive_ justice, as there is a _negative_ justice; and this positive\njustice consists also in doing good to men, but it is a good which is\n_due_ them, which belongs to them by right, and which is itself an\nacknowledgment of that due and that right.\n\nThe good done to others in the exercise of the duties of charity is, on\nthe contrary, something we take from our own; it is a _gift_; whilst the\ngood done in the name of justice, is always a _debt_.\n\nThe lowest degree of the duty of charity consists in what are called\nduties of _kindliness_.\n\n=60. Duties of kindliness.=--The first step to arrive at _doing_ good to\nmen, is to _wish_ them well. _Kindliness_ is the road to _benevolence_.\n\nKindliness is that disposition which induces us to give others pleasure;\nto rejoice over their good fortune, to make them happy themselves, if not\nby our own kindnesses, if that is not in our power, at least by outward\ndemonstrations of sympathy and affection.\n\n=61. Civility.=--The lowest degree of this virtue, consists in using gentle\nand amiable manners in our intercourse with others, in not repelling them\nby a gruff and unsociable disposition; in wounding no one's feelings by\nthe affectation of contempt and raillery, etc. This kind of\nsurface-virtue, which is confined to the outward, is what is called\n_civility_.\n\nCivility is the _ensemble_ of the forms usage has established to regulate\nthe habitual and daily relations of men with each other. It corresponds in\nsociety to the ceremonial of diplomatic life. To avoid the clashes which\nthe rivalries of courts and powers would necessarily carry with them, a\ncode of agreements was established which fix with precision the relations\nof the diplomatic agents. The same in social life. Civility is composed\nnot of absolute and wholly material rules, but of forms fixed in a general\nway, yet more or less free in their application, and all the more pleasing\nas they are the more free. These forms, often laughed at when regarded\nsuperficially, have a serious value when we consider that they express the\ngeneral duty whereby peace is established and maintained among men. (See\nNicole, _Essais de morale_,[45] 1671.)\n\nThere is, then, in civility a principle which is _essential_ and a form\nwhich is _arbitrary_. Usage has everywhere established the form of bowing,\nfor instance; everywhere there are conventional expressions wherewith to\ngreet people according to their age, their sex; but these outward\nmanifestations vary according to times and countries.\n\nA distinction has been made between _personal_ civility and the civility\nof the _mind_ and _heart_. Civility properly so called is that of the\noutward manners; but it is worth very little if it is not sustained by the\ndelicacy which says nothing wounding and the true kindliness which seeks\nto give pleasure: this is what is called civility of the mind and heart.\n\n    \"The most amiable natural gifts, and the talents made most supple by\n    education, change into defects and vices if they are not inspired by a\n    feeling of kindness. Suppleness, then, is nothing else than perfidy;\n    delicacy nothing else but cunning; this civility lavished upon\n    everybody is nothing else than duplicity.... It is not enough to be a\n    man of the world; one must also be a man of heart.... True civility is\n    that which has its source in justice, in the respect for humanity; it\n    is a form of charity; it is the luxury of virtue.\"[46]\n\n=62. Modesty.=--One of the most essential parts of kindness is _modesty_.\nModesty is certainly a duty we owe to ourselves; but it is also a duty we\nowe to others. Nothing more fatiguing than people who bring everything\nback to themselves, and can speak of nothing but themselves. It is not by\nappearing satisfied with your own accomplishments, but in having others\nsatisfied with them, that you will please; and they will never find you\nmore charming than when, completely forgetting yourself, you will be only\noccupied with them. To succeed in making them satisfied with themselves,\nis the true means of having them satisfied with you.\n\nAmong remarkable instances of modesty often cited, are those of Turenne\nand Catinat. The latter having sent in a report of the battle of\nMarsaglia, had so totally forgotten to mention himself that some one\ningenuously asked: \"Was the marshal present?\"\n\n=62= (_bis_). =Peace among men.=--\"You have but a day to spend on earth,\"\nsays Lamennais; \"try to spend it in peace.\"[47]\n\nNicole has written an excellent treatise on _the means of preserving peace\namong men_ (_Essais de morale_, 1671). Let us give a resume of it.\n\nTwo causes, according to Nicole, produce disunion among men: \"either _in\nwounding_ their feelings we cause them to withdraw from us, or, in _being\nwounded_ ourselves, we withdraw from them.\"\n\nConsequently, \"the only means of avoiding such divisions is not to wound\nthe feelings of others, and not to feel one's self wounded by them.\"\n\n1. If we look into the causes which generally give offense, we shall see\nthat they may be reduced to two, which are: \"to contradict people in their\nopinions, and to oppose their passions.\"\n\n    \"1. _Opinions._--Men are naturally attached to their opinions, because\n    they desire to rule over others: now we rule through the trust that is\n    placed in us; it is a sort of empire to have one's opinions received\n    by others.\n\n    \"For this reason, when one seeks to combat the opinions of a man, one\n    does him in some sort injury. It cannot be done without giving him to\n    understand that he is mistaken; and he does not take pleasure in being\n    mistaken. He who contradicts another on some point, pretends to more\n    knowledge than has he whom he wishes to persuade; he thus presents to\n    him two disagreeable ideas at the same time: one, that he is deficient\n    in knowledge, and the other that he who corrects him surpasses him in\n    intelligence.\"\n\nOne should, therefore, spare people in their opinions; but among these\nopinions there are some which must be treated with more regard than\nothers:\n\n    \"They are those advanced by no one particular person of the place\n    where one may live, but which are established by universal\n    approbation: in running against such opinions, one appears wishing to\n    rise above all the rest.\"\n\nNot that one should always scruple in conversation to show that one does\nnot approve some opinions: that would be destroying society, instead of\npreserving it....\n\n    \"But it is a thing worth pointing out how one may express his\n    sentiments so gently and agreeably that they give no offense.... For\n    very often it is not so much our sentiments that shock others, as the\n    proud, presumptuous, passionate, disdainful, insulting manner in which\n    we express them.\"\n\nThere are, then, several mistakes to be avoided:\n\n    (_a_) The first is _assumed superiority_, that is to say an imperious\n    manner in the expression of one's sentiments, and which most persons\n    resent, as much because it shows a proud and haughty soul, as because\n    it indicates a domineering spirit tyrannizing over minds.\n\n    (_b_) The second is the decided and dogmatic manner in which an\n    opinion is given; as if it could not be reasonably contradicted.\n\n    (_c_) _Vehemence_ does not belong to the mistakes we have just spoken\n    of. It consists in conveying the impression that one is not only\n    attached to one's sentiments from conviction, but also passionately,\n    which furnishes many people a reason for suspecting the truth of those\n    sentiments, thus inspiring in them a wholly contrary feeling.\n\n    (_d_) The contempt and insults which enter into disputes, are so\n    obviously shocking, that it is not necessary to warn against them; but\n    it may be well to remark that there are certain rudenesses and\n    incivilities nearly akin to contempt, although they spring from\n    another source. Change of opinion is in itself such a hard thing, and\n    so contrary to nature, that we must not add to it other difficulties.\n\n    (_e_) Finally, _hardness_, which does not so much consist in the\n    hardness of the terms employed as in the absence of certain softening\n    words, also often shocks those thus addressed, because it implies a\n    sort of indifference and contempt.\n\n2. _Passions._--It is not enough to avoid contradicting people's opinions,\nor to do so cautiously only; one must also spare their _inclinations_ and\ntheir _passions_, because otherwise, it is impossible to avoid complaints,\nmurmurs, and quarrels.\n\nThese inclinations are of three kinds: which may be called _just_,\n_indifferent_, and _unjust_.\n\n    (_a_) One should never really satisfy the unjust ones; but it is not\n    always necessary to oppose them; for it is wounding others to make\n    one's self conspicuous without particular reason.... One must always\n    make amends for good and evil ... especially when there are others who\n    could do it with better results than we.\n\n    Besides, \"this same rule obliges us to choose the least offensive, the\n    gentlest, the least irritating means.\"\n\n    (_b_) I call indifferent passions those the objects of which are not\n    bad in themselves, although they may be sought after with a vicious\n    adhesion. Now, in this sort of things we are at greater liberty to\n    yield to the inclinations of others: 1, because we are not their\n    judges; 2, because we do not know whether these affections are not\n    necessary to them (leading them away from still more dangerous\n    objects); 3, because these sorts of affections must be destroyed with\n    prudence and circumspection; 4, because there is reason to fear we\n    might do them more harm in indirectly opposing their innocent\n    passions, than we should do them good in warning them against them.\n\n    (_c_) I call _just_ passions, those in which we are obliged to follow\n    others by reason of some duty, although they might perhaps not be\n    justified in requiring of us such deference.\n\nThe peace of society resting thus on reciprocal esteem and love, it is\njust that men should wish to be esteemed and loved, and should demand\noutward signs of esteem and love. Upon this rest the rules of civility\nestablished among men, and of which we have spoken above.\n\nII. It is not enough to avoid wounding men's feelings, one should,\nmoreover, not allow one's self to _feel wounded_ by them, when they\nthemselves fail to treat us as we ought to treat them.\n\n    For it is impossible to practice inward peace, if we are so sensitive\n    to all that may be done and said contrary to our inclinations and\n    sentiments; and it is even difficult to prevent the inner\n    dissatisfaction from showing itself outwardly, and inducing us to\n    treat those who have shocked us in a manner calculated to shock them\n    in their turn.\n\nIt is, then, necessary to avoid complaining of others, when one has been\noffended by them. In fact:\n\n    ... Let us complain of others as much as we please, we shall generally\n    only embitter them the more, without correcting them. We shall be\n    accounted sensitive, proud, haughty ... and if those we complain of\n    have any sort of skill, they will give such an aspect to things that\n    the blame will fall back upon us.\n\n    We must then endeavor to establish our peace and quiet on our own\n    reformation and on the moderation of our passions. We cannot dispose\n    of the minds or the tongues of others ... we are enjoined to work on\n    ourselves and to correct our own faults.\n\n    There is nothing more useful than to suppress one's complaining and\n    resentment. It is the surest way to appease differences at their birth\n    and prevent their increase; it is a charity we practice towards\n    ourselves by procuring to ourselves the good of patience ... it is a\n    charity we do to others in bearing with their foibles, in sparing them\n    the little shame they have deserved, and the new faults they might\n    commit in justifying themselves.\n\n    But it is not possible for us to observe outwardly such discretion, if\n    we allow our resentment to work inwardly in all its force and\n    violence. The outward complaints come from the inward, and it is very\n    difficult to hold them back, if one's mind is full of them; they\n    always escape and break through some opening or other.... We must,\n    therefore, also quench the complaints which the soul engenders.\n\nAmong the subjects of complaint which other men give us, and which should\nbe treated with contempt, Nicole points out particularly:\n\n    \"False judgments, slander, rudeness, negligence, reserve, or want of\n    confidence, ingratitude, disagreeable tempers, etc.\"\n\nLet us merely repeat what he says of the unfavorable judgments of others\nregarding us:\n\n    \"There is a ridiculous oddity in this spite which we feel when we hear\n    of the unfavorable judgments and remarks made about us; for one must\n    have very little knowledge of the world to suppose it generally\n    possible that they would not be made. Princes are talked against in\n    their ante-chambers; their servants mimic them. There is nothing so\n    common as to speak of the defects of one's friends and pride one's\n    self in pointing them frankly out to others. There are even occasions\n    when this may be done innocently.... It is, therefore, ridiculous to\n    expect being spared ... for there is no time when we may not be\n    generally sure either that people talk or have talked about us\n    otherwise than we should wish.... We show annoyance at these judgments\n    when they are expressly reported to us ... yet the report itself adds\n    next to nothing to the matter, for before it was made we ought to have\n    been almost sure that we and our faults were unpleasantly commented\n    on.... If this resentment were just, one would then have to be always\n    angry, or never so, because it is unjust. But to keep very quiet, as\n    we do, though we should know that there are people laughing at us, and\n    to be disturbed and upset when we are told what we already knew, is a\n    ridiculous foible.\"\n\n=63. Social virtues--Kant's advice.=--Kant has also treated the duties of\nkindness towards men, under the title of _Social Virtues_.[48]\n\n    \"It is a duty to one's self as well as to others to carry the commerce\n    of life to the highest degree of moral perfection; not to _isolate_\n    one's self; not only to have the happiness of the world in view\n    ideally, but to cultivate the means which indirectly lead to it;\n    urbanity in social relations, gentleness, reciprocal love and respect,\n    affability and propriety, thus adding the graces to virtue, for this\n    also is a duty of virtue.\n\n    \"These, it is true, are but external and accessory works, presenting a\n    fine appearance of virtue, which, however, deceives no one, because\n    every one knows how much to think of it. It is but a sort of small\n    coin; but the effort we are obliged to make to bring this appearance\n    as near to the truth as possible, helps the sentiment of virtue\n    greatly along. An easy access, an amiable mode of speech, politeness,\n    hospitality, that gentleness in controversy which keeps off all\n    quarrel--all these forms of sociability are external obligations which\n    put also the others under obligation, and which favor the sentiment of\n    virtue in rendering it at least amiable.\n\n    \"Here arises the question to know whether one can keep up friendly\n    relations with the vicious.[49] One cannot avoid meeting them; for one\n    would have to quit the world, and we are not ourselves competent\n    judges in respect to them. But when vice becomes a scandal--that is to\n    say, a public example of contempt of the strict laws of duty, thus\n    carrying with it opprobrium--then one should stop all relations one\n    may have had heretofore with the guilty person; for the continuation\n    of this relation would deprive virtue of honor, and make of it a\n    merchandise for the use of whoever were rich enough to corrupt\n    parasites through the pleasures of good living.\"\n\n=64. Duties of friendship.=--Besides the general duties of every kind which\nlink us with all men, for the only reason that they are men, there are\nparticular duties imposed on us toward those of our fellow-beings, to whom\nwe are united by the bonds of friendship.\n\nThe duties of friendship have been admirably known and described by the\nancients. We could not, therefore, treat this subject better here than by\nbriefly recalling some few passages from Aristotle or Cicero.\n\nAccording to Aristotle, there are three kinds of friendship: the\nfriendship of _pleasure_, the friendship of _interest_, and the friendship\nof _virtue_. The latter is the only true one.\n\n    \"There are three kinds of friendship.... The people who love each\n    other from interested motives, for the use they are to each other,\n    love each other, not for their own sakes, but only inasmuch as they\n    get any good or profit from their mutual relations. It is the same\n    with those who only love each other for pleasure's sake. When one\n    loves from motives of pleasure only, one really seeks nothing else but\n    this same pleasure. Such friendships are only indirect and accidental.\n    They are very easily broken, because these pretended friends do not\n    long remain the same.\n\n    \"Utility, interest, have nothing fixed; they vary from one moment to\n    another. The motive which originated the friendship disappearing, the\n    friendship disappears as rapidly with it.\n\n    \"The perfect friendship is that of virtuous people, and who resemble\n    each other in their virtue; for these wish each other well, inasmuch\n    as they are good; and I add that they are good in themselves. Those\n    who wish their friends well from such a noble motive are the friends\n    _par excellence_. Hence it is that the friendship of such generous\n    hearts lasts as long as they remain good and virtuous themselves; now\n    virtue is a substantial and durable thing. Each of the two friends is\n    in the first place good in himself, and he is, moreover, good to all\n    his friends, for good people are useful to each other, and also\n    mutually agreeable to each other. Such a friendship unites, then, all\n    the conditions. There is nothing more lovely. It is quite natural,\n    however, that such friendships are very rare, because there are very\n    few people of such a disposition. It requires, moreover, time and\n    habit. The proverb is true which says that people can hardly know each\n    other well, 'before having eaten together bushels of salt.' In the\n    same way persons cannot be friends before having shown themselves\n    worthy of affection, before reciprocal confidence is established.\"\n    (Nicomachean Ethics, liv. viii., ch. vii.)\n\nFriendship, according to Aristotle, consists in _loving_ rather than in\n_being loved_.\n\n    \"Friendship, besides, consists much rather in loving than in being\n    loved. The proof of it is the pleasure mothers experience in lavishing\n    their love.... To love is, then, the great virtue of friends; it is\n    thus that the most unequal of people may be friends; their mutual\n    esteem renders them equals.\" (Ch. viii.)\n\nFriendship gives rise to a number of delicate problems: they may be found\ndiscussed in great detail in Cicero's _Treatise on Friendship_.\n\n=65. Kant's precepts touching friendship.=--Among the moderns, Kant is the\nonly moral philosopher who has given friendship a place in practical\nmorality. He has found new and delicate traits to add to the rules of the\nancients. He insists above all on what he calls \"the difficulties of\nfriendship,\" and above all on the difficulty of conciliating \"love and\nrespect.\"\n\n    \"To look at the moral aspect of the thing,\" he says, \"it is certainly\n    a duty to call a friend's attention to the mistakes he may commit; for\n    it is done for his good, and is consequently a duty of love. But the\n    friend, thus admonished, sees in the thing but a lack of esteem he had\n    not expected, and thinks he has lost something in your mind; or,\n    seeing himself thus observed and criticised, may at least be in\n    constant fear of losing your esteem. Besides, the fact alone of being\n    observed and censured, will already appear to him an offensive thing\n    in itself.\n\n    \"How much in adversity do we not wish for a friend, especially an\n    effective friend, one finding in his own resources abundant means for\n    helping us? Yet is it a very heavy burden to feel one's self\n    responsible for the fortunes of another, and called to provide for his\n    necessities.... Then if the one receives a kindness from the other,\n    perhaps there may be yet reason to hope for perfect equality in love;\n    but he could no longer expect perfect equality in respect; for being\n    under obligation to one he cannot oblige in his turn, he feels himself\n    manifestly one degree his inferior.... Friendship is something so\n    tender that if one does not subject this reciprocal abandonment and\n    interchange of thoughts to principles, to fixed rules, which prevent\n    too great a familiarity and limit reciprocal love by the requirements\n    of respect, it will see itself every instant threatened by some\n    interruption.... In any case affection in friendship should not be a\n    passion; for passion is blind in its choice, and evaporates with\n    time.[50]\n\n=66. Duties of benevolence.--Duties minima.=--From _kindness_ we pass to\n_benevolence_. The one resides in sentiment, the other in acts: the first\nconsists in _wishing_ well, the second in _doing_ good.\n\nThe least degree of _benevolence_ consists in rendering to others those\nsmaller services which cost us nothing, and which are helpful to them. It\nis what Puffendorf calls the _duties minima_ of benevolence.[51]\n\nCicero, in his _Treatise on duties_ (I., xvi.), gives several examples of\nthis kind:\n\n    \"To show the way to him who asks for it; to forbid no one the use of\n    running water; to give fire to him who has need of it; to give advice\n    in good faith to him who is in doubt.\"\n\nPlutarch, in the same sense, says that the Romans never extinguished their\nlamps after their meals, and always left something on the table to\naccustom the servants of the house to the duties of humanity. By the law\nof Moses, the owner of a field was obliged always to leave some corner\nuncut and not glean the ears that had escaped the reapers. Finally, a\nGreek poet, Phocylides, expressed in the following lines this minimum of\nbenevolence which every one can exercise:\n\n    \"Give shelter to those who have none; lead the blind; be merciful to\n    those who have suffered shipwreck; extend a helping hand to the\n    fallen; assist those that have no one to help them out of danger.\"\n\nAmong these primitive duties, which cost him that fulfills them but\nlittle, the ancients put in the first rank _hospitality_. It is in fact a\nvirtue of primitive times which exists especially among barbarous and\nsavage peoples. In the poems of Homer we see to what degree the guest was\nheld sacred; it is still so among the Arabs and the Indians of America.\nThis virtue, on the contrary, seems to have disappeared with civilization.\nThe reason of it is that among barbarous populations, where security is\nfeeble, it was the point of honor which guaranteed the security of\nstrangers. But as civilization becomes more complicated, as traveling\nincreases, and security becomes greater, mercenary hospitality takes the\nplace of free and private hospitality. Nevertheless, there can always\nremain some occasion for this primitive virtue in places isolated and\nseparated from the great centres: this, for example, can still be seen in\nour days in the great wastes of America and Australia.\n\n=67. Benefactions--Duties of the benefactor.=--The foregoing actions,\nhowever praiseworthy they may be, are too simple and too easy to be\npresented as real acts of benevolence. This term is reserved for the more\ndifficult actions, which may cost us some real sacrifices more or less\ngreat, and which, moreover, are important services. These are what are\ncalled benefactions.\n\nSeneca, in his _Treatise on benefactions_, has fixed the principles of\nbenevolence:\n\n1. Benefaction consists especially in the feeling which accompanies it,\nrather than in the thing given.\n\n    \"What is a benefaction?\" he asks; \"it is an act of benevolence which\n    procures joy to him who is the object of it and to him who exercises\n    it: it is a voluntary and spontaneous act. It is then not at the thing\n    done and given that we must look, but at the intention, because the\n    benefaction does not consist in the gift or in the action, but in the\n    disposition of him who gives. The proof of this difference is that the\n    benefaction is always a good, whilst the thing done or given is\n    neither a good nor an evil. The benefaction is then not the money that\n    is counted out to you, the present that is made you; no more than the\n    worship of the gods consists in its fattest victims, but in the\n    uprightness and piety of their worshipers.\n\n    \"One prefers a hand that opens easily to one that gives largely. He\n    has done little for me, but he could not do any more. That other has\n    given much, but he hesitated, he delayed, he groaned in giving, he\n    gave with ostentation; he proclaimed his good deed; he did not care to\n    please him whom he obliged: it is not to me he gave, it is to his\n    vanity.\" (I., vi.)\n\n2. One should do good without caring about ingrates.\n\n    \"What is after all the wrong the ingrate does you? You have lost your\n    good deed. But there remains to you the most precious part of it: the\n    merit of having done it. There are services one should learn how to\n    render without hope of returns, to people one may presume will be\n    ungrateful, and whom one even knows to have been so. If, for example,\n    I can save from a great peril the children of one who has been\n    ungrateful to me, I shall not hesitate to do so.\" (I., x.)\n\n3. There must be degrees in benefactions, and, having to choose, one must\nfirst give the _necessary_, then the _useful_, then the _agreeable_.\n\n    \"The necessary,\" says Seneca, \"is divided into three classes: the\n    first comprises the things without which one cannot live (for example,\n    to rescue a man from the sword of the enemy, from the rage of tyrants,\n    from proscription, etc.); the second, those without which one should\n    not live (such as liberty, honor, virtue); finally (3d class), our\n    children, our wives, our household gods are objects dearer to us than\n    life.--After the necessary comes the useful; it may be subdivided into\n    a great number of species; it comprises money, honors, and above all\n    the progress in the science of virtue.--Finally come the agreeable\n    things which are innumerable.... Let us seek things which please\n    because they are to the purpose; that are not common; that recall the\n    donor; let us above all beware of useless presents.\" (I., xi.)\n\n4. The manner of granting a benefit is more important than the benefit\nitself.\n\n    \"The simplest rule to follow is to give as we should ourselves wish to\n    be given to.\n\n    \"One must above all give heartily, without hesitation ... after a\n    refusal nothing so hard as irresolution.... The most agreeable\n    kindnesses are those one does not expect, which flow naturally; which\n    anticipate their need. It is better to anticipate the request. To\n    forestall this trouble is doubling the good deed.\n\n    \"There are people who spoil their greatest kindnesses by their\n    silence, their slowness to speak which comes from constraint and\n    moodiness; they promise with the same air with which they would\n    refuse.... Their knit brows, their harangues, their disdain make one\n    regret having obtained the promised thing.\n\n    \"Nothing more disagreeable than to be a long time in suspense. There\n    are persons who prefer giving up hope to languishing in\n    expectation.... Promptness then enhances the good deed, and tardiness\n    diminishes it.\" (II., ii-vi.)\n\n5. One must not reproach good deeds.\n\n    \"One of the first and most indispensable laws, is not to reproach or\n    even recall to the mind of recipients one's kindnesses. The tacit\n    agreement between the giver and the receiver is, that the one should\n    immediately forget what he has given, and that the other should never\n    forget what he has received. The frequent mention of kindnesses is a\n    crushing weight to the soul.\"\n\n6. Benevolence consists sometimes in refusing.\n\n    \"If the thing asked for is prejudicial to him who asks for it, then\n    benevolence consists no longer in giving, but in refusing. We should\n    have more regard to the interests of the petitioner than to his\n    wishes. As we refuse patients cold water, arms to angry persons, so\n    should we also refuse a kindness to the most pressing requests, if\n    that kindness is injurious to the interested person.... One should no\n    less consider the end than the principle of kindnesses.\"\n\n7. Benevolence must be disinterested.\n\n    \"It is shameful to do good for any other motive than doing good. If\n    one gave only in the hope of restitution, one would choose the richest\n    in preference to the most worthy.... The least benevolent men would be\n    those who had the best means for being benevolent: the rich, the\n    great, the king, etc. ... As an insult is a thing one should for\n    itself avoid, so benevolence is desirable for its own sake (xv.)....\n    There is no benevolence where there is expectation of profit. I shall\n    give so much; I shall receive so much: this is called a bargain.\"\n    (xiv.)\n\nWe will put aside the other questions, more curious than useful, raised by\nSeneca (as, for example, whether one should give to the wicked; whether\none may be his own benefactor; whether one may allow himself to be\noutdone by good deeds, etc.), and consider now the duties of the one under\nobligation.\n\n=68. Duties of the person under obligation.=--_Gratitude._--After having\nexpounded the duties of the benefactor, we have to ask ourselves what are\nthose of the person under obligation. The principle of all is _gratitude_;\nthat only comes after the kindness; but there are duties which precede the\ngood deed or accompany it. We shall again cite here Seneca as authority.\nAfter having set forth the principles which should actuate the giver, he\nalso sets forth those the receiver should be guided by.\n\n1. The first principle is that we should not be too greedy and receive\nfrom any one, but only from those to whom we should like to give\nourselves:\n\n    \"It is a painful thing to be under obligations to people against one's\n    will. Nothing sweeter, on the contrary, than to receive a kindness\n    from a person one loves.... I must then choose the person of whom I\n    consent to receive anything, and I should even be more particular in\n    regard to kindness-creditors than to money-creditors; to the latter\n    one need only return what he has received from them; this\n    reimbursement done we have acquitted ourselves toward them; in the\n    matter of kindnesses, on the contrary, one should pay more than what\n    he has received.\"\n\n2. A second rule is that from the moment one accepts a kindness, he must\naccept it cheerfully.\n\n    \"When we have concluded to accept a kindness, let us do it\n    cheerfully.... To accept a kindness with pleasure, is making the first\n    payment of the interest (II., xxii.).--There are people who only\n    consent to receive in secret; they wish neither witnesses to, nor\n    confidants of, the obligations they are contracting. If the benefactor\n    is bound to proclaim his kindness only inasmuch as its publicity will\n    give pleasure to the person he obliges, the one receiving should, on\n    the contrary, call together the crowd. One is at liberty not to accept\n    what he blushes to receive (xxxiii.).... One of the lesser paradoxes\n    of the stoics is, that in receiving a kindness cheerfully, one has\n    already acquitted himself.\"\n\n3. One must awaken the remembrance of a good deed: _to remember is already\nto acquit one's self_ (xxiv.).\n\n    \"Which, according to you, is the most culpable, he who feels no\n    gratitude for a kindness, or he who does not even keep it in mind?...\n    It would seem that one thought very little about restitution when he\n    has got so far as to forget the kindness.... To acquit one's self of a\n    kindness, one needs means, some fortune; but the recollection of it is\n    a gratitude which costs nothing. To withhold a payment which requires\n    neither trouble nor riches, is inexcusable.... The objects memory is\n    busy with never escape it; it only loses those it does not often\n    revert to.\"\n\n=69. Kant's rules touching benevolence and gratitude.=--To the maxims of\nthe ancients which we have just summed up, let us add a few principles\nborrowed of a modern moralist, the philosopher Kant:\n\n    _Benevolence._--Benevolence, when one is rich, and finds in his\n    superfluity the means of making others happy, should never be\n    considered by the benefactor even a meritorious duty. The satisfaction\n    he procures to himself thereby, and which does not cost him any\n    sacrifice, is a means of filling himself with moral sentiments.\n    Therefore must he carefully avoid looking as if he thought he was\n    obliging others; for otherwise his kindness would no longer be one;\n    since he would seem wishing to put under obligation the person to whom\n    he grants it. He should, on the contrary, show himself under\n    obligation, or as honored by the acceptance of his kindness, and\n    consequently fulfill this duty as he would pay a debt he had\n    contracted; or, what is still better, practice benevolence wholly in\n    secret. This virtue is still greater when the means for being\n    benevolent are restricted: it is then he deserves to be considered as\n    _very rich_ morally. (Kant, _Doctrine de la Vertu_, trad. Fr., p.\n    128.)\n\n    _Gratitude._--Gratitude should be considered a _holy_ duty. We call,\n    in fact, holy any moral object regarding which no act could entirely\n    acquit one of the contracted obligation. Now there is no way of\n    acquitting one's self of a benefit received, because he who receives\n    it cannot refuse to him who grants it the merit and advantage of\n    having been the first in showing his kindness.\n\n    The least degree of gratitude is to render to the benefactor\n    _equivalent services_. It is, also, never to look upon a kindness\n    received as upon a burden one would be glad to be rid of (under\n    pretext that it places the one under obligation in a position inferior\n    to that of his benefactor, which is wounding to his pride). One must,\n    on the contrary, accept it as a moral kindness, that is to say, as\n    furnishing us an opportunity to practice a virtue. (Ibid., p. 130,\n    132.)\n\n=70. Precautions which benevolence requires.=--Benevolence should not be\nexercised without reserve and precaution. In abandoning one's self to it\nimprudently, one may do more harm than good. Cicero on this subject\nrecommends three principal precautions:\n\n\"One must take care,\" he says:\n\n\"1. Lest, in wishing to do a person good, one does harm, either to him or\nto others;\n\n\"2. In the second place, let not our benevolence exceed our means;\n\n\"3. Finally, let every one be treated according to his deserts.\"\n\n    1. Those, in fact, whose benevolence injures him who is the object\n    thereof, should be looked upon as flatterers, rather than generous\n    men. Those who injure some, to be generous towards others (as, for\n    example, to omit paying one's debts, in order to exercise charity),\n    commit the same injustice as if they appropriated what belongs to\n    others. Thus, when Sylla and Caesar transferred to strangers the\n    property of lawful owners, they were not generous; liberality may\n    exist then where justice is absent.\n\n    2. The second precaution is to exercise our benevolence according to\n    our means. Those who wish to be more benevolent than they can afford,\n    are in the first place unjust to their family; since the property, to\n    the inheritance of which it has a right, goes thus over to strangers.\n    Such generosity often leads, moreover, to the enriching of one's self\n    at the expense of others, in order to provide for liberalities. One\n    sees, thus, many people, more vain than generous, pass for being\n    benevolent. It becomes then a borrowed virtue, which has more of\n    vanity than liberality.\n\n    3. The third rule is, whilst dispensing our liberalities, to\n    proportion them to merit; to consider the morals of him who is their\n    object, the attachment he shows us, the different relations he may\n    have with us; lastly, the services he may have rendered us. It were\n    desirable he had all these titles to our benevolence; but if he has\n    them not all, the greatest and largest in numbers should weigh most in\n    the scales.\n\n=71. Self-devotion--Self-abnegation--Sacrifice.=--When charity reaches the\nhighest degree; when it requires we should give to others what we hold\nmost dear--as, for instance, life, fortune, etc.--it takes another name\nand is called _devotion_, _self-abnegation_, _sacrifice_. These three\nwords, with various shadings, express the idea of a precious gift of which\none deprives himself to benefit others. One may devote one's self to\nothers in various ways, in choosing for one's object either the life, or\nwelfare, or liberty, or the morality and intelligence of others. Let us\nexamine these various forms of devotion.\n\n=72. The nature of the benefit.--Diverse forms of self-devotion.--The life,\nthe welfare, the morality of others, etc.=--_Sacrificing one's life for\nothers._--Justice requires we should not attack the life of others;\ncharity requires more: it demands that we make every effort to save the\nlife of our fellow-beings, even sometimes at the cost of our own.\n\nThis duty, which is a duty of charity for men in general, is a duty of\njustice for the physician and all those who have care of the sick. The\nphysician owes his devotion to the patient, as the soldier owes his to his\ncountry. In both these cases _medical duty_, _military duty_, devotion is\na strict duty. It is at the same time a duty towards men and a duty\ntowards the profession. It is in both cases what may be called the _honor\nof the flag_. Thus do we every year see a certain number of young hospital\nphysicians die, like soldiers on the field of honor.\n\nThe duty of attending the sick and being thereby exposed to contagion,\nfalls alike on all who have chosen this profession: sisters of charity,\nthe nurses, the male and female attendants in infirmaries. It is also a\nduty in the family; the parents owe themselves to their children; the\nservants themselves should assume in a certain measure the same\nresponsibility, although it is the duty of the masters to spare them as\nmuch as possible. Moreover, it is known how common this devotion is,\nespecially with mothers, and how many of them die of the illness they have\ncontracted at the bedside of their children. In all these circumstances,\nit is of course not forbidden to be cautious, and wisdom requires one\nshould not go beyond the strictly necessary; but the necessary is\nobligatory; and on whom should it fall more naturally than on the parents?\n\nBesides the illnesses which threaten the lives of men, there are dangers\nmore sudden, more violent, more terrible, which arise from the invasion of\nthe forces of nature: fire and water are the most terrible;\nconflagrations, inundations, shipwrecks, catastrophes of all kinds imperil\nthe lives of men.\n\nHere the question is no longer one of slow and leisurely attentions. To\nsave a life which a minute later will be extinguished, there is wanted a\nsudden resolution, a well-tested courage, and the will to risk one's life\nfor that of another. In these terrible circumstances there are some men\nwho seem to be more naturally called than others to sacrifice themselves;\nfor example, firemen and sailors. It is certain that it is those who are\nthe more familiar with the element it is necessary to combat, that are\nmost called to do so, and for whom self-devotion becomes a greater duty.\nBut it is not always possible to have them immediately at hand; in a\nsudden catastrophe, all must take their share of the peril; all must be\nready to give their life for others if they can do so with some utility.\n\n_Devotion towards the wretched._--Next to health and life, what men most\nesteem are material goods and that which is called fortune. Certainly, we\nshould not encourage this estimation men have for material goods; one\nshould as much as possible teach them to do without them; and the saying\nthat happiness resides rather in a small competence than in riches, is\nmost true. But it is not less true that the material things are absolutely\nnecessary to life, and that the absence of these things is in every\nrespect prejudicial to man, since health, life, and even the interests of\nthe soul and mind, depend on these material goods. How can we educate\nourselves without eating? How can we improve the heart and soul when want\nimpels us to all sorts of temptations? Finally, suffering itself, though\nmorality commands us to bear it with courage, is a legitimate object of\nsympathy. From all these considerations arises, for those who possess\nanything, the obligation to come to the assistance of those who have\nnothing: this is what is called _gift_. This obligation can be satisfied\nin many ways, but the mode should certainly consist with the dignity and\nresponsibility of those who are the object of the gift. Experience has\nshown that an ill-understood charity encourages idleness and often rewards\nand perpetuates vice. It is therefore work which should above all be\nfurnished to the poor: the loan should generally be preferred to the gift;\nbut finally, whatever precautions one may take, and whatever be the causes\nof the misery, there comes always a moment when, in presence of hunger,\nillness, supreme want, one must give; must deprive himself for others. As\nto the particular rules which govern benevolence, we have given them above\nin speaking of benefactions.\n\n_Consolations, exhortations, instructions._ After the duties toward the\nbody come the duties toward the soul: and this distinction has place for\nothers as for ourselves. It is not enough to insure and save the lives of\nmen, and give them the daily bread; one must also nourish their souls,\ntheir intelligences, their moral weaknesses, which also need sustenance.\nThence three different obligations: to _console_ the afflicted; to\n_exhort_ the weak; to _instruct_ the ignorant. The consoling of the\nafflicted is a virtue, which needs no rule, and does not admit of any. One\ndoes not console by order, by processes, by principles. Here the heart is\nbetter than strict laws. Listen to your heart; it will teach you how to be\nmerciful without being indiscreet; how to touch without wounding; how to\nsay enough without saying too much. In respect to poor people, one often\nconsoles them by relieving their misery, and the duty here blends with\nbenevolence. After the consolation come the _exhortations_. The duty here\nbecomes more and more delicate. It is no easy thing to advise men; we have\nnot even always a right to do so; for it is attributing to ourselves a\ncertain superiority over them. This duty of exhortation is therefore an\naffectation of pride rather than an inspiration of fraternity. It is\nespecially with children, with young people, that good exhortations\nproperly made can be useful. In a few words, moderate and just, one may\noften recall to them their duties of respect towards themselves, and of\neconomy, sobriety, devotion towards their relatives. Finally comes the\nduty of _instruction_. Here it is not the office of all, but only of those\nwho are charged with this function. Yet may we contribute our share\ntowards the instruction of children either by money-contributions, or by\nvisiting the schools, or by encouragement-societies; in a word, by all\nsorts of auxiliary means. Such are the principal duties in regard to\nsouls.\n\n=73. Clemency.--Pardon of injuries.--Love of enemies.=--The foregoing\nduties consist not only in returning good for evil, but also in doing good\nto those who have not done us any. A superior degree of charity, which is\ncalled _generosity_, consists in returning good for evil, in forgiving the\nwicked,--not the wrong they have done to others, but the wrong they have\ndone to ourselves. This, in the case of sovereigns, is called _clemency_.\nThe saying of Louis XII. is well known, having pardoned the enemies he had\nhad before taking the crown: \"The king,\" said he, \"should forget the\ninjuries done to the duke of Orleans.\" The great Conde was moved to tears\nover Corneille's celebrated lines in _Cinna_:\n\n  \"Let us be friends, Cinna; it is I who invite thee:\n  I gave thee thy life as to my enemy,\n  And despite the fury of thy cowardly designs,\n  I still give it thee, as to my murderer.\"\n\nThe duty of returning good for evil goes even further than clemency and\nthe pardon of injuries: for this is nothing more than to abstain from\nwronging one's enemies. But we should do more: we must be capable of doing\ngood to our enemies when they deserve it, or need it; and further still,\nwe should try to carry the virtue even so far as to interdict ourselves\nany feeling of pride, which would naturally arise in a heart great enough\nto avenge itself by benefits.\n\nThe philosopher Spinoza has admirably expressed this doctrine: \"Hatred\nmust be overcome not by hatred, but by love and generosity.\"\n\n=74. Duties of kindness towards animals.=--Among the moralists, there are\nsome who do not admit that we have any duties towards beings inferior to\nman, namely, animals; others, on the contrary, do not admit any duties\ntowards any above man, consequently towards God; others, in fine, deny\nthat man has any towards himself. There are scarcely any duties, except\nthose towards our fellow-beings, that have not been questioned by one or\nthe other of the moralists: some connecting the latter with the duties\ntowards ourselves, or the duties towards God.\n\nAccording to us, there are four classes of duties, and these four classes\nare not reducible the one to the other.[52]\n\nNo one can deny from a practical point of view that there are duties\ntowards animals; for we know very well that it is not permitted to\nmaltreat them or cause them unnecessary pain; and every enlightened\nconscience condemns cruelty to animals. Therefore can there be here\nquestion only of a speculative scruple. It can be very well seen that\nthere is a duty here; but it is, they say, a duty towards ourselves; for\nit is our duty not to be cruel, and cruelty toward animals accustoms us\ntoo easily to cruelty toward men. But this is a very useless subtlety, and\ntoo roundabout a way to express a very simple thing. We prefer simply\nsaying that kindness toward an animal is a duty toward that animal.\n\nBesides, the reasons given against the duties toward animals, appear to us\nmore specious than substantial. It is said that animals, having neither\nwill nor intelligence, are not _persons_, but _things_; that,\nconsequently, they have no _rights_, and that we can have no duties toward\nwhat has no rights.\n\nThese are inadmissible subtleties. One can, in law terms, divide all\nobjects of nature into persons and things; and animals, not being\npersons, are things, in the sense that they can be _appropriated_. But,\nstrictly speaking, can a being endowed with sensibility be called a thing?\nIs it true, moreover, that an animal has no intelligence, no will--that\nconsequently it has not any vestige of personality? Is it true again that\nan animal has no kind of rights? This, in the first place, is to suppose\nwhat is in question. And, moreover, does not conscience say to us that an\nanimal which has served us long years with affection has thereby acquired\na certain right to our gratitude? And, finally, is it really true that we\nhave only duties towards those that have duties towards us? That were a\nvery perilous maxim in social morality. We are told not to be cruel to\nanimals in order not to become cruel towards men. But if one were sure not\nto become cruel towards men, would it follow therefrom that it is\npermitted to be so towards animals? No, it will be said; but it is because\ncruelty, though its object be only animals, is in itself a vice, base and\nunworthy of man. One should not conclude from that, that cruelty is a\ndirect crime against them. But for the same reason it might be maintained\nthat we have no duties toward others, and only toward ourselves;\ninjustice, cruelty, are odious vices in themselves; goodness and justice,\nnoble qualities; we should shun the one and avoid the other out of respect\nfor ourselves, and regardless of the object of these vices and virtues.\nIf, despite these considerations, it is then thought better to make,\nnevertheless, a distinction between the duties toward others and those\ntoward ourselves, there should for the same reason be made a distinct\nclass of the duties toward animals. Finally, if we owe nothing to animals,\nit is not very clear why acts hypothetically indifferent should be treated\nas cruelties; nor why such acts should be considered as lowering and\ndishonoring the character.\n\nOn the whole, and to avoid all theoretical difficulties, it may be said\nthat we have duties, if not toward animals, at least _in regard_ to\nanimals.\n\nOur duties in regard to animals, are they, however, of a kind to make us\ndoubt our right to destroy or reduce them to servitude?\n\nThe destruction of animals may have two causes; it may be for our defense,\nit may be for our subsistence. As to the first there is no difficulty; the\nright of legitimate self-defense authorizes us to destroy what would\notherwise destroy us. Between us and beasts injurious to man there is\nevidently a state of natural war, and in that state the law is that might\nmakes right. This same law is the one which regulates the relations of the\nanimals between themselves: it is also their law in regard to us. The\nlion, for instance, might not always be as tenderly inclined as the lion\nof Androcles or the lion of Florence: it would not be well to trust it. We\nneed not, therefore, even theoretically, entertain any scruples concerning\nthe destruction of injurious animals.\n\nIs it the same with the destruction of animals intended for our\nnourishment? Is this destruction innocent, or must we, as did the\nPythagoreans or Brahmins of old (for superstitious reasons, however),\ninterdict all animal food?[53] This question has been so well solved by\ngeneral usage that it is scarcely necessary to raise it. It is not likely\nmen will ever think of giving up animal food, and no one regrets having\neaten of a good roast. Yet for those who like to find out the reason of\nthings, it is a problem to know whether we have the right to do what we do\nwithout remorse and scruples; and whether a universal and apparently\nindestructible practice is also a legitimate and innocent practice. Man,\naccording to us, in living on flesh, is justified by nature herself, who\nmade him a carnivorous creature. Every being is authorized to perform the\nacts which result from its organization.[54] The human organization, as\nthe nature of the teeth and the whole digestive system indicate, is\nprepared to nourish itself with flesh. In many countries even all other\nnourishment is impossible; there are peoples whose very situation makes\nthem necessarily hunters, fishermen, or shepherds; it is only in some\ncountries highly favored, and, thanks to scientific cultivation, the\nresult of civilization, that vegetable food could be made abundant enough\nto suffice, and hardly that for large masses of population; for we know\nquite well what disasters follow upon a scarcity of crops. What would be\nthe result if the human race were deprived of half its means of\nsubsistence? Add to this that, whatever may have been said against it,\nanimal food mixed in a certain measure with vegetable food, is\nindispensable to the health and vigor of the human race.\n\nAs to the servitude of animals and the labor we impose on them, its\njustification lies first in the principle of legitimate self-defense, to\nwhich we have just now alluded. Many of our domestic races would, in a\nsavage state, become veritable wild beasts. The wild hog is, they say, the\nwild boar; the wild dog, the jackal; the wild cat belongs to the leopard\nand tiger family. In reducing these sorts of animals to servitude, and in\nmaking of them companions and help-mates in our work, we thereby deliver\nourselves from dangerous enemies. Domestication is better than\ndestruction. Add to this, that if we except the first animals which have\npassed from the savage state to the domestic state (which, as to our\ndomestic races, is lost in the night of time and escapes all\nresponsibility), the present animals, born in servitude, know no other\nstate, do not suffer from a want of liberty, and find even, thanks to our\ncares, a more certain subsistence than if they were free. They are, it is\ntrue, sacrificed by us to our wants, but they would be so by other animals\nin the savage state. Whether a sheep be eaten by men or wolves, it is not\nto be more pitied for that, one way or the other.\n\nThe right of man over animals being set aside, there remains an essential\nduty respecting them, namely: not to make them suffer without necessity.\n\nFontenelle relates that, having gone one day to see Malebranche,[55] at\nthe fathers of the _Oratoire_, a dog of the house, big with young, entered\nthe room and rolled about at the feet of the father. After having tried in\nvain to drive it away, Malebranche gave the dog a kick which caused it to\nutter a cry of pain and Fontenelle a cry of compassion: \"Oh, pshaw!\" said\nfather Malebranche, coolly, \"do you not know that these things do not\nfeel?\"\n\nHow could this philosopher be sure that _these things_ did not feel? Is\nnot the animal organized in the same manner as man? Has he not the same\nsenses, the same nervous system? Does he not give the same signs of\nimpressions received? Why should not the cry of the animal express pain as\ndoes the cry of a child? When man is not perverted by custom, cruelty, or\nthe spirit of system, he cannot see the sufferings of animals without\nsuffering himself, a manifest proof that there is something in common\nbetween them and us, for sympathy is by reason of similitude.\n\nAnimals, then, suffer; this is undeniable; they have, like ourselves, a\nphysical sensibility; but they have also a certain moral sensibility; they\nare capable of attachment, of gratitude, of fidelity; of love for their\nlittle ones, of reciprocal affection. From this physical and moral analogy\nbetween men and animals, there obviously results the obligation of\ninflicting upon them no useless suffering. Madame Necker de Saussure[56]\nrelates the story of a child who, finding himself in a garden where a\ntamed quail was freely running about beside the cage of a bird of prey,\nyielded to the temptation of seizing the poor quail and giving it to the\nbird to devour. The hero of this adventure relates himself the punishment\ninflicted on him:\n\n\"At dinner--there was a great deal of company that day--the master of the\nhouse began to relate the scene, coolly and without any remarks, simply\nnaming me. When he was through, there was a moment of general silence,\nwhere every one looked at me with a kind of horror. I heard some words\nexchanged among the guests, and without any one's directly speaking to me,\nI could understand that everybody thought me a monster.\"\n\nConnected with the cruelty toward animals are certain barbarous games\nwhere animals are made to fight with each other for our pleasure. Such are\nthe bull-fights in Spain; the cock-fights in England; we do not go so far\nas to rank the chase among inhuman games, because, on the one hand, it has\nfor its object to destroy the animals injurious to our forests and crops,\nand to furnish us useful food; and on the other, it is an exercise\nfavorable to health, and exercises certain faculties of the soul; but the\nchase must at least not be a massacre, and must have for its end utility.\n\nBrutality toward the animals which render us the greatest services, and\nwhich we see every day loaded beyond their strength, and beaten to bear up\nunder the load, is also an odious act, and doubly wrong, as it is both\ncontrary to humanity and contrary to our interests, since these animals,\noverloaded and beaten, will not be long in succumbing to the violence of\ntheir persecutors.\n\nNor can we consider as absolutely indifferent the act of killing or\nselling (except in cases of extreme necessity) a domestic animal that has\nserved us a long time, and whose attachment we have experienced. \"Among\nthe conquerors at the Olympic Games,\" the ancients tell us, \"many share\nthe distinctions which they receive with the horses which have helped to\nprocure them; they provide for them a happy old age; they accord them an\nhonorable burial, and sometimes even raise a monument over their graves.\"\n\n    \"It is not reasonable,\" says Plutarch, \"to use things which have life\n    and feeling, as we would use a shoe or any other instrument, throwing\n    it away when worn out and ruined by dint of service done; if it were\n    for no other cause than to induce and stimulate us to constant\n    compassion, we should accustom ourselves to gentleness and\n    charitableness, even to performing the humblest offices of kindness;\n    as for me, I should never have the heart to sell an ox who for a long\n    time had ploughed my land, because, by reason of old age, he can no\n    longer work.\"\n\nA very serious question has been raised these latter times, namely, the\nquestion of _vivisection_, and how far, in a scientific point of view, we\nhave a right to practice on living animals. The point is not to interdict\nto science what is the indispensable condition of its progress and\npropagation; but we should limit ourself to the strictly necessary, and\nnot with revolting prodigality multiply sacrifices that are not absolutely\nuseful.\n\nOne of the principal reasons for condemning cruelty toward animals, is\nthat through the instinct of imitation and sympathy men may get into the\nhabit of doing to others what they have seen practiced on animals. There\nis a story of a child who caused his brother to suffer the same death he\nhad just seen inflicted on an animal.[57]\n\nThe men who are brutal toward animals are likewise so toward each other,\nand treat with the same cruelty their wives and children.\n\nIt is by reason of these considerations of social utility and humanity\nthat the law in France decided to interfere to prevent and punish the bad\ntreatment inflicted upon animals;[58] and the consequences of this measure\nhave been most happy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nDUTIES TOWARD THE STATE.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =Three groups of societies among men:= _Humanity_, _the family_, _the\n    country_, _or the State_.\n\n    =Analysis of patriotism.=\n\n    _Foundation of the State._--Law and rights. Public authority:\n    distinction between society and the State. The three powers.\n    Sovereignty. The right of punishment.\n\n    =Duties toward the State:= 1. _Obedience to the laws._--The _Crito_ of\n    Plato. Pretended exceptions to this principle. Criticising the laws is\n    not disobedience.\n\n    2. _Respect to magistrates._--The magistrates being the\n    representatives of the laws, to respect them is to respect the law\n    itself; to insult them is to insult the law.\n\n    3. _The ballot._--Obligation to vote. The character of the ballot: 1,\n    _disinterested_; 2, _free_; 3, _enlightened_.\n\n    4. _Taxes._--Immorality of frauds against the State.\n\n    5. _Military service._--Legal and moral obligation. Attempts to escape\n    it: 1, by mutilations; 2, by simulated infirmities; 3, by desertion;\n    want of discipline.\n\n    6. _Educational obligation._\n\n    =Civil courage.=--Noted example: Boissy d'Anglas.\n\n\n=75. Three groups of societies.=--Cicero and Fenelon remark that there are\nthree sorts of societies among men: the first comprises the whole of\n_humanity_; the last, which is the most circumscribed, is what is called\nthe _family_. But between the family and the human race in general, there\nis an intermediate society, larger than the one and more circumscribed\nthan the other, and this is what is called the _country_.\n\n=76. Patriotism.=--The sentiment which binds us to the country, and which,\narticulated, becomes a _duty_, is what is called _patriotism_. We have\nalready given elsewhere,[59] an analysis of patriotism. Let us repeat what\nwe have said:\n\n    Patriotism is one of our most complex sentiments: it is in fact\n    composed of many distinct elements: it is, in the first place, the\n    _love of the soil_ where we were born; and this soil is at first the\n    narrow territory where our youth passed, and which we embraced entire\n    with the eyes and recollections: it is the native village, the native\n    city. But if this is the first sense of country, it falls far short of\n    embracing the whole country. The love for the native church steeple is\n    not patriotism: it is even its opposite often. The soil must extend,\n    widen, and from the natal house, must gradually embrace, by successive\n    additions, the village, the town, the county, the province, the whole\n    country. But what is to determine the extent of this territory? Who is\n    to decide that it shall go so far and no farther? There enter into it\n    many elements: first, the inhabitants, the fellow-citizens,\n    fellow-countrymen; a soil deserted would not be a country; to the love\n    of the territory there must be added the love of those who inhabit it\n    with us, or of our _fellow-countrymen_; to the nomadic people the\n    country is only their tribe. Conversely, the citizens without the soil\n    are not the country either, for exile in common is not the less exile.\n    Finally, the union of soil and fellow-citizens may still not be the\n    country, at least not all the country; a conquered nation may preserve\n    its soil and its inhabitants, and have lost the country: as Poland,\n    for instance. What, then, are the ties to determine the existence of a\n    country? There are a large number of them, such as _the unity of\n    language_, _the unity of laws_, _the unity of the flag_, _historic\n    tradition_, and, finally, above all, the _unity of government_ and of\n    an accepted government. A country exists only where there is an\n    independent political state. This political unity does not suffice\n    when the other ties are wanting; when it is a constraint, when peoples\n    united under the same government have different manners, customs,\n    traditions; conversely, unity of language and community of habits,\n    will neither be sufficient when the political unity or a certain form\n    of political unity is wanting. But what, before everything else,\n    constitutes the country, is a common spirit, a common soul, in short,\n    a common name, which fuses into one all these separate facts of which\n    no single one is absolutely necessary, but of which each forms an\n    additional element to the strength of the country. Finally, as a last\n    condition, the association which is to become a country must not, as\n    was the case with the Roman empire, extend over too much territory;\n    for beyond certain limits, patriotism relaxes.\n\nNature has endowed us with this sentiment of patriotism. There is no one\nthat does not love his country better than other countries, that is not\nflattered by national glory, that does not suffer from the humiliations\nand miseries of his native country. But this sentiment is more or less\nstrong, according to temperaments. Often it is nothing more than a\nsentiment, and does not express itself in actions. It is the reflective\nfaculties which make of patriotism a duty, which duty demands that\nsentiment pass into action; demands of all the citizens the same acts,\nwhatever be the personal inclinations of each.\n\nThe duties imposed on each man in regard to the particular society of\nwhich he is a member, are called _civil_ duties. He, himself, in regard to\nthis society, is what is called a _citizen_; finally, the society itself,\nconsidered as one and the same person, of which the citizens are the\nmembers, is what is called the _State_ or the _city_.\n\nOn the whole, there is no difference between _country_ and _State_.\nCountry is at the same time _Society_ and _soil_. It is called by that\nname (State) when looked upon in the light of a family of which the\ncitizens are the children, and also when considered in its relations with\nother nations and other societies. The State is that same society\nconsidered interiorly and in itself, not as to its soil and territory, but\nas to the members that compose it, and in as far as these members form one\nand the same body and are governed by laws. The country is a more concrete\nand more vivid expression, which appeals more to the feelings; the State\nis a more abstract expression, which addresses itself to reason. Besides,\nwe shall understand better what is meant by the State, when we shall have\nexplained the nature of public authority and the laws.\n\n=77. Foundation of the State--Rights.=--To understand the nature of the\nState and what is called _authority_, _sovereignty_, _magistracy_, _law_,\none must begin with the notion of rights and of the different kinds of\nrights.\n\nDuty is the law which imposes on us obligations either toward ourselves or\ntoward others; it is a _moral necessity_ (p. 11). _Rights_ is the _power_\nwe have to exercise and develop our faculties conformably to our destiny,\nprovided we allow other men the same power: it is a _moral power_\n(Leibnitz). Each man, by reason of his enjoying liberty and intelligence,\nis a _person_, and should not be treated as a _thing_. \"Man is a thing\nsacred to man,\" said the ancients. He is inviolable in his personality and\nin all that constitutes the development of his personality.\n\nThence follows an immediate consequence: it is, that every man being man\nby the same title, no one can claim for himself a right which he is not\nwilling to recognize at the same time in another; hence the _equality of\nrights_. Besides, the liberty of one cannot, without contradiction,\nsuppress the liberty of another, whence this other definition: Right is\nthe _accord of liberties_.\n\n=78. The rights of man.=--What are the principal rights of man? They are:\nthe right of _self-preservation_; the right of going and coming, or\n_individual liberty_; the _liberty of work_; the _right of property_; the\n_liberty of thought_; the _liberty of conscience_; the _right of family_,\netc.\n\nWe have also seen that man (p. 52) has a final right which is the guaranty\nand the sanction of all others; it is the right of preventing by force\nevery attempt at his rights; to _constrain_ others to respect his rights,\nand lastly, to _punish_ every violation of his rights. This is what is\ncalled the _right of self-defense_.\n\n=79. Public authority.=--Man having, as we have just seen, the right of\nself-defense by opposing force to any attack, possesses, when alone, and\nfar from all human help, this right in all its plenitude. But it is easy\nto see the dangers and inexpediency of such a right in a society. Each\nman, in fact, when he meets with opposition to his will and desires,\nalways thinks himself injured in his rights. If every one were free to\ndefend himself in all circumstances, the right of self-defense would keep\nmen constantly under arms; and society, without a regulating power to\ncheck their doings, would soon, as the philosopher Hobbes expressed it, be\n\"_the war of all against all_.\" Hence the necessity of the State--that is\nto say, of a _disinterested power_--taking in hand the defense of all, and\ninsuring the proper exercise of the right of self-defense by suppressing\nits abuses. This is what is called _public authority_.\n\n=80. Society and the State.=--We must distinguish between _society_ and the\n_State_, or _natural_ society and _civil_ society.\n\nSociety is the union which exists between men, without distinction of\nfrontiers--without exterior restraint--and for the sole reason that they\nare men. An Englishman and an Indian, as Locke says, meeting in the waste\nforests of America (Robinson and Friday), are, from the fact alone of\ntheir common nature, in a state of society.\n\nThe _civil society_ or _State_ is an assemblage of men subject to a common\n_authority_, to common _laws_--that is to say, a society whose members may\nbe constrained by public force to respect their reciprocal rights.\n\n=81. The three powers.=--There results from that, that two necessary\nelements enter into the idea of the State: _laws_ and _force_. The laws\nare the general rules which establish beforehand and fix after\ndeliberation, and abstractly, the rights of each; force is the physical\nrestraint the public power is armed with to have the laws executed. Hence\ntwo _powers_ in the State, the _legislative_ power and the _executive_\npower--one that makes the law; the other that executes it, and to which\nmay generally be added a third, namely, _judiciary_ power, which, on its\npart, is empowered to apply and interpret the law.[60]\n\n=82. Sovereignty.=--These three powers emanate from a common source which\nis called _sovereign_. In all States, the sovereign is the authority which\nis in possession of the three preceding powers and delegates them. In an\nabsolute monarchy, the sovereign is the monarch, who of himself exercises\nthe legislative and executive power, sometimes even the judicial power. In\na democracy, the sovereign is the universality of the citizens, or the\n_people_, which delegates the three powers, and even in some cases\nexercises them.\n\nAs to the basis of sovereignty, two systems face each other: the _divine\nright_ and the _sovereignty of the people_. In the first, the authority\nemanates from God, who transmits it to chosen families; in the second,\nsocieties, like individuals, are free arbiters, and belong to themselves;\nthey are answerable for their destinies; and this can only be true of the\nentire society; for why should certain classes rather than others have the\nprivilege to decide about the fate of each? The sovereignty of the people\nis then nothing else than the right of each to participate in public\npower, either of himself or through his representatives. This principle\ntends more and more to predominate in civilized States.\n\n=83. Political liberty.=--Political liberty means all the guaranties which\ninsure to every citizen the legitimate exercise of his natural rights;\npolitical liberty is, then, the sanction of civil liberty.\n\nThe principal of these guaranties are: 1, the _right of suffrage_, which\ninsures to every one his share of sovereignty; 2, the _separation of\npowers_, which puts into different hands the _executive_, _legislative_,\nand _judicial_ powers; 3, the _liberty of the press_, which insures the\nright of minorities, and allows them to employ argument to change or\nmodify the ideas and opinions of the majority.\n\n=84. The right of punishment.=--The right of punishment in a State is\nnothing else than the right of restraint, which, as we have already seen,\nis inherent in the very idea of the State; for the State only exists to\ninsure to each the exercise of his rights, and it can only do so by\nrestraint and the use of force. How far can this right of force go? Can\nit, for example, go so far as the taking of life even? This is a mooted\nquestion between publicists, and upon which we have, moreover, already\nexpressed ourselves (p. 55 _et seq._).\n\nAfter having in these summary views resolved the principle upon which the\nState rests,[61] and the essential elements which enter into the idea, we\nare better prepared to approach what constitutes the object proper of\ncivil morality, namely, the duties of citizens toward the country or the\nState.\n\n=85. Civil duties.=--These duties are the following: _Obedience to the\nlaws_; _respect of magistrates_; _the ballot_; _military service_;\n_educational obligations_.\n\n=86. Obedience to the laws.=--The first of the civil duties, is _obedience\nto the laws_. The reason is evident. The State rests on the law. It is the\nlaw which substitutes, for the will of individuals, always more or less\ncarried away by passion or governed by self-interest, a general,\nimpartial, and disinterested rule. The law is the guaranty of all: it\nopposes itself to force, or rather puts force in the service of justice,\ninstead of making of justice the slave of force. Pascal says: \"Not being\nable to make that which is just, strong, men have wished that what is\nstrong should be just.\" This is the jest of a misanthrope. Certainly the\nlaws are not always as just as they might be, despite the efforts made to\nrender them so: the reason of it is, the extreme complexity of interests\nbetween which it is difficult to find a true balance and just equilibrium;\nbut such as they are, they are infinitely more just than the right of the\nstrongest, which would alone reign if there were no laws.\n\nThe empire of the laws is then that which secures _order_ in a society,\nand consequently procures for each of its members security and peace, and\nthrough these, the means of devoting himself to his work, whether\nintellectual or material, and of reaping the fruits thereof.\n\nAt the same time that the law guarantees order within, it also insures the\nindependence of the nation from without. For a nation without laws, or\nwhich no longer obeys its laws, falls into anarchy and becomes the prey of\nthe first conqueror who presents himself, as is shown by the history of\nPoland.\n\nIt is especially in democratic or republican states, that obedience to the\nlaws is necessary, as it is there the most difficult.\n\nMontesquieu has shown with great sagacity the difficulty and thereby the\nnecessity of obedience to the laws in a democracy; in fact, what in other\ngovernments is obtained by constraint, in a democracy depends only upon\nthe will of the citizens.\n\n    \"It is clear,\" says Montesquieu, \"that in a monarchy, where he who\n    causes the laws to be executed is above the laws, there is less virtue\n    requisite than in a popular government, where he who causes the laws\n    to be executed, feels that he is himself subject to them, and will\n    have to bear the consequence of their violation.\n\n    \"It is further clear that a monarch who, through bad advice or\n    negligence, ceases to have the laws executed, may easily repair the\n    evil; he has but to change counselors or correct himself of his\n    negligence. But when in a popular government, the laws have ceased to\n    be executed, as this can only happen through the corruption of the\n    republic, the State is already lost.\"\n\nMontesquieu then describes, in the strongest and liveliest colors, a\nrepublican state where the laws have ceased to be enforced.\n\n    \"They were free with the laws; they wish to be free without them. Each\n    citizen is as a slave escaped from the house of his master. What\n    before was called _maxim_, is now called _severity_; what was _rule_\n    is now annoying _restraint_; what was _attention_, is now _fear_. The\n    republic has become booty, and its strength is no longer anything more\n    than the power of a few and the license of all.\"\n\nIn the republics of Athens and Rome, as long as they were prosperous and\ngreat, the empire of the laws was admirable. Socrates, in his prison, gave\nof this a sublime example. He was unjustly condemned by his\nfellow-citizens to drink the hemlock, namely, to die by poison. Meanwhile,\nhis friends pressed him to resort to flight; and everything leads to the\nbelief that this would have been quite easy, as the judges themselves\nalmost wished to be relieved of the responsibility of his death. Yet\nSocrates resisted, and refused to employ this means of safety. The\nprincipal reason given by him was, that, having been condemned by the laws\nof his country, he could save himself only by violating these laws.\n\nThis is what Plato has expressed in the dialogue entitled _Crito_. The\nlaws of the country are represented as addressing a speech to Socrates; it\nis called the _Prosopopoeia[62] of Crito_:\n\n    \"Socrates,\" they will say to me, \"was that our agreement, or was it\n    not rather that thou shouldst submit to the judgments rendered by the\n    republic?... What cause of complaint hast thou against us that thou\n    shouldst try to destroy us? Dost thou not, in the first place, owe us\n    thy life? Was it not under our auspices that thy father took to\n    himself the companion that gave thee birth? If thou owest us thy birth\n    and education, canst thou deny that thou art our child and servant?\n    And if this be so, thinkest thou thy rights equal to ours; and that\n    thou art permitted to make us suffer for what we make thee suffer?\n    What! in the case of a father or a master, if thou hadst one, thou\n    wouldst not have the right to do to him what he would do to thee; to\n    speak to him insultingly if he insulted thee; to strike him, if he\n    struck thee, nor anything like it; and thou shouldst hold such a right\n    toward thy country! and if we had sentenced thee to death, thinking\n    the sentence just, thou shouldst undertake to destroy us!... Does not\n    thy wisdom teach thee that the country has a greater right to thy\n    respect and homage, that it is more august and more wise before the\n    gods and the sages, than father, mother, and all ancestors; that the\n    country in its anger must be respected, that one must convince it of\n    its error through persuasion, or obey its commands, suffer without\n    murmuring whatever it orders to be suffered, even to be beaten and\n    loaded with chains?... What else then dost thou do?\" they would\n    proceed to say, \"than violate the treaty that binds thee to us, and\n    trample under foot thy agreement?... In suffering thy sentence, thou\n    diest an honorable victim of the iniquity, not of the laws, but of\n    men; but if thou takest to flight, thou repellest unworthily injustice\n    by injustice, evil by evil, and thou violatest the treaty whereby thou\n    wert under obligation to us: thou imperilest those it was thy duty to\n    protect, thou imperilest thyself, thy friends, thy country, and us. We\n    shall be thy enemies all thy life; and when thou shalt descend to the\n    dead, our sisters, the laws of Hades, knowing that thou hast tried thy\n    best to destroy us here, will not receive thee very favorably.\"\n\n_Pretended Exceptions._--The duty of obedience to the laws must then be\nadmitted as a principle; but is this duty absolute? is it not susceptible\nof some exceptions? A learned theologian of the XVI. century, a Jesuit,\nSuarez (_Traite des lois_, III., iv.), admits three exceptions to the\nobedience due to the law: 1, if a law is unjust--for an unjust law is no\nlaw--not only is one not obliged to accept, but even, when accepted, one\nis not obliged to obey it; 2, if it is too hard; for then one may\nreasonably presume that the law was not made by the prince with the\nabsolute intention that it should be obeyed, but rather as an experiment;\nnow, under this supposition one can always begin by not observing it;--3,\nif, in fact, the majority of the people have ceased to observe it, even\nthough the first who had commenced should have sinned; the minority is not\nobliged to observe what the majority has abandoned: for one cannot suppose\nthe prince to intend obliging such or such individuals to observe it, when\nthe community at large have ceased observing it.\n\nThese exceptions, proposed by Suarez, are inadmissible, at least the two\nfirst. To authorize disobedience to unjust laws is introducing into\nsociety an inward principle of destruction. All law is supposed to be\njust, otherwise it is arbitrariness and not law. Every man finds always\nthe law that punishes him unjust. If there are unjust laws, which is\npossible, we must ask their abrogation; and, in these our days, the\nliberty of the press is ready to give satisfaction to the need of\ncriticism; but, in the meantime, we must obey. The second exception is not\ntenable either. To say that it is permitted to disobey a law when it is\ntoo hard, in supposing that the prince only made it for an experiment, is\nto permit the eluding of all the laws: for every law is hard for somebody;\nand there is, besides, no determining the hardness of laws. Such an\nappreciation is, moreover, fictitious; a prince who makes a law is\nsupposed _a priori_ to wish it executed: to say that he only meant to try\nus therewith is a wholly gratuitous invention. Certainly one may by such\nconduct succeed in wearing a law out when the prince is feeble; but it is\nnot the less unjust, and no State could resist such a cause of\ndissolution. As to the third exception, it can be admitted that there are\nlaws fallen into disuse, and which are no longer applied by any one\nbecause they stand in contradiction to the manners, and are no longer of\nany use; but, except in such case, it is nowise permitted to say that it\nis sufficient for the majority to disobey to entitle the minority to do\nthe same. For instance, if it pleased the majority to engage in smuggling,\nor to make false declarations in the matter of taxes, it would nowise\nacquit the good citizens from continuing to fulfill their duty.\n\nNow, if it is an absolute duty to obey a law, we must, at the same time,\nadmit as a corrective, the right of criticising the law. This right is the\nright of the minority, and it is recognized to-day in all civilized\ncountries. A law may, in fact, be unjust or erroneous: it may have been\nintroduced by passion, by party-spirit; even without having been\noriginally unjust, it may have become so in time through change in\nmanners; it may also be the work of ignorance, prejudice, etc.; and\nthereby hurtful. Hence the necessity of what is called the _liberty of the\npress_, the inviolable guaranty of the minorities. But the right of\n_criticising_ the law is not the right of _insulting_ it. Discussion is\nnot _insult_. Every law is entitled to respect because it is a law; it is\nthe expression of the public reason, the public will, of sovereignty. One\nmay try to _persuade_ the sovereign by reasoning, and induce him to change\nthe law; one should not inspire _contempt_ which leads unavoidably to\ndisobedience.\n\n=87. Respect for magistrates.=--Another duty, which is the corollary to\nobedience to the laws, is the _respect for the magistrate_. The\nmagistrate--that is, the functionary, whoever he be, in charge of the\nexecution of the laws--should be obeyed, not only because he represents\nforce, but also because he is the expression of the law. For this reason,\nhe should be for all an object of respect. The person is nothing; it is\nthe authority itself that is entitled to respect, and not such or such an\nindividual. Many ignorant persons are always disposed to regard the\nfunctionary as a tyrant, and every act of authority, an act of oppression.\nThis is a puerile and lamentable prejudice. The greatest oppression is\nalways that of individual passions, and the most dangerous of despotisms\nis anarchy: for then it is the right of the strongest which alone\npredominates. Authority, whatever it be, makes the maintenance of order\nits special interest, and order is the guaranty of every one. The\nmagistrate is, moreover, entitled to respect, as he represents the\ncountry; if the country be a family, the authority of the magistrate\nshould be regarded the same as that of the head of the family, an\nauthority entitled to respect even in its errors.\n\n=88. The ballot.=--Of all the special obligations which we have enumerated,\nthe most important to point out is that of the _ballot_, because it is\nfree and left entirely at the will of the citizens.\n\nIn regard to the other obligations, constraint may, up to a certain point,\nsupply the good will; he who does not pay his taxes from a sense of duty,\nis obliged to pay them from necessity; but the ballot is free; one may\nvote or not vote; one may vote for whom he pleases: there is no other\nrestraint than the sense of duty; for this reason, it is necessary to\ninsist on this kind of obligation.\n\n1. It is a duty to vote. What in fact the law demands, in granting to the\ncitizens the right of suffrage, is that the will of the citizens be made\nmanifest, and that the decisions about to be taken, be those of the\nmajority. This principle of the right of the majorities has often been\nquestioned: for, it is said, why might not the majority be mistaken?\nCertainly, but why might not the minority be also mistaken? The majority\nis a rule which puts an end to disputes and forestalls the appeal to\nforce. The minorities certainly may have cause for complaint, for no rule\nis absolutely perfect; but they have the chance of becoming majorities in\ntheir turn. This is seen in all free States, where the majority is\nconstantly being modified with the time. If such is the principle of\nelective governments (whatever be the measure or extension of the\nelectoral right), it can be seen of what importance it is that the true\nmajority show itself; and this can only take place through the greatest\npossible number of voters. If, for example, half of the citizens abstain,\nand that of the half that vote, one-half alone, plus one, constitute the\nmajority, it follows that it is a fourth of the citizens that make the\nlaw; which would seem to be reversing the principle of majorities. This is\ncertainly not absolutely unjust, for it may be said that those who do not\nvote admit implicitly the result obtained; but this negative compliance\nhas not the same value as a positive compliance.\n\nTo abstain from voting may have two causes: either indifference, or\nignorance of the questions propounded, and consequently the impossibility\nof deciding one way or another. In the first case, especially is the\nabstaining culpable. No citizen has the right to be indifferent to public\naffairs. Skepticism in this matter is want of patriotism. In the second\ncase, the question is a more delicate one. How can I vote? it may be said.\nI understand nothing about the question; I have no opinion; I have no\npreference as to candidates. To combat this evil, it is, of course,\nnecessary that education gain a larger development, and that liberty enter\ninto customs and manners. There will be seen then a greater and greater\nnumber of citizens understandingly interested in public affairs. But even\nin the present state of things, a man may still fulfill his duty in\nconsulting enlightened men, in choosing some one in whom he may have\nconfidence; in short, in making every effort to gain information.\n\n2. The vote should be _disinterested_. The question here is not only one\nconcerning the _venality_ of the vote, which is a shameful act,\npunishable, moreover, by the laws; but it embraces disinterestedness in a\nwider sense. One should in voting consider the interests of the country\nalone, and in nowise, or at least, only secondarily, the interests of\nlocalities, unless the question be precisely as to those latter interests,\nwhen voting for municipal officers.\n\n3. The vote should be _free_. The electors or representatives of an\nassembly should obey their conscience alone: they should repel all\npressure, as well that from committees arrogating omnipotence, as from the\npower itself.\n\n4. In fine, the vote should be _enlightened_. Each voter should gather\ninformation touching the matter in hand, the candidates, their morality,\ntheir general fitness for their duty, their opinions. In order to vote\nwith knowledge of the facts, one must have some education. That, of\ncourse, depends on our parents; but what depends on us, is to develop the\neducation already obtained; we must read the papers, but not one only, or\nwe may become the slaves of a watch word and of bigoted minds; we must\nalso gather information from men more enlightened, etc.\n\n=89. Taxes.=--It is a duty to pay the taxes; for, without the contributions\nof each citizen, the State would have no budget, and could not set the\noffices it is commissioned with, to work.\n\nHow could justice be rendered, instruction be given, the territory be\ndefended, the roads kept up, without money? This money, besides, is voted\nby the representatives of the country, elected for that purpose. But if\nthe State is not to tax the citizens without their consent and\nsupervision, they in their turn should not refuse it their money.\nCertainly, this evil is not much to be feared, for in the absence of good\nwill, there is still the constraint which can be brought to bear upon\nrefractory citizens. Yet there are still means of defrauding the law. The\ncommon people believe too readily that to deceive the State is not\ndeceiving; they do not scruple to make false declarations where\ndeclarations are required, to pass prohibited goods over the frontier,\netc.; which are so many ways of refusing to pay the taxes.\n\n=90. Military service=, as are the taxes, is obligatory by law, and\nconsequently does not depend on individual choice. But it is not enough to\ndo our duty because we are obliged to do it; we must also do it\nconscientiously and heartily.\n\n    \"It is not enough to pay out of one's purse,\" says a moralist;[63]\n    \"one must also pay with one's person.\" Certainly, it is not for any\n    one's pleasure that he leaves his parents and friends, his work and\n    habits, to go to do military service in barracks, and, if needs be, to\n    fight on the frontiers. But who will defend the country in case of\n    attack if it be not its young and robust men? And must they not learn\n    the use of arms in order to be efficient on the day when the country\n    shall need them? This is why there are armies. Certainly, it would be\n    a thousand times better if there were no need of this, if all nations\n    were just enough never to make war with each other. But whilst this\n    ideal is being realized, the least any one can do is to hold himself\n    in readiness to defend his liberty, his honor.... Thanks to a good\n    army, one not only can remain quiet at home, but the humblest citizen\n    is respected wherever he goes, wherever his interests take him. In\n    looking carefully at the matter it can be seen that even in respect to\n    simple interests, the time spent in the service of the flag, is\n    nothing in comparison with the advantages derived from it. Is it not\n    because others have been there before us that we have been enabled to\n    grow up peacefully and happy to the age of manhood? Is it not just\n    that we should take their place and in our turn watch over the\n    country? And when we return, others will take our place, and we, in\n    our turn, shall be enabled to raise a family, attend to our business,\n    and lead a quiet and contented life.\n\nLet us add to these judicious remarks that military service is a school of\ndiscipline, order, obedience, courage, patience, and as such, contributes\nto strengthening the mind and body, to developing personality, to forming\ngood citizens.\n\nThe principal infractions of the duty of military service are: 1,\n_mutilations_ by which some render themselves improper for service; 2,\n_simulated infirmities_ by which one tries to escape from the obligation;\n3, _desertion_ in times of war, and what is more criminal still, _passing\nover to the enemy_; 4, _insubordination_ or disobedience to superiors.\n\nThis latter vice is the most important to point out, the others being more\nor less rare; but insubordination is an evil most frequent in our armies,\nand a most dangerous evil. Military operations have become so complicated\nand difficult in these days, that nothing is possible without the\nstrictest obedience on the part of soldiers. In times when individual\nvalor was almost everything, insubordination might have presented fewer\ninconveniences; but in these days, all is done through masses, and if the\nmen do not obey, the armies are necessarily beaten because they cannot\noppose an equal force to the enemy. Suppose the enemy to be 50,000 men\nstrong in a certain place, that you yourself belong to a body of 50,000,\nand that you all together reach the same place at the same time as the\nenemy: you are equal in numbers, one against one, and you have at least as\nmany chances as they; and if, besides, you have other qualities which they\nhave not, you will have more chances. But if in the corps you belong to,\nthere is no discipline, if every one disobeys--if, for example, when the\norder for marching is given, each starts when he pleases, and marches but\nas he pleases, you will arrive too late, and the enemy will have taken the\nbest positions; there is then one chance lost. If, moreover, through the\ndisorder in your ranks, you do not all arrive together, if there are but\n25,000 men in a line, the others remaining behind, these 25,000 will be\noverwhelmed. As for those who do not reach the spot, think you they will\nescape the consequences of the battle? By no means; the disorder will not\nsave them; it will deliver them defenseless into the hands of the pursuing\nenemy. Now, all disorder is followed by similar consequences. On the other\nhand, the obedience of the soldier being sure, the army is as one man who\nlends himself to all the plans, all the combinations; who takes advantage\nof all the happy chances, who runs less dangers because the business\nproceeds more rapidly, and that with less means one obtains more results.\nSuch are the reasons for the punctilious discipline required of soldiers.\nWe are treated as machines, you will say. Yes; if you resist: for then\nconstraint becomes indispensable; but if you understand the necessity of\nthe discipline, if you submit to it on your own accord, then are you no\nlonger machines: you are men. The only way of not being a machine is then\nprecisely to obey freely.\n\nIt has often been asked, in these days, whether the soldier is always\nobliged to obey, even such orders as his conscience disapproves of. These\nare dangerous questions to raise, and they tend to imperil discipline\nwithout much profit to morality. No doubt if a soldier were ordered to\ncommit a crime--as, for example, to go and kill a defenseless man--he\nwould have the right to refuse doing it. At the time of the massacre of\nSt. Bartholomew, an order was sent to all the provinces to follow the\nexample of Paris. One of the governors, the Viscount Orthez, replied that\nhis soldiers did not do executioner's service; and this answer was admired\nby all the world. But these are very rare cases; and it is dangerous for\nsuch uncertain eventualities to inspire mistrust against order and\ndiscipline, which are the certain guaranties of the defense and\nindependence of a country.\n\n=91. Educational obligation.=--The duty to instruct children results from\nthe natural relations between parents and children. The obligation to\nraise children implies, in fact, the obligation to instruct them. There is\nno more education without instruction than instruction without education.\nTo-day educational obligation is inserted in the law, and has its sanction\ntherein. But parents owe it to themselves to obey the law without\nconstraint.\n\n=92. Civil courage.=--We have already spoken above of civil courage as\nopposed to military courage. But here is the place to return to this\nsubject. Let us recall a fine page by J. Barni in his book on _Morality in\nDemocracy_:\n\n    The stoics defined courage admirably: _Virtue combating for equity_.\n    Civil courage might be defined: virtue defending the liberty and\n    rights of citizens against tyranny, whether this tyranny be that of\n    the masses or a despot's. As much courage, and perhaps more, is\n    demanded in the first case as in the second; it is less easy to resist\n    a crowd than a single man, were there nothing more to be feared than\n    _unpopularity_, one of the disadvantages hardest to brave. How much\n    more difficult when it comes to risking a popularity already acquired?\n    Yet must one, if necessary, be able to make the sacrifice. True civil\n    courage shows itself the same in all cases. Thus, Socrates, this type\n    of civil virtue, as he was of all other virtues, refused, at the peril\n    of his life, to obey the iniquitous orders of the tyrant Critias; and\n    he resisted with no less courage the people, who, contrary to justice\n    and law, asked for the death of the generals who conquered at\n    Arginusae. Another name presents itself to the memory, namely, that of\n    Boissy d'Anglas, immortalized for the heroism he showed as president\n    of the National Convention, the 1st Prairial, year II. (20 May, 1795).\n    Assailed by the clamors of the crowd which had invaded the Assembly,\n    threatened by the guns which were pointed at him, he remains\n    impassible; and without even appearing to be aware of the danger he is\n    running, he reminds the crowd of the respect due to national\n    representatives. They cry: \"We do not want thy Assembly; the people is\n    here; thou art the president of the people; sign, says one, the decree\n    shall be good, or I kill thee!\" He quietly replied: \"Life to me is a\n    trifle; you speak of committing a great crime; I am a representative\n    of the people; I am president of the convention;\" and he refused to\n    sign. The head of a representative of the people who had just been\n    massacred by the populace for having attempted to prevent the invasion\n    of the Convention, is presented to him on the end of a pike; he\n    salutes it and remains firm at his post. This is a great example of\n    civil courage.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nPROFESSIONAL DUTIES.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =Professional duties:= founded on the division of social work.\n\n    =The absence of a profession--Leisure.=--Is it a duty to have a\n    profession? Rules for the choice of a profession.\n\n    =Division of social professions.=--Plato's theory; the Saint Simonian\n    theory; Fichte's theory. Resume and synthesis of these theories.\n\n    =Mechanic and industrial professions.=--Employers and\n    employees.--Workmen and farmers.\n\n    =Military duties.=\n\n    =Public functions.=--Elective functions; the magistracy and the bar.\n\n    =Science.=--Teaching.--Medicine.--The arts and letters.\n\n\n=93. Division of social work.=--Independently of the general duties to\nwhich man is held, as man or member of a particular group (family,\ncountry), there are still others relating to the situation he holds in\nsociety, to the part he plays therein, to his particular line of work.\nSociety is, in fact, a sort of great enterprise where all pursue a common\nend, namely, the greatest happiness or the greatest morality of the human\nspecies; but as this end is very complex, it is necessary that the parts\nto be played toward reaching it be divided; and, as in industrial\npursuits, unity of purpose, rapidity of execution, perfection of work,\ncannot be obtained except by _division of labor_, so is there also in\nsociety a sort of _social division of labor_, which allots to each his\nshare of the common work. The special work each is appointed to\naccomplish in society is what is called a profession, and the peculiar\nduties of each profession are the _professional duties_.\n\n=94. The absence of a profession--Leisure.=--The first question to be\nconsidered is, whether a man should have a profession, or if, having\nreceived from his family a sufficient fortune to live without doing\nanything, he has a right to dispense with all profession and give himself\nup to what is called _leisure_. Some schools have condemned _leisure_\nabsolutely, have denounced what they call _idlers_ as the enemies of\nsociety. This is a rather delicate question, and concerning which one must\nguard against arriving at a too absolute conclusion.\n\n    And, in the first place, there cannot be question here of approving or\n    permitting that sort of foolish and shameful leisure to which some\n    young prodigals, without sense of dignity and morality, are given, who\n    dissipate in disorder hereditary fortunes, or the wealth obtained by\n    the indefatigable labor of their fathers. It is sometimes said that\n    this does more good than harm, because fortunes pass thus from hand to\n    hand, and each profits by it in his turn. But who does not know that\n    to make a good use of a fortune is more profitable to society than\n    dissipation? However that may be, nothing is more unworthy of youth\n    than this nameless idleness, where all the strength of the body and\n    soul, the energy of character, the life of the intelligence, all the\n    gifts of nature are squandered. There have been sometimes seen\n    superior souls who rose from such disorders victorious over\n    themselves, and stronger for the combat of life. But how rare such\n    examples! How often does it not, on the contrary, happen that the\n    idleness of his youth determines the whole course of the man's life?\n\n    Sometimes, it is true, one may choose a life of leisure designedly,\n    not with an idea of dissipation, but, on the contrary, with that of\n    being free to do great things. Certain independent minds believe that\n    a profession deprives a person of his liberty, narrows him, fastens\n    him down to mean and monotonous occupations, subjects him to\n    conventional and narrow modes of thinking--in short, that a positive\n    kind of work weakens and lowers the mind. There is some truth in these\n    remarks. Everybody has observed how men of different professions\n    differ in their mode of thinking. What more different than a\n    physician, a man of letters, a soldier, a merchant? All these men\n    thought about the same in their youth; they see each other twenty\n    years later; each has undergone a peculiar bent; each has his\n    particular physiognomy, costume, etc. Not only has the profession\n    absorbed the man, but it has also deadened his individuality. One may\n    conceive, then, how some ambitious minds may expect to escape the yoke\n    and preserve their liberty in renouncing all professions. To be\n    subject to no fixed and prescribed occupation, to depend upon no\n    master, to nobly cultivate the mind in every direction, to make vast\n    experiments, to be a stranger to nothing, bound to nothing, is not\n    that, seemingly, the height of human happiness? Some men of genius\n    have followed this system, and found no bad results from it. Descartes\n    relates to us in his _Discours sur la Methode_ (Part I.), that, during\n    nine years of his life, he did nothing but \"roll about the world,\n    hither and thither, trying to be a spectator, rather than an actor, in\n    the comedies played therein.\" He tells us further, that he employed\n    his \"youth in traveling, in visiting courts and armies, in associating\n    with people of various humors and conditions, in gathering divers\n    experiences, in testing himself in the encounters chance favored him\n    with, etc.\" That this may be an admirable school, a marvelously\n    instructive arena for well-endowed minds, no one will doubt; but what\n    is possible and useful to a Descartes or a Pascal, will it suit the\n    majority of men? Is it not to be feared that this wandering in every\n    direction, this habit of having nowhere a foot-hold, may make the mind\n    superficial and weaken its energy?\n\n    He who renounces being an actor, to be only a spectator, as did\n    Descartes, takes too easy a part; he frees himself from all\n    responsibility: this may sharpen the mind, but there will always\n    remain some radical deficiency. Force of character, however, and\n    personal superiority may set at naught all these conclusions--sound as\n    they in general are in theory.[64]\n\nIt may, therefore, be doubtful whether a life of leisure, with some\nexceptions, be good for him who gives himself up to it; but what is not\nlegitimate, is the kind of jealousy and envy which those who work often\nentertain against those who have nothing to do. There is a legitimate\nleisure and nobly employed. For example, a legitimate leisure is that\nwhich, obtained through hereditary fortune, is engaged in gratuitously\nserving the country, in study, in the management of property, the\ncultivation of land, in travels devoted to observation and the\namelioration of human things, in a noble intercourse with society. It is a\ngrievous error to wish to blot out of societies all existence that has not\ngain for its end, and is not connected with daily wants. Property and\nriches are true social functions, and among the most difficult of\nfunctions. Those who know how to use them with profit, fill one of the\nmost useful parts in society, and cannot be said to be without a\nprofession.\n\n=95. Of the choice of a profession.=--If it is necessary in society to have\na profession, it is important that it be well chosen. He who is not in his\nright place, is wanting in some essential quality to fill the one he\noccupies:\n\n    \"If the abbe de Carignan had yielded to the wishes of Madame de\n    Soissons, his mother, what glory would not the house of Savoy have\n    been deprived of! The empire would have been deprived of one of its\n    greatest captains, one of the bulwarks of Christianity. Prince Eugene\n    was a very great man in the profession they wished to interdict him;\n    what would he have been in the profession they wished him to embrace?\n    M. de Retz insisted absolutely that his youngest son should be an\n    ecclesiastic, despite the repugnance he manifested for this\n    profession, despite the scandalous conduct he indulged in to escape\n    from it. This duke [M. de Retz] gives to the church a sacrilegious\n    priest, to Paris a sanguinary archbishop, to the kingdom a great\n    rebel, and deprives his house of the last prop that could have\n    sustained it.\"[65]\n\nOne should, therefore, study his vocation, not decide too quickly, get\ninformation on the nature and duties of different professions; then\nconsult his taste, but without allowing himself to be carried away by\nillusory, proud, inconsistent fancies; consult wise and enlightened\npersons; finally, if necessary, make certain experiments, taking care,\nhowever, to stop in time.\n\n=96. Division of social professions.=--It would be impossible to make a\nsurvey of all the professions society is composed of: it were an infinite\nlabor. We must, therefore, bring the professions down to a certain number\nof types or classes, which allow the reducing of the rules of\n_professional morality_ to a small number. Several philosophers have\nbusied themselves in dividing and classifying social occupations. We shall\nrecall only the principal ones of these divisions.\n\nPlato has reduced the different social functions to four classes, namely:\n1, _magistrates_; 2, _warriors_; 3, _farmers_; 4, _artisans_. The two\nfirst classes are the governing classes; the two others are the classes\ngoverned. The two first apply themselves to moral things: education,\nscience, the defense of the country; the others to material life. This\nclassification of Plato is somewhat too general for our modern societies,\nwhich comprise more varied and numerous elements: these divisions,\nnevertheless, are important, and should be taken account of in morals.\n\nSince Plato, there is scarcely any but the socialist Saint-Simon who\nattempted to classify the social careers. He reduces them to three groups:\n_industrials_, _artists_, and _scientists_ (savants). The meaning of this\nclassification is this: the object of human labor, according to\nSaint-Simon, is the cultivation of the globe--that is to say, the greatest\npossible production; but this is the object of productive labor; it is\nwhat is called _industry_. Now, the cultivation of nature requires a\nknowledge of nature's laws, namely, _science_. Science and invention are,\nthen, the two great branches of social activity. According to Saint-Simon,\nwork--that is to say, industry--must take the place of war; science, that\nof the laws. Hence no warriors, no magistrates; or, rather, the scientists\n(savants) should be the true magistrates. Science and industry, however,\nhaving only relation to material nature, Saint-Simon thought there was a\npart to be given to the moral order, to the _beautiful_ or the _good_;\nhence a third class, which he now calls _artists_, now _moralists_ and\n_philosophers_, and to whom a sort of religious role is assigned. It will\nbe seen that this theory is absolutely artificial and utopian, that it has\nrelation to an imaginary system, and not to the order of things as it is:\nit is an ingenious conception, but quite impracticable.\n\nOne of the greatest of modern moralists, the German philosopher Fichte,\nassigned, in his _Practical Morality_, a part to the doctrine of\n_professional_ duties; and he began by giving a theory of the professions\nmore complete and satisfactory than any of the preceding ones.\n\nFichte makes of the special professions two great divisions: 1, those\nwhich have for their object the keeping up of material life; 2, those\nwhich have for their object the keeping up of intellectual and moral life.\nOn the one side, _mechanical labor_; on the other, _intellectual_ and\n_moral labor_.\n\nThe object of mechanical labor is _production_, _manufacture_, and\n_exchange_ of produce; hence three functions: those of =producers=,\n=manufacturers=, and =merchants=.\n\nThe moral and spiritual labor has also three objects: 1, the\nadministration of justice in the State; 2, the theoretic culture of\nintelligence; 3, the moral culture of the will. Hence three classes: 1,\n=public functions=; 2, =science and instruction=; 3, =the Church and the\nclergy=. Lastly, there is in human nature a faculty which serves as a link\nbetween the theoretical and the practical faculties: it is the _esthetic\nsense_; the sense of the beautiful; hence a last class, that of =artists=.\n\nThis theory is more scientific than that of the Saint-Simonians, but it is\nstill somewhat defective; it is not clear, for example, in a moral point\nof view, that there is a great difference of duties between the producers,\nmanufacturers, and merchants: they are economical rather than moral\ndistinctions. Plato's division is better, when he puts the farmers in\nopposition to the artisans. It is certain that there are, especially in\nthese days, interesting moral questions, which differ according as the\nworkmen live in the city or in the country. We therefore prefer on this\npoint Plato's division; and we will treat, on the one side, _industry_ and\n_commerce_, and on the other _agriculture_; and in each of these divisions\nwe will distinguish those who direct or remunerate the work, namely,\ncontractors, masters, proprietors, capitalists in some degree, and those\nwho work with their hands and receive wages.\n\nIn characterizing the second class of careers, those which have moral\ninterests for their object, we will again borrow of Plato one of the names\nof his division, namely, _the defense of the State_. As to the\nadministration of justice in the State, it is divided, as we have already\nsaid, into three powers: the _executive_, _legislative_, and _judicial_\npowers. Hence three orders of functions: _administration_, _deputation_,\nand the _magistracy_, with which latter is connected the _bar_.\n\nAs to science, it is either _speculative_ or _practical_.\n\nIn the first case, it only concerns the individual; we have spoken of it\nunder individual duties (ch. iv.). In the second case, it has for its\nobject _application_, and bears either on _things_ or on _men_.\n\nApplied to things, science is associated with the industry we have already\nspoken of. Applied to men, it is _medicine_, in respect to bodies;\n_morality_ or _religion_, in respect to hearts and souls.\n\nLastly, along with the sciences which seek the true, there are the letters\nand the arts which treat of and produce the beautiful. Hence a last class,\nnamely, _poets_, _writers_, _artists_.\n\nSuch is about the outline of what a system of social professions might be.\nA treatise of professional morality which would be in harmony with this\noutline, would be all one science, the elements of which scarcely exist,\nbeing dispersed in a multitude of works, or rather in the practice and\ninterior life of each profession. We will content ourselves with a few\ngeneral indications.\n\n=97. I. Mechanical and industrial professions.=--1. _Employers and\nemployees._--The professions which have for their object the material\ncultivation of the globe, and particularly _industry_ and _commerce_, are\ndivided into two great classes: 1, on one side, those who, having capital,\n_undertake_ and direct the works; 2, those who execute them with their\narms and receive _wages_. The first are the _employers_; the second the\n_employees_. What are the respective duties of these two classes?\n\n=98. Duties of employers.=--The duties of all those who, by virtue of their\ncapital legitimately acquired, or by virtue of their intelligence,\ncommand, direct and pay for the work done by men, are the following:\n\n1. They should raise the wages of the workmen as high as the state of the\nmarket permits; and they should not wait to be compelled to it by strikes\nor threats of strikes. Conversely, they should not, from weakness or want\nof foresight, yield to every threat of the kind; for in raising the wages\nunreasonably high, one may disable himself from entering into foreign\ncompetition, or may cause the ruin of the humbler manufacturers who have\nnot sufficient capital.\n\n2. Capitalists, employers and masters should obey strictly the laws\nestablished for the protection of childhood. They should employ the work\nof minors within proper limits, and according to the conditions fixed by\nthe law.\n\n3. Their task is not done when they have secured to the workmen and their\nchildren the share of work and wages which is their due, even when they\nare content to claim nothing beyond justice. They have yet to fulfill\ntoward their subordinates the duties of protection and benevolence; they\nmust assist them, relieve them, be it in accidents happening to them in\nthe work they are engaged in, or in illness. They must spare them\nsuspensions of work as much as possible; in short, they must, through all\nsorts of establishments--schools, mutual-help societies, workmen-cities\n(_cites ouvrieres_), etc.--encourage education, economy, property, yet\nwithout forcing upon them anything that would diminish their own\nresponsibility or impair their personal dignity.\n\n=99. Duties of workingmen.=--The duties of workingmen should correspond to\nthose of the employers.\n\n1. The workingmen owe it to themselves not to cherish in their hearts\nfeelings of hatred, envy, covetousness, and revolt against the employers.\nDivision of work requires that in industrial matters some should direct\nand others be directed. Material exploitation requires capital; and those\nwho bring this capital, the fruit of former work, are as necessary to the\nworkingmen to utilize their work as these are to the first in utilizing\ntheir capital.\n\n2. The workingmen owe their work to the establishment which pays them; it\nis as much their interest as their duty. The result of _laziness_ and\n_intemperance_ is _misery_. We cannot enough deplore the use of what is\ncalled the _Mondays_--a day of rest over and beyond the legitimate and\nnecessary Sunday. It is certain that one day of rest in a week is\nabsolutely a necessity. No man can nor ought (except in circumstances\nunavoidable) work without interruption the whole year through. But the\nweek's day of rest once secure, all that is over and above that, is taken\nfrom what belongs to the family and the provisions against old age.\n\n3. Supposing that, in consequence of the progress of industry, the number\nof hours of rest could be increased--that, for example, the hours of the\nday's work could be reduced--these hours of rest should then be devoted to\nthe family, to the cultivation of the mind, and not to the fatal pleasures\nof intoxication.\n\nThe workingmen have certainly a right to ask, as far as they are worthy of\nit, equality of consideration and influence in society; and all our modern\nlaws are so constituted as to insure them this equality. It rests with\nthem, therefore, to render themselves worthy of this new equality by their\nmorals and their education. To have their children educated; to educate\nthemselves; to occupy their leisure with family interests, in reading, in\ninnocent and elevating recreations (music, the theatre, gardening, if\npossible), it is by all such pursuits that the workingmen will reduce or\nentirely remove the inequality of manners and education which may still\nexist between them and their superiors.\n\n4. Workingmen cannot be blamed for seeking to defend their interests and\nincrease their comforts; in so doing they only do what all men should do.\nThey have also the right, in order to get satisfaction, to attach to their\nwork such conditions as they may reasonably desire: it is the _law of\ndemand_ and _supply_, common to all industries. In short, as an individual\nrefusal to work is a means absolutely inefficacious to bring about an\nincrease of wages, it must be admitted that the workingmen have a right to\nact in concert and collectively to refuse to work, and, collectively, to\nmake their conditions; hence the right of strikes recognized to-day by the\nlaw. But this right, granted to the principle of the liberty of work, must\nnot be turned against this principle. The workingmen who freely refuse to\nwork should not stand in the way of those who, finding their demands\nill-founded, persist in continuing to work under the existing conditions.\nAll violence, all threats to force into the strike him who is opposed\nthereto, is an injustice and a tyranny. This violence is condemned by law;\nbut as it is easily disguised, it cannot always be reached; it is,\ntherefore, through the morals one must act upon it--through persuasion and\neducation. The workmen must gradually adopt the morals of liberty, must\nrespect each other. For the same reason they should respect women's work;\nshould not interdict to their wives and daughters the right of improving\ntheir condition by work. Unquestionably it is much to be desired that\nwoman should become more and more centred in domestic duties, the care of\nher household and family. This is her principal part in the social work.\nBut as long as the imperfect condition of the laboring classes does not\npermit this state of things, it may be said that the workmen work against\nthemselves in trying to close the field of industry to women.\n\nThe tendency toward the equality of wages, as the ideal of the\nremuneration of work, is also to be condemned. Nothing is more contrary to\nthe spirit of the times, which demands that every one be treated according\nto his work. Capacity, painstaking, personal efforts, are elements that\ndemand to be proportionately remunerated. Let us add, that it is the duty\nof head masters, in the case of a good will, succumbing to physical\ninability, to conciliate benevolence and equity with justice; this,\nhowever, is only an exceptional case. But, as a principle, each one should\nbe rewarded only for what he has done. Otherwise there would be an\ninducement to indifference and idleness.\n\n=100. Workmen and farmers.=--Having considered workmen in their relations\nwith their masters, let us consider them now on a line with farmers; for,\naccording as one lives in the city or in the country, there is a great\ndifference in manners, and consequently in duties. The workmen who live in\nthe city are for that very reason more apt to acquire new ideas and\ngeneral information; they have many more means of educating themselves;\nthe very pleasures of the city afford them opportunities to cultivate\ntheir mind. Besides, living nearer to each other, they are more disposed\nto consider their common interests and turn them to account. Hence\nadvantages and disadvantages. The advantages are, the superiority of\nintellectual culture, the greater aptitude in conceiving general ideas, a\nstronger interest in public affairs; in all these respects, city-life\npresents advantages over country-life. But hence also arise great dangers.\nThe workingmen, quite ready to admit general ideas, but without sufficient\ninformation and political experience to control them, abandon themselves\nreadily to utopian preachings and instigations to revolt. Further, very\nmuch preoccupied with their common interests, they are too much disposed\nto think only of their own class, and to form, as it were, a class apart\nin society and in the nation. Hence for the workmen a double duty: 1, to\nobtain enough information not to blindly follow all demagogues; 2, to\nlearn to consider their interests as connected with all those of the other\nclasses and professions.\n\nFarmers are indebted to the country-life for certain advantages, which\ncarry with them, at the same time, certain disadvantages. The farmer is\ngenerally more attached to social stability than the more or less shifting\ninhabitants of the towns; he thinks much of property; he does not like to\nchange in his manners and ideas. He is thereby a powerful support to\nconservatism and the spirit of tradition, without which society could not\nlive and last. He has, moreover, had till now the great merit of not\nsingling himself out, of not separating his interests from those of the\ncountry in general. Thus, on these two points--opposition to utopias,\npreservation of social unity--the countryman serves as a counterpoise to\nall the opposite tendencies in the workmen. But these very qualities are,\nperhaps, the result of certain defects: namely, the absence of information\nand enlightenment. The countryman sees not very much beyond his\nchurch-steeple; material life occupies and absorbs him wholly; individual\nand personal interests are absolutely predominant in him. He is but little\ndisposed to give his children any education; and he is disposed to look\nupon them as so many instruments of work less expensive than others. The\nidea of a general country, general interests surpassing private interests,\nis more or less wanting in him. What it is necessary to persuade the\ncountryman of, is the usefulness of education. He should be inspired with\na taste for liberty, which is a security to him and his family, as well as\nto all the other classes of society. The workman in becoming better\ninformed, the farmer more informed, they will gradually blend with the\nmiddle classes, and there will then be no longer those oppositions of\nclasses and interests so dangerous at the present day. (See Appendix.)\n\n=101. II. Military duties.=--We have already considered military duties, as\nthe duty of citizens toward the State; we have now to consider here\nmilitary duties in themselves, as special duties, peculiar to a certain\nclass of citizens, to a certain social profession.\n\n1. It is useless to say that the peculiar virtue and special duty of the\nmilitary class is _courage_. We have but to refer the reader to what will\nbe said further on (ch. xiv.) touching the virtue of courage, in regard to\nthe duties of man toward himself.\n\n2. _Patriotism_ is a duty of all classes and all professions; but it is\nparticularly one with those who are commissioned to defend the country: it\nis, therefore, the military virtue _par excellence_.\n\n3. _Fidelity to the flag._--This duty is implied in the two preceding\nones. The duty of courage, in fact, implies that one should not flee\nbefore the enemy: it is the crime of _desertion_; that one should not\npass over to the enemy: it is the crime of _defection_ or _treason_. This\nlatter crime has become very rare, and has even wholly disappeared in\nmodern France. Formerly there was seen a Conde, the great Conde fighting\nagainst the French at the head of Spanish troops; and so great a fault\nscarcely injured his reputation; in our days, a simple suspicion, and that\nan unjust one, blackened the whole life of a Marshal of France.[66]\n\n4. _Obedience and discipline._ (See above, _Duties toward the State_,\npreceding chapter.)\n\n=102. III. Public functions--Administration--Deputation--Magistracy--The\nBar.=--The public functions are the divers acts which compose the\ngovernment of a State. We even include the _elective_ functions\n(deputation, general councils, town councils, etc.), because, whilst they\nhave their origin in election, they are, nevertheless, functions, the\npurpose of which is the _common weal_, _public interests_. For the same\nreason, though the bar is a free profession, it is so connected with\nmagistracy, it is so necessary a dependency of the judicial power, that it\nis thereby itself a sort of public power.\n\n=103. Functionaries.=--We call _functionaries_, more particularly, those\nwho take part in the administration of the country and the execution of\nits laws. This admitted, the principal duties of functionaries are:\n\n1. The _Knowledge of the laws_ they are commissioned to execute. Power is\nonly legitimate as far as it is guaranteed by _competency_. Ignorance in\npublic functions has for its results _injustice_, since arbitrariness\ntakes then the place of the law; administrative _disorder_, since the law\nhas precisely for its object to establish rules and maintain traditions;\n_negligence_, since ignorant of the principles by which affairs ought to\nbe settled, conclusions are kept off as much as possible. But one must not\ndefer obtaining administrative information till called to take a share in\nthe administration. A general information should be acquired beforehand;\nfor, once engaged in administrative affairs, there is then no longer time\nto acquire it.\n\n_To go to work_ is, therefore, the first duty of those who would be\nprepared for public functions; and this duty of work continues with the\nfunctions; for after general information has been obtained, comes the\nspecial and technical information, where there is always something new to\nlearn.\n\n2. The second duty of functionaries of any degree, is _exactitude_ and\n_assiduity_. The most brilliant qualities, and the largest and amplest\nmind for public affairs, will render but inefficient service--at any rate,\na service very inferior to what could be expected of them, if these\nqualities are counterbalanced and paralyzed by negligence, laziness,\ndisorder, inexactness. One must not forget that all negligence in public\naffairs is a denial of justice to some one. An administrative decision,\nwhatever it be, has always for its result to satisfy the just, or to deny\nthe unjust, claims of some one. To retard a case through negligence, may\ntherefore deprive some one of what he has a right to. There are, of\ncourse, necessary delays which arise from the complication of affairs, and\norder itself requires that everything come in time; but delays occasioned\nby our own fault are a wrong toward others.\n\n3. _Integrity_ and _discretion_ are also among the most important duties\nof functionaries. The first bears especially upon what concerns finances;\nbut there are everywhere more or less opportunities to fail in probity.\nFor example, there is nothing more shameful than to sell one's influence;\nthis is what is called _extortion_. An administrator given to extortion is\nthe shame and ruin of the State. As to discretion, it is again a duty\nwhich depends on the nature of things. It is especially obligatory when\npersons are in question, and still more so in certain careers--as, for\nexample, in _diplomacy_.\n\n4. _Justice._--The strict duty of every administrator or functionary, is\nto have no other rule than the _law_; to avoid _arbitrariness_ and\n_favor_, to have no regard to persons. This duty, it must be said, whilst\nit is the most necessary, is also the most difficult to exercise, and one\nwhich requires most courage and will. Public opinion, unfortunately,\nencourages in this respect, the weaknesses of officials; it is convinced,\nand spreads everywhere this conviction, that all is due to _favoritism_,\nthat it is not the most deserving that succeed, but the best recommended.\nEverybody complains of it, and everybody helps toward it. There is\nunquestionably much exaggeration in these complaints. Favor is not\neverything in this world. It is too much the interest of administrators\nthat they should have industrious and intelligent assistants, and that\nthey should employ every means to choose them well; and in public affairs,\nthe interests of the common weal always predominate in the end. It is,\nnevertheless, an evil that so unfavorable a prejudice should exist; and it\nis absolutely a duty with functionaries to uproot it, in showing it to be\nfalse.\n\n=104. Elective functions--Deputation--Elective councils.=--There is a whole\nclass of functionaries, if it be permitted to say so, who owe their origin\nto election, and who are the mandataries of the people, either in\nmunicipal councils, or in general councils, or in the great elective\nbodies of the State, the _Senate_ and _House of Representatives_. (See\n_Civil instruction_.) The principle of the sovereignty of the people\nrequires that for all its interests, communal, departmental or national,\nthe country have a deliberative voice by means of its representatives. The\nduties of these mandataries are generally the same in any degree of rank.\n\n1. _Fidelity to the mandate._--The representative is the interpreter of\ncertain opinions, of certain tendencies, and although the majority which\nhave elected him comprise very diverse elements, there exists an average\nof opinions, and it is this average which the deputy represents, or should\nrepresent. He would, therefore, fail in his duty if, once elected, he\npassed over to his opponents, or, if wishing to do so, he did not tender\nhis resignation. However, this fidelity to the mandate should not be\ncarried so far as to accept what is called the _imperative mandate_,\nwhich is the negation of all liberty in the representative, and makes of\nhim a simple voting machine. The representative is a representative\nprecisely because he is empowered, on his own responsibility, to find the\nbest means to carry out the wishes of his constituents.\n\n2. _Independence._--The deputy, senator, municipal, or departmental\nofficer should be independent both in regard to the authorities and in\nregard to the electors. From the authorities he should receive no favors;\nhe should not sell his vote in any interest whatsoever; from the electors\nhe has to receive advice only, but no orders. Outside their office as\nelectors, the electors are nothing but simple individuals. As such they\nmay try to influence representatives, but they have otherwise no other\ntitle before the representatives of the electoral corps. The\nrepresentative should, above all, avoid making himself the servant of the\nelectors, for the satisfaction of their private interests and passions. It\nis often thought that independence only consists in resisting courts and\nprinces; there is no less independence, and sometimes even is there more\nmerit and courage required to resist the tyranny of the masses, and\nespecially that of popular leaders. The deputy should, we have said, be\nfaithful to his trust--that is to say, to the general line of politics\nadopted by the political party to which he belongs; but within these\ngeneral limits it is for him to assume the responsibility, for it is for\nthis very reason that he is elected a representative. Let us, moreover,\nadd that fidelity to opinions should not degenerate into party spirit, and\nthat there is an interest which should supersede all others, namely, the\ninterest of the country.\n\n3. The spirit of _conciliation_ and the spirit of _discipline_.--Political\nliberty, more than any other political principle, requires the spirit of\nconcession. If each, indeed, fortifies himself in his own opinions,\nwithout ever making a concession, all having the right to do the same, it\nis evident that no common conclusion can be arrived at. The consequence of\nthe _liberum veto_,[67] pushed to excess, is paralysis of power or\nanarchy. Nothing is done; and in politics, when nothing is done, all\nbecomes disorganized, dissolved. It is, therefore, necessary that whilst\npreserving their independence, the representatives sent forth by the\nelectors should endeavor to render government possible; they should not\noverstep the limits of their trust by confounding legislative power with\nexecutive power; they should try to harmonize with the other bodies of the\nState--in short, they ought each to sacrifice the necessary amount of\ntheir individual opinion to bring about a common opinion. In a free\ngovernment it is no more a duty to belong to the _majority_ than to the\n_opposition_, since the opposition may, in its turn, become majority; but\nwhether belonging to the one or to the other, the representative should\nsubordinate his particular views to the common interest; otherwise the\nparties scatter, which, in the long run, can only be profitable to\ndespotism.\n\n=105. Judicial power.--The magistracy and the bar.=--The judicial power is\nexercised by magistrates called _judges_: it is they who decide about\nquarrels between individuals: this is what is called _civil justice_; they\nalso decide about the punishments inflicted on criminals who have made\nattempts upon a life or property; and this is _penal justice_. The duties\nof the magistrate are easily deduced from these obligations.\n\n1. _Impartiality and neutrality._--The judge must necessarily remain\n_neutral_ among all parties; he should have no regard to persons, should\nrender equal justice to the rich and to the poor, to the high and to the\nlow. _Equality before the law_, which is one of the principles of our\nmodern institutions, should not only be a principle in the abstract; it\nshould also be a practical principle, and be brought before the eyes of\nthe judges as one among the first of their obligations.\n\n2. _Integrity and disinterestedness._--No less strict a duty for the\njudges, and which it is scarcely necessary to point out, is integrity. The\nmagistrate should be free from all suspicion of venality. Under the old\n_regime_, as may be seen in Racine's comedy of _The Pleaders_, the judges\nwere not always free from such suspicion. Of course, it is but a comedy;\nbut such a comedy could no longer be written nowadays; it would no longer\nbe understood; our morals are too much improved for that. The obligation\nshould, nevertheless, be pointed out.\n\n3. Impartiality and integrity concern above all civil justice. The duty\nwhich more especially concerns criminal justice, is _equity_; namely, a\nmoderate justice, intermediary between a dangerous lenity and an excessive\nseverity. In truth, in most cases, at least in the graver cases, the judge\nhas scarcely anything more to do than to apply the law. It is for the\njury, a sort of free and irresponsible magistracy, to decide upon the\nculpability or innocence of the prisoners. It is for the jury to find a\njust medium between harshness and lenity. But the juryman who, above all,\njudges as a man, and often recoils from responsibility, should fear the\nexcess of lenity: the judge, on the contrary, accustomed to repression,\nand above all preoccupied with the interests of society, should rather\ndefend himself against excess of rigor and severity.\n\n4. _Knowledge._--What is for most men but a luxury, becomes in such or\nsuch a profession a strict duty. _The knowledge of the laws_, for example,\nis, for the magistrate, as the knowledge of the human body for the\nphysician, a strict obligation. He who wishes to enter the magistracy,\nshould therefore carry the study of the law as far as his youth permits\nit; but he should not stop his studies the moment he has entered upon his\ncareer. He has always something to learn; he should keep himself informed\nof the progress jurisprudence is making. It is useless to say that,\nindependently of this general work, the special and thorough study of each\ncase brought before him is for the judge a duty still more strict.\n\nAlongside of the magistracy, and co-operating with it, is placed the\n_bar_, which is charged with the defense of private interests from a civil\nor criminal point of view.\n\nFrom a civil point of view, the trial is between two citizens, each\nclaiming his right in the case; they are what is called _pleaders_, and\nthe trial itself is called a _law-suit_. The pleaders, not knowing the\nlaws, need an intermediary to explain and defend their cause, bring it\nclearly to the comprehension of the magistrates and enforce its reasons.\nThis is the part of the lawyers.\n\nFrom a criminal point of view, the trial is not between two individuals;\nbut between society and the criminal. Society, to defend itself, employs\nwhat is called a _public prosecutor_; the criminal needs a _counsel_. The\npart of a counsel belongs again to the lawyers.\n\nThe duties of lawyers are varied according as the cases are civil or\ncriminal cases.\n\nIn civil law-suits, the absolute duty is the following: not to take up\n_bad cases_. Only it is necessary to understand well this principle. It is\ngenerally believed that a bad case is the losing one, and a good case the\nwinning one. Thus would there in every law-suit be a lawyer who failed in\nhis duty: the one, namely, who lost the case. This is a false idea, which\nvery unjustly throws in many minds discredit upon the profession of the\nlaw.\n\nCertainly there are cases where the law is so clear, jurisprudence so\nestablished, the morality so evident and imperious, that a suit having the\nthree against itself, may be called a bad case; and the lawyer who can\nallow his client to believe the suit defensible, and who employs his skill\nand eloquence in defending it, fails in his professional duty. But this is\nnot generally the case. In most cases, it is very difficult to tell\nbeforehand who is right, who wrong, and precisely because it is difficult,\nare there judges whose proper function it is to decide. Now, in order that\nthe judge may decide, he must be acquainted with all the details of the\ncase; all possible reasons from both sides must be laid before him.\nEverybody knows that one can never of one's own account find in favor of a\nsolution or conclusion, all the reasons which the interested party can;\nnow, it is just that these reasons be set forth: this is the business of\nthe lawyers. One must not forget that in every law-suit there is a pro and\na con. It is for this very reason there is a suit. The lawyers are\nspecially here to plead for the pro and con, each from his own standpoint.\nOne could very well understand, for example, that the court should have at\nits disposal functionaries commissioned to prepare the cases and plead for\nthe contending parties: one would take up Peter's cause, the other,\nPaul's; this is just the part of the lawyers, with this difference, that\nthe choice of the lawyer is left to the client, because it is but just\nthat a deputy be chosen by him he is supposed to represent.\n\nIn criminal cases there are equally very delicate questions. How can a\nlawyer defend as innocent one who is guilty? Were it not an actual lie?\nAnd yet society does not allow that any accused, whoever he be, be left\nwithout counsel; and when none present themselves, it provides one,\ncharging him to save the life of the accused if he can. It is the interest\nof society that no innocent person be condemned, and that even the guilty\nshould not be punished beyond what he deserves; in short, it takes care\nthat all the reasons that can be brought forth to attenuate the gravity of\nan offense be well weighed, and even set forth in a manner to arouse pity\nand sympathy. Such is the business of the lawyers.\n\nIt is evident that these considerations, which show the lawyer's\nprofession to be one so legitimate and exalted, should not be improperly\nunderstood. These general rules must be interpreted with delicacy of\nfeeling and conscience.\n\n=106. IV. Science--Teaching--Medicine--The letters and arts.=--Beside the\n_social powers_ which _make_, _execute_ and _apply_ the laws, there is\n_science_, which instructs men, enlightens them, directs their work, and\nwhich even, setting utility aside, is yet in itself an object of\ndisinterested research. Side by side with the sciences are the letters\nand arts, which pursue and express the _beautiful_, as science pursues the\n_true_. Finally, to science and art are added _morality_ and _religion_,\nwhose object is the _good_. The moralists, it is true, do not constitute a\nparticular profession in society, or at least their part is blended with\nteaching in general; religion has its interpreters, who find in their\ndogmas and traditions the rules of their duties. It is not the business of\nlay morality to teach these. Let us, therefore, content ourselves with a\nfew principles concerning the sciences and letters.\n\n=107. Science--Duties of Scientists.=--Science may be cultivated in two\ndifferent ways and from two different standpoints: 1, for itself; 2, for\nits social advantages--for the services it renders to men. There is but a\nsmall number of men who have a natural taste for pure science, and the\nleisure to give themselves up to the love of it; but those who choose such\na life contract thereby certain duties.\n\nThe first of all is the _love of truth_. The only object for the scientist\nto pursue is truth. He must, therefore, lay aside all interests and\npassions antagonistic to truth; and, above all, personal interest which\ninclines one to prefer one theme to another, because of the advantages it\nmay bring; this is, however, so gross a motive, that it would not be\nsupposed to exist with a true scholar; yet are there other causes of error\nno less dangerous--for example, the interest of a cause--of a conviction\nwhich is dear to us; the interest of our self-love, which makes us persist\nin error known to be such; the spirit of system, by which one shows his\npeculiar forte, etc. All these passions should give way before the pure\nlove of truth.\n\n=108. The communication of science--Teaching.=--The principal duty of those\nwho are possessed of science is to communicate it to other men. Certainly,\nall men are not called to be scholars; but all should in some degree have\ntheir intelligence cultivated by _instruction_. Hence the duty of teaching\nimposed upon scholars; but this duty brings with it many others.\n\n1. The masters who teach others should themselves first be educated.\nHence the duty of intellectual work, not merely to acquire knowledge,\nwithout which one cannot be a teacher, but to preserve and increase it.\nThe teacher should, therefore, set an example to his pupil of assiduous\nand continuous intellectual work.\n\n2. The teacher should love his pupils--children, if he is called upon to\nteach children; young men, if he is to address young men. The teacher\nshould not only think of the science he teaches, but of the fruits his\npupils are to reap from it; one can only be interested in what he loves. A\nteacher indifferent toward the young, will never make the necessary effort\nto lead and educate them.\n\n3. The teacher, in teaching, should unite in a just measure _discipline_\nand _liberty_. Instruction naturally presupposes one that knows and one\nthat does not know; and it is necessary that the one should direct the\nother; hence the necessity of discipline. But the purpose of instruction\nis to teach to do without the master--to be one's own master in thought\nand conduct; hence the necessity of liberty. This liberty should grow\nalong with the instruction, and, of course, proportionately to age; but,\nat any age, one should take advantage of the faculties of a child, and\nmake it as much as possible find out by itself what is within its reach.\n\n4. The teacher should not separate _instruction_ from _education_. He\nshould not only communicate knowledge--he should above all form men,\ncharacters, wills. Instruction is, besides, already in itself an\neducation. Can one instruct without accustoming young minds to work, to\nobedience, to correct habits of thought; without putting into their hands\ngood books; without giving them good examples? It is most true that one\ndoes not form men with pure and abstract science alone,--it is necessary\nto add the letters, history, morality, religion. The teacher, besides,\nshould study the character of his pupils, should, through work and moral\nand physical exercises, put down presumption, correct unmanliness, combat\nselfishness, anticipate or restrain the passions.\n\n=109. Applied science--Industry--Medicine.=--Science may find its\napplication in two ways, either to _things_, or to _men_. Applied to\nthings, it is called _industry_; applied to men, _medicine_. There are no\nspecial duties concerning industrial pursuits. Engineers, private or in\nthe service of the State, employed in civil or military works, have no\nother duties then the general duties of functionaries, military-men,\nemployees, etc. It is not the same with medicine. There are here\nobligations of a special and graver nature.\n\n=110. Duties of the physician--His knowledge.=--Knowledge is an obligation\nin every profession; everywhere it is indispensable to know the thing one\nis engaged in; but, in medicine, ignorance is of a much more serious\ncharacter: for it may end in _manslaughter_. How can any one attend the\nsick if he knows nothing of the human body; if he is ignorant of the\nsymptoms of a disease? He has, it is true, the resource of doing nothing;\nbut might not this also be manslaughter? Does he not then take the place\nof him who knows and might save the patient?\n\n2. _Secrecy._--The physician is above all held to secrecy. He must not\nmake known the diseases which have been revealed to him. This is what is\ncalled _medical secrecy_. This obligation may in certain cases give rise\nto the most serious troubles of conscience; but, as a principle, it may be\nsaid that secrecy is as absolute a duty for the physician as it is for the\nfather-confessor.\n\n3. _Courage._--The physician, we have seen, has his _point d'honneur_,\nlike the military-man; he often runs equally great dangers: he must, if\nnecessary, devote himself and risk his life. He requires also a great\nmoral courage, when he is brought before a serious illness where, at the\nmoment of a dangerous operation, when his hand must be as firm as his\nmind, he needs all the self-possession he can command.\n\n4. Duties toward the sick: _Kindness_ and _severity_.--The physician\nshould be firm in the treatment of his patients; he should insist that his\nprescriptions be unconditionally followed, for his responsibility rests\non this: he should rather give up the case than consent to a dangerous\ndisobedience. At the same time he must encourage the patient, raise his\nstrength by inspiring him with confidence, which is half the cure. He must\nalso, without deceiving it, uphold the courage of the family. In some\ncases it may be necessary to tell the patient the danger he is in.\n\n=111. Writers and artists.=--The morality of writers and artists is, as in\nall the preceding cases, determined by the object these persons devote\ntheir lives to. The object of the writer and artist is the realization of\nthe _beautiful_, either in speech or writing (literature), or through\ncolor and lines (painting, sculpture), or through sound (music). In all\nthese arts, the leading thought should be the interests of the art one is\ncultivating. One should as much as possible beware turning it into a\ntrade--that is to say, into a mercenary art, having gain only for its\nobject. Certainly one must live, and it is rare that writers, poets,\nartists, have at their command resources enough to do without the\npecuniary fruit of pen or hand; but the attainment of the beautiful should\nbe preferred to that of the useful: study, the imitation of the great\nmasters, contempt for fashion, striving after all that is delicate, noble,\npure, the avoiding of all that is low, frivolous, factitious: such are the\nprinciples which should regulate the morality of artist and writer. It is\nuseless to add that they should seek their success in what elevates the\nsoul, and not in what corrupts and degrades it. Coarseness, brutality,\nlicense, should be absolutely condemned. Better to devote one's self to a\nuseful and humble profession than employ one's talent in depraving morals,\nand degrading souls.\n\nThe duties of the poet have been eloquently expressed by Boileau in his\n_Art poetique_.\n\n1. It is a duty to devote one's self to poetry and the fine arts only when\none has a decided vocation for them.\n\n  \"Be rather a mason, if that be your talent.\"\n\n2. The poet should listen to good advice.\n\n  \"Make choice of a solid and wholesome censor.\"\n\n3. The poet and artist should, in their verses and works, be the\ninterpreters of virtue.\n\n  \"Let your soul and your morals, depicted in your works,\n  Never present of you but noble images.\"\n\n  Love, then, virtue; nourish your soul therewith.\n\n  \"The verse always savors of the baseness of the heart.\"\n\n4. They must avoid jealousies and rivalries.\n\n  \"Flee, above all, flee base jealousies.\"\n\n5. They must prefer glory to gain.\n\n  \"Work for glory and let no sordid gain\n  Ever be the object of a noble writer.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nDUTIES OF NATIONS AMONG THEMSELVES--INTERNATIONAL LAW.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =General principles of international law.=--They are the principles of\n    the natural law applied to the relations nations sustain to each\n    other.\n\n    =Of war.=--War founded on the right of self-defense. The reasons for a\n    just war.\n\n    =Defensive and offensive wars.=--This division does not necessarily\n    correspond to that of just or unjust wars.--Precautions and\n    preparations.--Duties in times of war: to reconcile as much as\n    possible the rights of humanity with those of patriotism.--Rights of\n    war concerning the enemy's property.--Conquest.--Neutrality.\n\n    =International treaties=: their character; their forms; their different\n    species.--Essential conditions for public treaties: they are the same\n    as for private contracts.\n\n    =Observance of treaties.=--Obligatory character of treaties: testimony\n    of Cardinal Richelieu.\n\n\nThe human race being divided into divers particular societies called\n_States_ or _nations_, those different bodies stand toward each other as\nindividuals; they are subject to the primitive laws existing naturally\namong all men, and they are obliged to practice certain duties toward each\nother.\n\n=112. International law.=--General principles.--It is this body of laws\nwhich is called _international law_, and which is nothing more than the\nnatural law itself, or the moral law applied to nations.\n\nIt is by virtue of this natural law that the nations ought to consider\neach other equals, and independent of each other; that they should not\ninjure each other, and should make each other, on the contrary, reparation\nfor injury done. Hence the right of self-defense in case of attack, of\nrepelling and restraining by force whatever violence may threaten or\noppress them.\n\nWhen nations practice toward each other the prescriptions of the natural\nlaw, they are in a state of _peace_ with each other; when they are obliged\nto resort to force to repel injustice, they are in a _state_ of _war_.\n\n=113. War.=--It is evident that in all nations the ruler, whoever he be\n(the people, nobles, or king), ought to have the right to carry on war;\nfor it is nothing else than the _right of self-defense_, and this right is\nthe same for the nation as for individuals. War is, then, legitimate in\nprinciple; but in fact, it may be _just_ or _unjust_ according as it takes\nplace for good or bad reasons, and sometimes for no reason at all.\n\n=114. Reasons of a just war.=--It is not easy to say in advance and in a\ngeneral manner, what may be the reasons of a just war; for they vary\naccording to circumstances; they may be all reduced to one fundamental\nprinciple, namely, the defense of the national territory when threatened.\nMoreover, a war may be undertaken not only in self-defense, but to protect\nallies when they are unjustly attacked. As for the following reasons, more\nor less frequently alleged as pretexts for war, good morality cannot\njustify them:\n\n1. Thus, the fear of the powerful neighbor, giving, for example, as a\npretext that he erects new citadels on his lands, organizes an army,\nincreases his troops, etc., is not a sufficiently just reason for war.\n\n2. Utility does not give the same right as necessity: for example, arms\ncould not legitimately be resorted to in order to gain possession of a\nplace which might suit our convenience, and be proper to protect our\nfrontiers.\n\n3. The same may be said of the desire to change dwelling-place, to leave\nmarshes, deserts, in order to settle in a more fertile country.\n\n4. It is no less unjust to make attempt upon the rights and liberties of a\npeople under pretext that they are less intelligent or less civilized than\nwe are. The cause of civilization is, then, not a cause for just war so\nlong as we have not ourselves been attacked by barbarians.\n\n5. Nor is it just to conquer a people under pretext that our conquest may\nbe to its advantage, bring it riches, or liberty, or morality, etc.\n\n=115. Defensive and offensive wars.=--We distinguish two kinds of war,\n_defensive_ and _offensive_. The first consists in defending the national\nterritory, the second, in attacking the enemy's territory.\n\nIt would be a mistake to confound defensive and offensive wars with just\nand unjust wars, and to believe that only the defensive wars are just, and\nall offensive ones unjust. This distinction has nothing to do with the\ncauses of the war, but concerns the manner of engaging in it; sometimes\none's interest lies in allowing one's self to be attacked, sometimes in\nattacking. He who has done us injustice may very well wait for us to come\nto him, instead of carrying arms to us; this does not prove him to be in\nthe right. He who, on the contrary, takes up arms to obtain reparation for\nan injustice or an insult, does not prove thereby that he is in the wrong.\n\n=116. Precautions and preparations.=--Even in the case of just causes,\nthere are certain precautions and preparations necessary in order that the\nwar be called a just one.\n\n1. The subject must be of great consequence. It is criminal, for a\nfrivolous cause, to expose men to all the evils that accompany a war, even\nthe most fortunate.\n\n2. There must be some probability of success: for it would be criminally\nrash to expose one's self foolhardily to certain destruction and, to avoid\na lesser evil, throw one's self into a greater.\n\n3. If we had no gentler means at our disposal.\n\nThere are two ways of settling a dispute between nations, without recourse\nto arms: 1, an _amicable conference_ between the parties; 2, the\nintervention of a disinterested third party, or _arbitrament_. A third\nmeans, much rarer and now abandoned, is that of _casting lots_. When all\nthe means of settling the difficulty amicably have been exhausted, there\nremains, before taking up arms, a final obligation, namely, to declare to\nthe enemy the resolution of employing the last means: this is what is\ncalled a _declaration of war_.\n\n=117. Duties in times of war.=--War having become a sad and unavoidable\nnecessity between nations, and the use of force determined on, it behooves\nas much as possible to restrict it in its effects, and to reconcile the\nrights of humanity with those of justice. Hence, certain rules established\nby jurisconsults who have treated these matters, and notably Grotius, the\nfounder of international law.\n\nThe fundamental principle of the right of war is the following: All that\nhas a morally necessary connection with the purpose of the war is allowed,\nbut nothing more. In fact, it would be wholly useless to have the right to\ndo a thing, if, to accomplish it, one could not employ the necessary means\nthereto; but, on the other hand, it would not be just if, under the\npretext of only defending one's rights, one should believe that everything\nis permitted, and should resort to the last extremities.\n\nFrom this general principle are deduced the following consequences, which\nare only its applications:\n\n1. It is certain that it is lawful to kill the enemy's soldiers, and, in\nfact, the purpose of the war being to constrain the enemy to recognize the\njustice of our cause, it would be vain to take up arms if one could not\nuse them. It is then one of the cases where manslaughter may be considered\ninnocent, and justified by the right of personal self-defense. (See above,\nCh. iii., p. 50.)\n\n2. However, the right of death upon the enemy has its limits. As a\nprinciple, it only extends to those who carry arms, and not to private\nindividuals who do not defend themselves, arms in hand. Such can only\naccidentally become the victims of the war: for instance, it is\nimpossible in a battle to protect the inhabitants of a disputed village\nagainst the balls of either party; but we should not knowingly strike dead\nthose who do not defend themselves.\n\n3. Strangers should be allowed to quit a country exposed to war; and if\nobliged to stay, they should be no further exposed than to share its\ninevitable perils with the other citizens.\n\n4. Prisoners of war should be neither killed nor reduced to slavery, but\nsimply prevented from doing mischief.\n\nAs to the means employed to deprive an enemy of his life, humanity, with\njust reason, interdicts the use of certain cowardly and perfidious means;\nas, for instance, poisoned bullets, or too cruel means of destruction, or\nlastly, assassination.\n\nThus, it would be odious to send traitors secretly charged to kill the\nhostile general. There is, besides, no example of such attempts in modern\nwars, and the human conscience would unanimously reprove them.\n\nThus much concerning the rights war gives over the lives of enemies. Let\nus consider now the duties regarding property.\n\n1. War gives the right to destroy the property of the enemy; it is what is\ncalled the _right of ravage_. But ravage should not be pursued for its own\nsake, but only to weaken the enemy. Thus we should as much as possible\nspare public monuments, works of art, etc.\n\n2. It is a right of war to acquire and appropriate things belonging to the\nenemy until agreement as to the moneys due, including the expenses of the\nwar.\n\n3. It is by virtue of these principles that, in case of naval encounters,\nit is justifiable to take possession of the enemy's vessels, and not only\nof men-of-war, but of merchant-men and the goods they carry.\n\n4. This right upon the enemy's property is only the sovereign's; he alone\nhas a right to appropriate, in the name of the State, the property of the\ninvaded territory, by way of restitution or guaranty; but war does not\nconfer upon single individuals the right of taking possession of people's\nproperty and appropriating it: this is simply pillage.\n\n=118. Conquest.=--We call _right of conquest_ the right which belongs to a\nState to bring under its sovereignty the whole or part of another State,\nby virtue of the right of war. Conquest, it will be seen, is but the right\nof the strongest. It is contrary to the principle of modern political\nsocieties, which requires that the State rest on the free contract of\ncitizens, and that a people should only be subject to laws consented to.\n\nIt is not easy to have an official authentication of this consent; but it\nis certain that there are annexations that are voluntary, and others that\nare not. The latter, it must be hoped, will become less and less frequent\nas the idea of justice among nations develops.\n\n=119. Neutrality.=--We call _neutrality_ the situation of States which, in\na case of war, side with neither the one nor the other of the\nbelligerents, but remain at peace with the two parties. They are,\ntherefore, obliged to practice toward them the laws of natural right\nimpartially: if, for example, they render to one a service of humanity,\nthey must not refuse the same service to the other. They must not furnish\nmeans of hostility to either the one or the other, or they must furnish\nthem to both. They must lend their good offices for a settlement if they\nhave any chance of being listened to.\n\nThese rules are very simple; but, practically, the situation of neutrals\nis a very delicate one, and gives rise to numerous difficulties, for the\nsolution of which, resort must be had to the special treatises on the law\nof nations.\n\n=120. International treaties: their characters: their forms.=--We have seen\nthat nations have among each other, the same as individuals, obligations\nand rights which they derive from the natural law. But there are other\nobligations and other rights which are no longer based on nature, but on\n_special contracts_ or _usages_. The international law which bears on\nusages is called _customary right_; that which comes from compacts, is\ncalled _conventional right_. The compacts between States are called\n_treaties_.\n\nTreaties are _equal_ or _unequal_, according as they promise equal or\nunequal things; _personal_ or _real_, according as they relate only to\ncertain persons, and during their lives, or as they are independent of\npersons and last as long as the State itself; _pure_ and _simple_ or\n_conditional_; in the first case the stipulations are absolute; in the\nsecond they depend on certain conditions.\n\nThere are different species of treaties according to their different\nobjects: treaties of _alliance_; treaties of _boundaries_; treaties of\n_cession_; treaties of _navigation_ and _commerce_; treaties of\n_neutrality_; treaties of _peace_.\n\n=121. Essential conditions of public treaties.=--As a principle, the rules\nwhich govern international compacts are (with the exception of a few\ndifferences) the same as those which govern private compacts. There are\nthree fundamental conditions: 1, the consent; 2, a licit cause; 3, the\ncapacity of the contracting parties. (See above, 92.)\n\nThe _consent_ should be: 1, declared; 2, free; 3, mutual.\n\nThe licit causes are those which are physically possible or morally\nlegitimate; the illicit causes are those which are contrary to morality,\nas, for example, would be the establishment of slavery.\n\nThe capacity of making a compact belongs to the sovereign of the State\nalone; but it is necessary that this sovereign be really invested with the\npower. A sovereign stripped of his sovereignty has no power to make\ncompacts, although he might have all the most legitimate rights; and, on\nthe other hand, a usurping power can legitimately make compacts. The\nreason of this is, that foreign nations are not capable to decide what\nwith another people constitutes the legitimacy or non-legitimacy of power:\nthere is for them, therefore, only the power _de facto_. Yet this is but\nthe general rule. There may be cases where a foreign government may refuse\nto recognize a usurper's power.\n\n=122. Observance of treaties.=--The obligation to observe treaties is based\non the natural law. Whether compacts take place between States or\nindividuals, it matters little. The States, in respect to each other, are\nlike private individuals. Certain publicists, particularly Machiavelli,\nhave maintained that the obligation to observe treaties only lasts as long\nas these accord with our interests. As much as to say that one should not\nmake any compacts. Besides, Machiavelli's opinion is in such disrepute\nthat it is almost useless to discuss it. We will content ourselves with\nsetting against it the following beautiful thought of a great politician:\n\n    Kings should be very careful in making treaties, but when once made,\n    they must observe them religiously. I know very well that many\n    politicians teach the contrary; but without stopping to consider what\n    Christianity has to say regarding these maxims, I maintain that, since\n    the loss of honor is greater than that of life, a great prince should\n    rather risk his person, and even the loss of his State, than break his\n    word, which he cannot break without losing his reputation,\n    consequently, his greatest strength as a sovereign. (Cardinal de\n    Richelieu, _Testament politique_, 2{e} partie, ch. vi.)\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nFAMILY DUTIES.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =The family.=--Origin and history of the family.--The family\n    originating in the necessity of the perpetuation of the species, has\n    gradually gained in morality until it has reached the present state,\n    namely, _monogamy_, or marriage between one man and one woman: a\n    progress so far as the dignity of woman and the equality of the sexes\n    are concerned.\n\n    =Duties of marriage.=--The duties of marriage begin before marriage: to\n    be prudent in the choice of a partner; to prefer the moral interests\n    to the material interests.\n\n    Mutual duties of the married couple: fidelity founded: 1, on a free\n    promise; 2, on the very idea of marriage.\n\n    Duties peculiar to the husband: protection of the family, work, etc.\n    Celibacy and its duties.\n\n    =Duties of parents toward children.=--Of the rights of parents.--Basis\n    and limits of the paternal authority.--Instituted in the interest of\n    the children, it is limited by that very interest.\n\n    Parents have not, therefore, 1, the right of life and death; 2, the\n    right to strike and maltreat; 3, the right to sell; 4, the right to\n    corrupt.\n\n    Duties of parents.--General duty of affection without privileges or\n    preferences.--Duty of maintenance and education.--Decrease of parental\n    responsibility in proportion to the age of the children.--Three\n    periods in paternal authority.\n\n    =Duties of children respecting their parents and respecting each\n    other.=--Filial duty.--Fraternal duty.\n\n    =Duties of masters towards their servants.=\n\n\n=123. The family.=--It is a law among all living beings to perpetuate their\nspecies. This law is among animals subject to no moral law. Yet are there\ncertain species where between the male and female a kind of society is\nestablished; and with nearly all animals the attachment of the mother to\nher young, shows itself by most striking and touching proofs. But this\nmaternal interest does not usually last beyond the time necessary to bring\nup the little ones and enable them to provide for themselves. Beyond this\ntime, the offspring separate and disperse. They live their own life; the\nmother knows them no longer. As to the father, he has scarcely ever known\nthem. Such are the domestic ties among animals: and, rude as they may be,\none cannot help already recognizing and admiring in them the anticipated\nimage of the family.\n\nThe family in the human species has the same origin and the same end as in\nthe animal species, namely, the perpetuation of the species; but in the\nformer it is exalted and ennobled by additional sentiments: it is\nconsecrated and sanctioned by laws of duty and right to which animals are\nabsolutely incapable of rising.\n\nIf we consider the history of the human race, we see the family rise\nprogressively from a certain primitive state, which is not very far from\nthe animal promiscuity, to the condition in which we see it to-day in most\ncivilized countries. Among savage nations, marriages have little stability\nand duration: they are as easily broken as formed. Female dignity and\nmodesty are scarcely known among them: woman is more a slave than a\ncompanion, and the freedom of morals has scarcely any limits. Yet is there\nno society where marriages are not subject to some sacred or civil\nformalities, which shows that savages, ignorant as we may suppose them to\nbe, have a presentiment of duties which, under favorable circumstances,\ntend to purify and elevate the relations of the sexes. Later, in other\nsocieties, marriages take a more regular form and a more fixed character;\nyet, admitting polygamy, more or less, as among the ancients. In short,\nmany circumstances have presided over the legal relations of the two\nsexes, before, through the natural progress of morals and Christian\ninfluence, monogamy became the almost universal law of the family in\ncivilized countries.\n\nIt has been seen, then, that as the moral sentiment became more refined,\nthe family, as it exists to-day, became more closely related to the State;\nand it will always be safer, in order to establish the legitimacy of such\nan institution and secure for it due respect, to depend more on sentiment\nthan on reasoning.\n\nBesides, the family is a natural result of the necessary relations which\nexist between mother, father, and child.\n\nIt is the birth of the children which is the end and _raison d'etre_ of\nthe family.\n\nThis fact, let it be well noted, already determines between mother and\nchild a relation of some duration. The child is altogether unable to live\nand develop alone. The mother owes it its nourishment; and nature, having\nherself prepared for the child in the breast of the mother the sources of\nits subsistence truly indicated thereby that they should be bound to each\nother by a positive and inevitable tie. It is true the same tie exists\nalso among the families of the animals and their young (at least with\nmammalia); and we have seen that there exist among them some germs of\nfamily. But let us not forget that it takes only a little time for the\nyoung of the animal species to reach that degree of strength which enables\nit to leave its mother without danger. With the human species, on the\ncontrary, it takes a considerable time. Before the first or second year\nthe child is unable to walk; when it walks, it is still unable to walk\nalone, to find its food, to develop in any way. Imagine a child two,\nthree, five years old, abandoned to himself in a desert island: he would\ndie of hunger. Besides, instinct is much less strong in man than in\nanimals, and much less certain; when an adult, man follows his own reason;\nin childhood he needs the reason of others. What shall I say of his moral\neducation and intellectual development? The child needs a teacher as well\nas a nurse. We see that the relations between mother and child must\nnaturally be prolonged far beyond those between animals. The first natural\nand necessary relations will finally create between these two beings\nhabits of such a character that they will never more separate, even when\nthey can do without each other. At least, this separation will not take\nplace before man is completely man; and although son and daughter may\nseparate from the family to become in their turn heads of families, there\nwill always exist between parents and children certain ties, certain\nrelations, all the closer, as they each follow the laws of nature. In\nshort, children can never be seen, as is the case in the animal species,\nbecoming complete strangers to their father and mother.\n\nI have first considered the tie between the mother and the child, because\nit is the most evident and the most necessary. But this relation is not\nthe only one. The child, we have said, needs protection for a long time:\ndoes the mother's protection suffice? To judge from the way woman is\nconstituted, one can see that she needs protection herself. Her weakness\nand her sex expose her to attacks; she is then but an insufficient\nprotection to the feeble creature she is united to by so many ties.\nTherefore must the family have a protector; and who should be the natural\nprotector of the child, if not the father? of the wife, if not the\nhusband? The necessity of protection renders, then, man indispensable to\nthe family. We may add to this, the necessity of subsistence. Undoubtedly\nthe mother gives the child its first nourishment; but later on, the common\nmeans of subsistence must come from work. Now, without denying that woman\nis called to work the same as man, and whilst admitting that in the simple\nand natural state she is very much stronger than in the civilized state,\nit must, nevertheless, be admitted that woman, in general, is less fitted\nfor work than man; that with more trouble, she produces less, and that a\nlarge portion of her life is necessarily taken up with her peculiar cares.\nWithout the work of the head of the family, the common subsistence would,\ntherefore, be imperiled.\n\nIf we now consider the education of the children, it is beyond doubt that\nthe maternal education is insufficient. The mother represents in the\nfamily, love, solicitude, serviceableness. In a solid education,\nauthority should be added to these. It may be noticed that in children\nbrought up by one of the parents only, there is in general something\nincomplete. Those who have had the father only, lack something in\ntenderness and delicacy of feeling which the graces of maternity\ninsensibly communicate to the child; those who have had the mother only,\nare lacking in discipline and solidity of character: they are capricious\nand of a more passionate willfulness. Nature, then, appeals to the joint\nefforts of both father and mother in the education of the child. Let us\nadd now that this close tie, which on one side attaches the child to the\nmother and on the other to the father, should also attach parents to each\nother, far beyond the first and transitory tie which first joined them.\nUnited in a common undertaking, namely, to support and educate the being\nthey have brought into the world--it is impossible that they should not\ncontinue to be more and more closely united.\n\n=124. Family duties.=--This is the natural history of the family. It was\nprobably in a similar manner, with many vicissitudes, that it gradually\nformed and then became transformed. Let us now see how out of this\nassociation, founded by instincts, interests, and circumstances, the\nprinciple of duty makes a sacred and indissoluble institution.\n\nThere can be distinguished in the family four kinds of relations, whence\nspring four classes of duties:\n\n    1. The relations between the husband and wife.\n\n    2. The relations of parents to children.\n\n    3. The relations of children to parents.\n\n    4. The relations of children to each other.\n\nWhence conjugal duty, paternal or maternal duty, filial duty, and\nfraternal duty.\n\nTo these four relations, there may be added a fifth: that of the head of a\nfamily to his servants.\n\n=125. Duties of marriage.=--The duties of marriage begin before marriage:\nthey begin with the mutual choice of the man and the woman. For the woman,\nit usually happens, at least in our society [in France], that the choice\nis determined by the parents. The responsibility, then, falls upon them.\nNow, this choice should not be made lightly and foolishly. It should be\ndetermined by a serious and noble conception of the duties and end of\nmarriage.\n\n\"Marriage,\" our Code admirably says, \"is an association between man and\nwoman, to share the pleasures and bear in common the trials of life.\"[68]\n\nMarriage is, therefore, a compact entirely moral: it is not only a union\nof bodies or fortunes, it is a union of souls. Life in common and\nindissoluble, with all its possible accidents, is too heavy a burden to be\nleft to chance. A man should think not only of his own happiness, but also\nof that of the woman whom he associates with his destiny; if he does not\nconsider himself strong enough to fulfill toward her all the duties which\nsuch a connection imposes on him, he should not unite her to himself by\nindissoluble vows; if he does not think that he can love and respect her\nall through life, let him spare himself and her a life-long misery. We may\nsee by this how important in conjugal union are a harmony of character, a\njust and mutual esteem, and an enlightened affection. To marry rashly and\ntoo hastily, and thus to risk future happiness, is already failing in a\nfirst duty. One should, therefore, not rely too implicitly upon\nindifferent or interested go-betweens.\n\nIt is said, indeed, that there is no way of knowing with certainty the\ncharacter and sincerity of men. Many a one who in society appears amiable\nand estimable, is perhaps, in private life, selfish and tyrannical; women,\nit is said, moreover, are particularly skilled, even when young, in\nassuming qualities which they do not possess, and in disguising their\nfaults; that if one were constantly scrutinizing and distrusting, marriage\nwould be impossible; for the most sagacious are deceived in them, etc.,\netc. All this, to a certain extent, is true; and there could be nothing\ndone without some sort of confidence; but this confidence, when it is the\nresult of precaution and prudence, is much less often deceived than\nsatirists would have it. Besides, if there be room for deception, even\nafter a reasonably long intimacy, the chances are at least better than\nthey would be if the parties were to rush headlong into a future\nabsolutely unknown to them.\n\nAnother grave error is that of seeing in marriage nothing but a union of\nfortunes and names.\n\nIt is bringing what in reality is the noblest and most delicate of\ncontracts, down to a simple commercial act. Certainly one should not\npropose to the inexperience of young people the union of two poverties, as\nan ideal: it is well known that poverty is much harder to bear when one\nhas to share it with a wife and children, than alone. But whilst in\ncertain classes of society marriage could scarcely be possible otherwise\n(workingmen having no capital to back their marriage contracts), the\nclasses that have some competency should not make property the first\nconsideration; character, mind, and merit should by far outweigh it.\n\nWe distinguish generally two kinds of marriages: the reason-marriages\n(_mariages de raison_) and the inclination marriages; and much has been\nsaid for and against both. These are questions which will never be solved,\nbecause experience shows that they are mostly dependent on circumstances.\nIt may be said that, as a principle, the true marriage is the marriage\nbased on inclination enlightened by reason. What experience and wisdom\ncondemn, are the foolish inclinations--those, for example, that take no\naccount of age, education, social surroundings, necessities of life. These\nsorts of passion scarcely ever stand the test of time and circumstances,\nand are generally followed by a painful reaction. \"There is,\" says La\nBruyere, \"hardly any other reason for loving no longer, than to have loved\ntoo much.\" But inclination is not always unreasonable; and when it can be\nreconciled with the counsels of wisdom, which is no rare thing, it is\nbetter than cold reason, and answers better to the purpose of marriage: it\nis a surer guaranty of its dignity and happiness.\n\nA wise moralist, Mr. Adolphe Garnier, makes a very reasonable reply to\nthose who pretend that inclination disappears very fast in marriage: \"We\nreply,\" he says, \"that inclination will at least have formed a true\nmarriage whilst it lasted. It will leave for all the rest of life a\nremembrance of the first years, which shall have been purified, ennobled,\nsanctified by this heart-affection. This remembrance will sweeten more\nthan one bitter moment, will prevent more than one anguish. Duty will be\nsustained by a remembrance of past happiness.\"[69]\n\nThe marriage once made, we have to consider, one after the other, the\nduties of the husband and those of the wife. There are some they have in\ncommon, and others which belong to the particular part each plays in the\nhousehold.\n\nThe duty which the husband and wife have in common, is fidelity. This duty\nis based on the very nature of marriage, as also upon a mutual promise.\n\nLet us begin by this latter consideration. Marriage, such as it is\ninstituted in civilized or Christian countries, is monogamy, or marriage\nof one man with one woman (except in cases of decease). Such is the state\none binds one's self to in entering the marriage relation: one accepts\nthereby the obligation of an inviolable fidelity. If then a promise is\nsacred in respect to material goods, how much more sacred is the promise\nbetween hearts, and this mutual gift of soul to soul, which constitutes\nthe dignity of marriage! Conjugal fidelity is, then, a duty of honor, a\nveritable debt.\n\nBut fidelity is not only the obligatory result of a promise, of a given\nword; it is also the result of the very idea of marriage, and marriage in\nits turn results from the nature of things.\n\nMarriage was instituted to save the dignity of woman. Experience, in fact,\nteaches us that wherever polygamy exists, woman is not far from being\nman's slave. Man, dividing his affections between several women, cannot\nlove each one with that refinement and constancy which render her his\nequal. How could there exist between a master and several slaves vying for\nhis looks and caprices, that intimacy, that mutual sharing of good and\nevil wherein the moral beauty of marriage consists? It is quite evident\nthat equality between man and woman cannot exist where the latter is\nobliged to share with others the common good of conjugal affection.\n\nHence the institution of marriage which was established in the interest of\nthe woman, and which is the protection of the weaker party. It evidently\nfollows that, on her side, she is held to the same fidelity which she has\na right to demand. Conjugal infidelity, on whichever side it occurs, is\nthen a disguised polygamy, and, moreover, an irregular and capricious\npolygamy, very inferior to the legal; for this recognizes at least certain\nrules, and establishes with precision the condition of the several wives.\nBut adultery destroys all regular and fixed relations between the married\ncouple; it introduces into marriage the open or clandestine usurpation of\nsworn rights; it tends to re-establish the primitive and savage state,\nwhere the coming together of the sexes depended on chance and caprice.\n\nFidelity is for the married couple a common and reciprocal duty. Each,\nbesides, has peculiar duties. We shall lay particular stress on those of\nthe husband. The first of all, which carries with it all others, is\n_protection_.\n\n\"Man, being the head of the family, is its natural protector. He holds his\nauthority from the laws and from usage. Moreover, it results from the very\nnature of things: for between two persons, even perfectly united, it is\ndifficult, it is impossible, to meet with a constant uniformity of views,\nsentiments, and wishes. There must be, then, a determining voice; one of\nthe two persons sharing in common domestic authority, must have the\nprivilege of superior authority. Now, what are the titles to this superior\nauthority? These titles are strength and reason. Evidently, power in the\nfamily belongs by right to him who is strong enough to defend it and\nreasonable enough to exercise it.\n\nBut this authority would only be an insupportable privilege if man\npretended to exercise it without doing any thing, without returning to the\nfamily in the form of security what it pays him in respect and obedience.\n_Work_ is the first duty of man as head of the family. This is true of all\nclasses of society, as well of those who live upon their income, as of\nthose who live by their work. For the first have to make themselves worthy\nof the fortune they have received by noble occupations, or, at least, by\npreserving it and making it bear fruit through a wise management: and the\nsecond have, I do not say, a fortune to acquire, which is an aim rarely\nattained, but they have a far more pressing object before them, namely,\nthe livelihood of those who live under their protection.\"[70]\n\nNo one has better depicted, and in a more delicate and sensible manner,\nthe common duties of husbands and wives than Xenophon, who in this\nparticular is a worthy pupil of Socrates, the one of all the ancient sages\nwho best understood the duties of the family. Socrates relates in the\nfollowing terms the conversation of Ischomachus and his wife,--a young\nmarried pair,--in which the husband instructs his wife in domestic duties.\n\n\"When she had become more familiar with me, and a closer connection had\nemboldened her to speak freely, I put to her something like the following\nquestions: 'Tell me, my wife, dost thou begin to understand why I have\nchosen thee, and why thy parents have given thee to me?... If the gods\ngive us children, we must consult with each other and do our best in\nbringing them up: for it will be a happiness for both of us to find in\nthem the protectors and support of our old age. But from this day on, all\nthat is in this house is ours in common; what is mine is thine, and thou\nhast thyself already put in common all that thou hast brought. We have\nbut to count which has brought most; but we must well remember one thing,\nand that is, that it will be the one of us two who will best manage the\ncommon property that shall have brought the most valuable share of\ncapital.'\n\n\"To this, my wife replied: 'In what can I assist thee? What am I able to\ndo? All depends on thee. My mother told me that my task was to conduct\nmyself well.'--'Yes, by Jupiter!' I replied, 'and my father also told me\nthe same thing; but it is the duty of a well-behaving couple so to behave\nthat they may be as prosperous as possible, that by honest and just means\nthey may add new goods to those they have. The gods, forsooth, did well\nwhen they coupled man with woman for the greatest utility of mankind. The\ninterest of the family and house demands work without and within. Now the\ngods, from the first, adapted the nature of woman for the cares and the\nworks of the interior, and that of man for the cares and the works of the\nexterior. Cold, heat, travels, war, man is so constituted as to be able to\nbear all; on the other hand, the gods have given to woman the inclination\nand mission to nurse her offspring; it is also she who is in charge of the\nprovisions, whilst man's care is to ward off all that could injure the\nhousehold.\n\n\"'As neither is by nature perfect in all points, they necessarily need\neach other; and their union is all the more useful, as what the one lacks\nmay be supplied by the other. Therefore, O wife, it behooves us, when\ninstructed regarding the functions the gods have assigned to each of us,\nto endeavor to acquit ourselves the best we can of those that are\nincumbent on both.\n\n\"'There is, however,' I said, 'one function of thine which will please\nthee least, and that is, that if any one of thy slaves should sicken,\nthou, by the cares due to all, shouldst watch over his or her recovery.'\n'By Jupiter,' said my wife, 'nothing will please me more, since,\nrecovering by my care, they will be grateful to me and show me still more\naffection than in the past.' This answer delighted me,\" continued\nIschomachus, \"and I said to her: 'Thou shalt have other cares more\nagreeable, namely, when of an unskilled slave thou shalt make a good\nspinner; when of an ignorant steward or stewardess, thou shalt make a\ncapable, devoted, intelligent servant. But the sweetest charm shall be,\nwhen, more perfect than I, thou shalt have made me thy servant; when,\ninstead of fearing old age, lest it deprive thee of thy influence in thy\nhousehold, thou shalt have gained the assurance that in growing old thou\nbecomest for me a still better companion, for thy children a still better\nhousekeeper, for thy household a still more honored mistress. For beauty\nand goodness do not depend on youth: they increase through life in the\neyes of men, by means of virtues.'\"[71]\n\nWe shall say a few words, without laying greater stress than necessary,\nabout a question often debated, namely, that of the dissolution of\nmarriage or divorce. We may observe, on this subject, with an excellent\nmoralist,[72] whom we have already cited, that as marriage becomes purer,\nits dissolution will become more and more difficult. In former days, the\nfirst aspect of the conjugal relation showed the husband to be the master\nof the woman; he bought her and sent her again away as he would a\nslave--he had the right of repudiation. Later on, he could no longer send\nher away from him without asking the law to pronounce a divorce; but he\nwas at first alone in claiming this right. Next, woman obtained the same\nright in her turn. At last divorce was suppressed, at least in some\nStates, and particularly in our country;[73] and we think, with the\nmoralist quoted above, that this is the true road to progress.\n\nAn English moralist[74] has justly said: \"If love is a passion which a\ntrifle may start and a trifle kill, friendship is a calm affection\ncemented by reason and habit. It becomes stronger by rule, and it is\nnever so strong as when two persons unite in the pursuit of a common\ninterest. How many slight annoyances will they not endeavor to overlook,\nout of prudence, if they are obliged to live with each other, and which,\nwith the prospect of an easy separation, would be allowed to fester even\nto aversion!\" It is a duty for the individual conscience, even though\ndivorce should be legally permitted, to consider marriage absolutely\nindissoluble, or at least make it a last resort; it is, above all, a\nstrict duty, in contracting a marriage, not to look to divorce as a hope\nand end.\n\nSome moralists have asked whether marriage was a duty. We do not hesitate\nto answer in the negative;[75] that it is not a duty in the case of women\nis evident, since it is their lot not to choose themselves, but to be\nchosen; now it does not always depend on them to find some one to choose\nthem; and if it is not an obligation for one of the two sexes, it would be\nstrange if it were one for the other. Besides, the right of celibacy\ncannot be denied to one who gives up family life to devote himself to\nworks of charity, as in the religious orders, and if this be a sufficient\nreason, there are many more of the same kind which might sanction the same\nconduct: as, for example, devotion to science or the country. If it be\nobjected that every one owes himself to the preservation of the race, and\nthat if no one married the race would perish, we can reply that there will\nalways be men ready enough to marry, so that no such consequences need be\nfeared.\n\nBut the liberty of celibacy can be granted by the moral law on two\nconditions only: the first, that it be based on serious reasons and not\non selfishness; namely, that there be good reasons to believe that one\ncould render more service in that state than in an imprudently contracted\nmarriage. The second condition, that celibacy does not interfere with\npurity of morals--the relations between the sexes being, in fact, only\nproper and legitimate in marriage.\n\nThe relations between the sexes outside of marriage can only be adultery,\nseduction, or licentiousness. In the first case, the woman is induced to\nviolate her duties, her vows, to give up all that alone can guarantee her\ndignity. In the second, the honor and dignity of a whole life is\nsacrificed to passion; in the third, you make yourself an accomplice to a\npublic and deliberate shame--a shame which would not exist except for just\nsuch accomplices. At any rate, the dignity of the woman--that is to say,\nof the weaker sex--is sacrificed to the passion of the stronger.\n\n=126. Duties of parents toward their children.=--An English philosopher\nsaid: \"Such a one is the father of such a one; hence he is his master,\"\nand he claims that paternal authority was thus based on the authority of\nmastership.\n\nThis is a profound error. In the first place, no man can be absolutely the\nmaster of another man, unless that other be a slave: there can only exist\nrelations of obedience or allegiance, required by social necessity, but\nwhich do not permit any man to be in absolute dependence upon another. The\nrelation between father and child is, it is true, of a particular kind;\nbut it is not any more than the other the authority of a master over his\nslave, or of a proprietor over his property.\n\nLet us look into its origin, and we shall find, at the same time, the\nextent and the limits of paternal authority.\n\nTo begin with, we will observe that, although usage has consecrated the\nterm paternal authority as meaning the authority exercised by parents over\nchildren, this authority includes the rights of both; of the mother as\nwell as of the father: 1, in default of the father, in case of absence or\ndeath, the mother has over the child exactly the same authority as the\nfather; 2, it is an absolute duty with parents to see that there be not,\nin regard to their children, two separate authorities in the house, two\nkinds of contradictory orders; in the eyes of the child there should be\nbut one and the same authority, exercised by two persons, but essentially\nindivisible; 3, in cases of conflict, the will of the father should\nprevail, unless the law interfere; but the father should use such a\nprivilege only as a last resort, and where it can be made evident that it\nis in the interest of the child. Even then he should see that the\nobedience to one of the parents be no disobedience to the other, for that\nwould be destroying at its root the very authority he makes use of.\n\nPaternal authority is, then, the common authority of both parents over\ntheir children; and it is only an exception to the rule when the authority\nof one parent becomes detrimental to that of the other.\n\nWhat is now the principle of this authority? A purely physical reason is\ngiven for it; that the child, namely, is in some respect a part of the\nparents. But this reason is not sufficient; for it would presuppose\npaternal authority to last all through life under the same conditions and\nsame degree of force; whereas it continues ever diminishing as the child\nbecomes able to govern himself.\n\nThe true reason for paternal or maternal authority lies in the feebleness\nof the child, in its physical, intellectual, and moral incapacity. The\nchild in coming into the world is utterly incapable of doing for itself.\nSupposing even that it could satisfy its physical wants, experience shows\nthat it could not give itself an education, without which it cannot be\ntruly a man. This state of feebleness requires, then, indispensable\nassistance, and an assistance of long duration. It needs a hand to support\nand feed it, a heart to love it, an intelligence to enlighten it. To whom\nbelongs this _role_ of educator, protector, sustainer? \"There have been\nsome who have wished to take the child from the family to give it to the\nState; this is a great error; for the child should evidently belong to\nthose without whom he would have no existence. In the first place, it\nwere burdening society with a thing it is not responsible for; moreover,\nit has no right upon the child, no particular tie existing between them;\nfinally, it offers no sufficient guaranty, and there can be at best\nexpected of it but a vague and general solicitude, if, indeed, the same is\nnot a partial one, and in favor of those from whom it may derive most\nadvantages; whilst parents should unquestionably have charge of the child,\nsince it is through them it exists; and having charge of it, gives them a\nright to it: and how could they be responsible for this being they have\ngiven life to, if they could not in some measure dispose of it? There are\nthree ties between the parents and the child: a physical bond, a\nheart-bond, a reason-bond: no other authority rests on more natural\nprinciples; none is more necessary, none is protected by greater\nguarantees.\"[76]\n\nNot only would the State, in taking possession of the child, encumber\nitself with functions for the performance of which it is unfitted, but it\nwould also violate the natural rights of the human heart. Parents are,\nthen, invested by nature herself, with the duty of supporting and\neducating their children. But this duty calls for authority. How could a\nfather and mother direct the child in the path of right and justice; how\ncould they impart to it their wisdom and experience; how could they\nprepare the way for its becoming in its turn a moral agent--one, namely,\nthat acts and governs himself of his own accord--if they are not at the\nsame time invested with the authority that commands obedience?\n\nPaternal authority, as we see by this, has no other origin than the actual\ninterest of the child: the mission of the parents is to represent it; they\nhave in some respect the government of its life. The whole authority of\nthe father upon the child is, then, limited by the interests and the\nrights of the child itself. Beyond what may be useful to its physical and\nmoral existence, the father can do nothing. Such are the extent and limits\nof his authority.\n\nFrom these principles we deduce:\n\n1. That parents have now no right of life and death upon their children as\nthey have had under certain legislations.\n\n2. That they have neither the right to strike them, maltreat them, wound\nthem--in short, treat them as they would animals or things; and although\nusage appears to allow certain corporeal punishments, it will always be a\nbad example and a bad habit to use blows as a means of education.\n\n3. Parents have no right to traffic with the liberty of their sons, to\nsell them as slaves as in ancient times, or to turn them into instruments\nof gain, as in many families even to this day. Certainly one could not\nwholly forbid a father to make a child work toward the support of the\nfamily, but it must be done without losing sight of the child's strength,\nand without sacrificing its intellectual and moral education.\n\n4. Parents have no right to corrupt their children, by making them\naccomplices in their own profligacy.\n\nGrotius justly distinguishes three periods in paternal authority:[77] the\nfirst, when the children have as yet no discernment, and are not capable\nof acting with full knowledge; the second, when their judgment, being\nalready ripe, they are still members of the family and have no business of\ntheir own; the last, when they have left their father's house, either to\nbecome heads of families themselves, or to enter into another. In the\nfirst of these conditions, the will of the parents is entirely substituted\nfor that of the children, and their authority, within the limits above\nstated, is consequently absolute. In the third case, the son, having\nreached his majority or maturity, has conquered for himself an independent\nwill; paternal authority must consequently change into moral influence,\nwhich a grateful son will respect, but which is no longer, properly so\ncalled, an authority. Finally, in the intermediate state, which is the\nmost difficult of all, the paternal will, whilst remaining preponderant,\nyields more and more to the will of the children, thereby preparing it\ntoward becoming sufficient to itself.\n\nLet us examine the duties of the parents at these different periods of\npaternal authority.\n\nThere is, to begin with, a general duty, which overrules the whole life of\nthe parents as well as of the children, and which is independent of the\nlatter's age: it is the duty of love. Parents must love their children; it\nis the foundation of all the rest. It may perhaps be objected that love is\na natural feeling and cannot be a duty; that the heart is not subject to\nthe will; that one may love or not love, according as one is by nature so\nconstituted; that duty therefore has nothing to do with it. It is also\nsaid that paternal or maternal love is so natural a sentiment that it is\nuseless to make a duty of it.\n\nThese arguments do not appear to us decisive; and we have already answered\nthem. We cannot, of course, create within ourselves sentiments which do\nnot already exist. But we can cultivate or allow to die out sentiments\nwhich do exist within us naturally. The degree of sensibility in each\nindividual depends, I admit, on his or her peculiar constitution of mind\nand heart; but it depends on us to reach the highest degree of sensibility\nwe are capable of. For example, he who leaves his children or removes them\nfrom him (unless it be for their good[78]) may be certain that the love he\nbears them will insensibly die out. He, on the contrary, who takes the\ntrouble to busy himself with his children, to win their love by\nintelligent and constant attentions, will necessarily feel his heart grow\nsofter by this intercourse, and his natural feelings will gain more and\nmore strength.\n\nBut if it is a duty to love one's children, it is also in consequence of\nthis duty that one should love them for themselves, and not for one's\nself. It is not our happiness we should seek in our children, but theirs;\nand for this reason does it sometimes become necessary to govern one's own\nsensibility, and deny children pleasures detrimental to their best\ninterests. The excess of tenderness is often, as has been said, but a want\nof tenderness; it is a sort of delicate selfishness, shrinking from the\npain the seeming suffering of the children might inflict, and not knowing\nhow to refuse them any thing for fear of displeasing them, prepares for\nthem in this manner cruel deceptions against the time when they will have\nto face the sad realities of life.\n\nA corollary of what precedes, is that the father should love all his\nchildren equally, and guard against showing a preference. He should have\nno favorites among them, still less victims. He should not, from feelings\nof family pride, prefer the boys to the girls, or the oldest to the\nyoungest. He should not even yield to the natural predilection which\ninclines us to give our preference to the most amiable, the most\nintelligent, the most attractively endowed. It has often been observed\nthat mothers have a particular tenderness for the feeblest of their\nchildren, or those that have given most trouble. If preference is at all\njustifiable it is in this case.\n\nAfter having established the general principle of the duties of the head\nof a family, namely, love, and an equal love, for all his children, let us\nconsider the particular duties this general duty comprises. They bear upon\ntwo principal points: the preservation and the education of the children.\n\nWe have seen that the fact of giving life to children, carries with it as\nan inevitable consequence the duty of preserving it to them. The child not\nbeing able to provide its own food, the parents must furnish it: this\nresults from the very nature of things.\n\nWhence it follows, that a father must work to provide for his children:\nthis is so evident and necessary a duty that there is hardly any need of\ndwelling on it.\n\nBut it is not only for the present that the head of the family ought to\nprovide; he should provide for the future also. He should, on the one\nhand, foresee the case when, by some possible misfortune, he may be taken\nfrom his children before they are grown; and on the other, prepare the way\nto their providing for themselves. The first case shows us how economy and\nprudence become thus a sacred duty for the head of a family. This also\nexplains how it may be a duty in contracting a marriage not to lose sight\nof the question of property: not that this consideration should not give\nway before others more important; but other things being equal, the best\nmarriage is that which, keeping in view the future interests of the\nchildren, provides against the case when by some misfortune they may be\nleft orphans at an early age.\n\nIn supposing the most favorable cases, the father and mother may hope that\nthey will live long enough to see their children becoming in their turn\nindependent persons, able to provide for themselves. It is in view of\nthis, that parents should plan a profession or a career for their\nchildren; in most cases, it is a necessity, it is expedient in all. But\nthe preparation for a career presupposes education; and here the material\ninterests and security of the children blend with their intellectual and\nmoral interests.\n\nEverybody recognizes in the education of children two distinct things:\ninstruction and education properly so called: the first has for its object\nthe mind; and the second the character. These two things must not be\nseparated: for, without instruction, all education is powerless; and\nwithout a moral education, instruction may be dangerous.\n\nParents should then--and it is a strict duty--give to their children the\ninstruction their resources and condition allow; but they are not\npermitted to leave them in ignorance if they have the means to educate\nthem. Some narrow minds still believe that instruction is of no use to the\npeople, and is even a dangerous thing. This has been sufficiently refuted.\nThe greatest number of crimes and offenses are committed by the most\nignorant classes: the more they learn, the better will they understand the\nduties of their condition and the dignity of human nature. It has been\njustly said that little knowledge may be more dangerous than ignorance:\nfor this reason should men be raised above the dangerous point, and be put\nin possession of as much knowledge as their condition warrants.\n\nInstruction has two useful effects: first, it increases the resources of a\nman, renders him better qualified for a greater variety of things; it is\nthen, as political economy styles it, a capital. Parents, in having their\nchildren taught, give them thereby a far more substantial and productive\ncapital than what they could transmit to them by gift or legacy. In the\nsecond place, instruction elevates man and ennobles his nature. If it is\nreason that distinguishes man from the brute, knowledge enlarges and\nheightens reason. Instruction thus works together with moral education and\nforms one of its essential parts.\n\nThe head of a family who then, from personal interest, negligence,\nill-will, or, in fine, from ignorance, deprives his children of the\ninstruction which is their due, fails thereby in an essential duty.[79]\n\nIt must, moreover, be admitted, that instruction alone does not suffice;\nscience alone does not form character; persuasion, authority, example, the\nmoral action of every instant is necessary thereto. It is a great problem\nto know how much of fear and gentleness, restraint and liberty should\nenter in paternal education. All agree that a child should not be brought\nup through fear alone, as the animals are. As Fenelon admirably puts it,\n\"Joy and confidence should be the natural state of mind of children;\notherwise their intelligence becomes obscured, their courage droops; if\nthey are lively, fear will irritate them; if soft, it will make them\nstupid; fear is like the violent remedies employed in extreme illnesses:\nthey purge; but they injure the constitution and wear out its organs; a\nsoul led by fear is always the feebler for it.\"\n\nOn the other hand, everybody admits also that an excessive indulgence is\nas dangerous as a despotic authority. Rousseau ingenuously remarks: \"The\nbest means of making your child miserable is to accustom it to obtaining\nall it wants; for its desires will incessantly grow with the facility with\nwhich it can satisfy them; sooner or later the inability to content it,\nwill, despite yourself, oblige you to refuse, and this unexpected denial\nwill give it more pain than the deprivation of the thing itself. First it\nwill want the cane you have in your hand; then your watch; then the bird\nin the air; the bright star in the sky; in short, all that it sees: and\nunless you were a god, how could you satisfy it?\" This remark of Rousseau\nrefers to the earliest childhood, but it can be applied to all ages.\n\nIt is evident that all the duties we have here mentioned relate\nprincipally to the first of the three periods distinguished by Grotius. As\nthe children grow up, their own personal responsibility gradually takes\nthe place of the paternal responsibility, and there comes the time of the\nthird state above mentioned, when both father and mother no longer owe\ntheir children any thing more than love or advice. Instead of being\nanswerable for their existence, it is rather the reverse. It is the\nchildren's turn to become responsible for the happiness and safety of\ntheir parents.\n\nBut, as we have said, the really difficult moment is that when the young\nman, awakening to himself, becomes conscious of a will, and, without\nexperience and sense of proportion, wishes to exercise this will without\nrestraint. It is here especially that the paternal will must show itself\nfirm without despotism, and persuasive without flattery and weakness, and\nwhere it becomes necessary that the paternal authority be firmly rooted in\nthe first age and upon solid foundations, so that the young man, even in\nhis fits of self-will, may submit to this authority with confidence and\nrespect. There is no particular formula which could set forth a rule of\nconduct obligatory under all circumstances. Tact in this case is better\nthan rules.\n\n=127. Duties of children.=--The German philosopher Fichte, in his book on\n_Ethics_, has said some very good things touching the duties of children;\nwe will cite from it some of the pages devoted to this subject.[80]\n\n\"The right of parents to set limits to the liberty of their children\ncannot be questioned. I should respect the liberty of another man, because\nI regard him as a being morally educated, whose liberty is the necessary\nmeans whereby he may reach the end reason points out to him. I cannot be\nhis judge, for he is my equal. But it is not the same in the case of my\nchild. I regard my child not as a moral creature already formed, but to be\nformed; and it is precisely for this reason that it is my duty to educate\nit. The same reason which commands me to respect the liberty of my equals,\ncommands me to limit that of my child.\n\n\"But I am to limit this liberty only in so far as the use the child may\nmake of it might be injurious to the very end of its education. Any other\nrepression is contrary to duty, for it is contrary to the end in view. It\nis the very liberty of the child which must be instructed; and that this\ninstruction be possible, the child must be free. Parents should not,\ntherefore, through mere caprice, forbid children, with a view, as is said,\nto break their will: it is only where the will would run counter to the\ndirect aims of their education that it should be broken. Here, however,\nparents must be the sole judges; and are answerable to their conscience\nalone.\" \"The only duty of the child,\" says Fichte again, \"is _obedience_:\nthis should be developed before any other moral sentiment; for it is the\nroot of all morality. Later on, when in the sphere left free by the\nparents, morality has become possible, the duty of obedience is still the\ngreatest of all duties, the child should not wish to be free beyond the\nlimits fixed by the parents themselves.\"\n\nFichte explains next very ingeniously, how obedience is the only way by\nwhich the child can _imitate_ the morality it cannot yet know: \"The same\nrelation which binds the full-grown man to the moral law, and to its\nauthor, God, binds the child to its parents. We should do all that duty\ncommands us to do, absolutely and without troubling ourselves about\nconsequences; but to be able to do this, we must suppose these\nconsequences to be in the hands of God, and intended for our good: the\nsame with the child in regard to parental commands. Christianity\nrepresents God in the image of a father, and justly so. But we should not\nsimply be satisfied always and incessantly to speak of his goodness; we\nshould also think of our obligations toward him; of our obedience, and\nthat childlike trust free from all anxiety and uneasiness which we ought\nto cultivate in regard to his will. To create a similar obedience is the\nonly means by which parents may implant the sentiment of morality in the\nhearts of their children: it is, therefore, a real duty for parents to\nexercise their children in a similar obedience. It is a very false notion,\nwhich, like many others, we owe to the ruling _eudemonism_[81] of the day,\nthat wrong inclinations of the child can be thwarted by reasoning with it.\nThere is implied in this notion the absurdity of supposing the child to be\npossessed of a greater share of reasoning power than ourselves: for even\nadults are most of the time prompted in their acts by inclination, and not\nby reason.[82]\n\n\"Another question presents itself now: How far, in its relation to its\nparents, should the child's absolute obedience go? This question may have\ntwo sides: the one as to the extent of this obedience, and the other as to\nits limits; _how far_ it should go; or in regard to length of time, _how\nlong_ it shall last, and, if it is to cease at all, at what particular\ntime it is to stop?\n\nIn the first case, the question may be raised either from the child's or\nfrom the parents' standpoint. On the part of the child it should never be\nraised. The answer is this: The child should obey, and its obedience\nconsists in its not wishing to have any more liberty than its parents\npermit it to have. Of the necessary limits of this obedience, the parents\ncan alone judge; the child cannot. The doctrine that the child should obey\nin all reasonable cases, as we often hear it said, is a contradictory one.\nHe who only obeys in reasonable cases does not obey, for he becomes\nhimself then the judge of what is reasonable and what is not. If he does\nany thing suitable because he judges it to be so, he acts according to his\nown conviction, and not from obedience. Whether this obedience which they\nexact be reasonable or not, it is for the parents to answer for it before\ntheir own consciences; but they should not allow their children to sit in\njudgment over them. But, it may be asked, suppose the parents command\ntheir children to do an immoral thing? I answer: Either the immorality of\nit is only discovered after a laborious investigation, or it is obvious.\nIn the first case, there can be no difficulty; for the obedient child does\nnot suspect his parents capable of commanding him to do any wrong. In the\nsecond, the very basis of obedience--namely, the belief in the superior\nmorality of the parents--is destroyed; and then a prolonged obedience\nwould be contrary to duty. The same when the immorality or the shame of\nthe parents is self-evident in the children's eyes. Obedience then ceases\nbecause education through the parents becomes impossible.\n\nThe second question is: How long does the duty of obedience last? The\nanswer to this is: Obedience, in the first place, is only exacted in view\nof education; and education is a means to an end; that end being the\nutilization of the child's powers for some reasonable purpose, under\nwhatever circumstances or through whatever mode. When that end has been\nattained, the child cannot judge: it is for the parents to decide. Now two\ncases are possible here:\n\nOne is where the father himself declares the end attained and leaves his\nchildren free to act according to their own will and judgment.\n\nThe other is where a certain result is sufficient to declare the end\nattained. The State is in this instance a competent outside judge. For\nexample, if the State entrusts an office to a son, it declares the\nlatter's education completed; the judgment of the State is the parents'\njudicial bond: they must submit to it without appeal: it binds them also\nmorally, and they must submit to it from a sense of duty.\n\nThere is finally a third case: this is where parental education is no\nlonger possible, as, for example, on the marriage of the children. The\ndaughter then gives herself to her husband and becomes subject to his\nwill: she can therefore no longer depend upon her parents' will. The son\nassumes the care of his wife, conformably to her wishes; he can therefore\nno longer be guided by others' wishes, not even by those of his parents.\n\nThese three cases do not yet exhaust the question; for we may suppose a\nfourth: the one where the children are not called to a function, by the\nState; when they do not marry, and when the parents are nevertheless\nunwilling to relax their authority, seemingly wishing to uphold the\nobedience of early childhood. In this case, the parents evidently overstep\ntheir rights; for it is obvious that at a given time man must belong to\nhimself. This time has been fixed by the State; which determines when one\nattains to his majority. In granting to a son the free disposal of his\nproperty, the liberty to make contracts, to traffic, the right of\nsuffrage, the right to marry, etc., the State puts an end to paternal\nauthority as an authority armed with restraint, yet certainly not as a\nmoral authority, for in this respect it is indelible. The son having\nbecome a person, and being in his turn invested with moral responsibility,\nmay lay obedience aside, but he does not with this lay aside the respect,\ngratitude, and affection he owes his parents.\n\nEven after the emancipation of the children, there still exists between\nthem and their parents a moral tie.\n\nParents, especially if they have been, as we suppose, the educators of\ntheir children, know their inner being, their disposition: they have seen\nit develop under their eyes; they have formed it. They therefore know it\nbetter than the children themselves can know it. They consequently\ncontinue to be their best advisers. There is then left to parents a\nspecial duty, namely, that of advising their children, and on the part of\nthe children a correlative duty, that of listening attentively to the\nadvice of their parents, and of considering it carefully. Thus do parents\nretain their care and solicitude for their children, and the children the\nduty of respect.\n\nThese duties of respect and gratitude toward parents have been admirably\nexpressed by the ancient writers.\n\n    Plato, after speaking of the honor which should be given to the gods,\n    says: \"Next comes the honor of living parents, to whom, as is meet, we\n    have to pay the first and greatest and oldest of all debts,\n    considering that all which a man has belongs to those who gave him\n    birth and brought him up, and that he must do all that he can to\n    minister to them: first, in his property; secondly, in his person; and\n    thirdly, in his soul; paying the debts due to them for the care and\n    travail which they bestowed upon him of old, in the days of his\n    infancy, and which he is now to pay back to them when they are old and\n    in the extremity of their need. And all his life long he ought never\n    to utter, or to have uttered, an unbecoming word to them; for all\n    light and winged words he will have to give an account; Nemesis, the\n    messenger of justice, is appointed to watch over them. And we ought to\n    yield to our parents when they are angry, and let them satisfy their\n    feelings in word or deed, considering that, when a father thinks that\n    he has been wronged by his son, he may be expected to be very\n    angry.\"[83]\n\nXenophon, likewise, relates to us an admirable exhortation of Socrates to\nhis oldest son Lamprocles, on filial piety. It is well known that the wife\nof Socrates, Xantippe, was noted for her crabbed disposition, which often\nsorely tried Socrates' patience. No doubt this was the case with the sons\nalso; but, less patient than their father, they yielded sometimes to their\nanger. Socrates recalls Lamprocles to his duty as a son, enumerating to\nhim all that mothers have to endure for their children:\n\n    \"The woman receives and bears the burden, oppressing and endangering\n    her life, and imparting a portion of the nutriment with which she is\n    herself supported; and at length, after bearing it the full time, and\n    bringing it forth with great pain, she suckles and cherishes it,\n    though she has received no previous benefit from it, nor does the\n    infant know by whom it is tended, nor is it able to signify what it\n    wants, but she, conjecturing what will nourish and please it, tries to\n    satisfy its calls, and feeds it for a long time, both night and day,\n    submitting to the trouble, and not knowing what return she will\n    receive for it. Nor does it satisfy the parents merely to feed their\n    offspring, but as soon as the children appear capable of learning any\n    thing, they teach them whatever they know that may be of use for their\n    conduct in life; and whenever they consider another more capable of\n    communicating than themselves, they send their sons to him at their\n    own expense, and take care to adopt every course that their children\n    may be as much improved as possible.\"\n\n    Upon this the young man said: \"But, even if she has done all this, no\n    one, assuredly, could endure her ill-humor.\"\n\n    \"And do you reflect,\" returned Socrates, \"how much grievous trouble\n    you have given her by your peevishness, by voice and by action, in the\n    day and in the night, and how much anxiety you have caused her when\n    you were ill?... Or do you suppose your mother meditates evil toward\n    you?\" \"No, indeed,\" said Lamprocles, \"that I do not suppose.\" \"Do you\n    then say that this mother,\" rejoined Socrates, \"who is so benevolent\n    to you, who, when you are ill, takes care of you, to the utmost of her\n    power, that you may recover your health, and who, besides, entreats\n    the gods for many blessings on your head, is a harsh mother? Oh, my\n    son, if you are wise, you will entreat the gods to pardon you if you\n    have been wanting in respect toward your mother, lest, regarding you\n    as an ungrateful person, they should be disinclined to do you good;\n    and you will have regard, also, to the opinion of men, lest, observing\n    you to be neglectful of your parents, they should all contemn you, and\n    you should then be found destitute of friends; for if men surmise that\n    you are ungrateful toward your parents, no one will believe that if he\n    does you a kindness he will meet with gratitude in return.\"[84]\n\nAlthough children, when of age, belong legally to themselves, there are\nyet two serious circumstances, where they should exhaust all the forms of\nrespect and submission before they make a harsh use of the rights which\nthe law grants them: these are marriage, and the choice of a profession.\nIn the first case, both the law and morality require the consent of the\nparents; and it is only as a last extremity, and after three respectful\nappeals to them, that proceedings may go on. Here again, although the law\npermits it, it may be said that, except in extreme and exceptional cases,\nit is always better not to proceed, but wait till some change of\ncircumstances brings about a change in the mind of the parents. In fact,\nthe parents' resistance in these cases is generally in the interest of the\nchildren; they wish to protect them against the impulses of their\npassions. They have, besides, a sort of right to interdict the admission\ninto the family and the taking of its name to any one that might be\nunworthy of these favors.\n\nThe obligation not to marry without the consent of the parents (except in\nextreme cases) does not carry with it the obligation of marrying against\none's will in order to obey them. This would be the violation of a duty\ntoward others; you have no right to jeopardize the happiness of a third\nparty, that you might on your side practice the duty of obedience. To\nmarry with repugnance is contrary to duty, for it is entering into the\nbonds of an unhappy union.\n\nAs to the choice of a profession, the obligation to conform to the desires\nand the will of the parents is less strict than in marriage; and it is\nobvious that the first, the stricter duty here, is to choose the\nprofession one is best fitted for. But as there is here also, on the side\nof the children, much inexperience (as among the various professions there\nare some very difficult, even dangerous ones, where success is often very\nrare, and which for this reason are all the more tempting), it is clear\nthat in such a case it is the children's duty, except where there is an\nirresistible proclivity, to allow themselves to be guided by a more\nenlightened and more prudent experience. At any rate, the strict duty is\nto confer with the parents, consult their superior wisdom, and delay as\nmuch as possible a final resolve. These principles once set down, it is\ncertain that, on the other hand, one should not, to obey one's parents,\nfollow a profession one felt no capacity for whatsoever. There the duties\ntoward society and toward one's self take precedence of the family duties.\n\n=128. Fraternal duties.=--Socrates, who has spoken so well of the duties of\nhusbands and wives and the duties of children, shall here again be our\nguide as to the duties of brothers and sisters. Two brothers, Chaesephon\nand Chaesecrates, did not live well together. Socrates tried to reconcile\nthem with each other by an exhortation, of which the following gives the\nprincipal points:[85]\n\n1. Brothers are better than riches; for they are things endowed with\nreason, whilst wealth is but a senseless thing; brothers are a protection;\nriches, on the contrary, need protection.\n\n2. One had rather live with fellow-citizens than live alone; how much more\nwould one not rather live with brothers.\n\n3. Is not the being born of the same parents, the having been brought up\ntogether, very strong reasons to love one another? Even among brutes a\ncertain affection springs up between those that are raised together.\n\n4. Even though our brothers be of dispositions difficult to live with, we\nshould make advances to bring them nearer to us.\n\n5. It is for the youngest to make advances to the oldest.\n\nA modern moralist, Silvio Pellico,[86] expresses most delicately the\nduties of brothers and sisters in their intercourse with each other:\n\n\"To practice properly, in one's relations with men, the divine science of\ncharity, one must have learned it at home. What ineffable sweetness is\nthere in the thought: 'We are the children of the same mother!...' If you\nwish to be a good brother, beware of selfishness. Let each of your\nbrothers, each of your sisters, see that their interests are as dear to\nyou as your own. If one of them commits a fault, be indulgent to it.\nRejoice over their virtues; imitate them.\"\n\n\"The familiarity of the fireside should never make you forget to be\ncourteous toward your brothers.\n\n\"Be still more courteous toward your sisters. Their sex is endowed with a\npowerful attraction; it is a divine gift which they use to make the house\npleasant and cheerful. You will find in your sisters the delicious charm\nof womanly virtues; and since nature has made them more feeble and\nsensitive than you, be attentive to them in their troubles, console them,\nand do not cause them any unnecessary pain.\n\n\"Those who contract the habit of being ill-natured and rude toward their\nbrothers and sisters, are rude and ill-natured toward everybody else. If\nthe home-intercourse is tender and true, man will experience in his other\nsocial relations the same need of esteem and noble affections.\"\n\n=129. Duties of masters toward their servants.=--One of the most important\nfunctions of home administration, is the management of domestics. It\ncomprises two things: _choice_ and _direction_. It is well known how\nimportant in a household the choice of servants is; as it is they who\nattend to the marketing and pay the bills, so that the finances of the\nhouse are, to some extent, in their hands.[87] But this is but one of the\nlesser features of the influence of servants in a household; the most\nserious one is their familiar intercourse with the children; and it is\nthere especially that it becomes necessary to make sure of their fidelity\nand honesty. Yet to make a careful and successful choice is of no use, if\none is ignorant of the art of directing and governing, which consists in a\njust medium between too much lenity and too much severity. The master of\nthe house should, of course, always have his eyes open, but he should also\nknow that no human being learns to do things well, if he is not allowed to\nact with some sort of freedom.\n\n_Surveillance_ and _confidence_ are the two principles of a wise domestic\ngovernment. Without the first, one is apt to be cheated; without the\nsecond, one cheats one's self in depriving the servant of the most\nenergetic elements of human will, responsibility and honor.[88]\n\nThe master, again, should avoid being violent and brutal toward his\nservants. He should require of them all that is just, yet without pushing\nhis requirements to the point of persecution. Many persons deprive\nthemselves of good servants, because they cannot patiently bear with the\ninevitable defects inherent in human nature.\n\nOn the other hand, the servant owes his master: 1, an absolute honesty. As\nit is the servants who do the marketing and pay the bills, they have the\nfunds of the family in their hands. The more one is obliged to trust them\nthe more are they bound to restrain themselves from the slightest act of\ndishonesty. 2. They owe obedience and exactness in the duties pertaining\nto their service. 3. They should, as much as possible, attach themselves\nto the persons whose service they have entered; the longer they stay with\nthem, the more will they be considered as part of the family, and the\ngreater will be their right to the regard and affection due to age and\nfidelity.\n\n=130. Duties of children toward servants.=--It is not only the master and\nmistress of the house that have duties to fulfill toward servants, but the\nchildren also. The latter are, in general, too much disposed to treat\nservants as instruments of their wishes and the playthings of their\ncaprices. Although slavery is no longer allowed, some children, if let\nalone, would very soon re-establish it for their own benefit. To command,\ninsult, beat, are the not uncommon modes of procedure with children that\nare left entirely free in their relations with inferiors. The latter, on\nthe other hand, do not hesitate to employ force, in the absence of the\nmasters, and pass readily from slavery to tyranny. All such conduct is\nreprehensible. The servant should never be allowed to strike; but he\nshould himself not be struck or insulted. In childhood, it is for the\nparents to oversee the relations between their servants and children.\nLater it is for the children themselves, when they have reached the age of\nreason, to know that they must not treat servants like brutes. The same\nobservations may be applied to workmen, in circumstances where workmen are\nin some respect in the service of the family.\n\nAlthough servants are no longer slaves, nor even serfs, one may still,\nmodifying its meaning, quote Seneca's admirable protestation against\nslavery: \"They are slaves! rather say they are men! They are slaves! Not\nany more than thou! He whom thou callest a slave, was born of the same\nseed as thyself; he enjoys the same sky, breathes the same air, lives and\ndies the same as thou.\" Seneca closes this eloquent apostrophe with a\nmaxim recalling the Gospel: \"Live with thy inferiors, as thou wouldst thy\nsuperior should live with thee.\"\n\nAs to the duties of servants to their masters, they belong to the class of\nprofessional duties which we shall take up further on (Chap. XIII.).\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nDUTIES TOWARD ONE'S SELF--DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE BODY.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =Have we duties toward ourselves?=--The person of a man should not only\n    be sacred to others, it also should be so to himself.\n\n    Even though man ceased to be in any relation with other men (as, for\n    example, in a desert island), he would still have duties to perform.\n\n    =The duty of self-preservation.--Suicide.=--Arguments of Rousseau for\n    and against suicide.\n\n    The different standpoints from which one may condemn suicide: 1,\n    either as contrary to the duties toward men; 2, or to the duties\n    toward God; 3, or, lastly, to the duties toward ourselves.\n\n    Kant's fundamental argument against suicide:\n\n    \"Man cannot abdicate his personality as long as he has duties to\n    perform, which is the same as to say, as long as he lives.\"\n\n    Case of conscience.--Not to confound suicide with self-sacrifice.\n\n    Of voluntary mutilations and of the duty to avoid injuring one's\n    health. That this duty should be understood in a wide sense, and not\n    as an encouragement to constant preoccupation about the condition of\n    one's body.\n\n    Of cleanliness.\n\n    =Other duties concerning the body.--Temperance.=--Temperance\n    recommended for two reasons: 1, as necessary to health, and\n    consequently as a corollary to the duty of self-preservation; 2, as\n    necessary to human dignity, which, through intemperance, falls below\n    the brute.\n\n    Of the moderate use of sensual pleasures. That we should elevate them\n    by attaching to them ideas and sentiments.\n\n    Other virtues: Decency, modesty, propriety, etc.\n\n\n=131. Have we duties toward ourselves?=--This has been disputed, and it\nseems rather strange that it should have been. No one, say the jurists,\nbinds himself to himself; no one does himself injustice, they say again.\nIn short, man belongs to himself: is not that the first of ownerships, and\nthe basis of all the others?\n\n    \"No,\" replies Victor Cousin, \"from man's being free and belonging to\n    himself, it is not to be concluded that he has all power over himself.\n    From the fact alone that he is endowed with both liberty and\n    intelligence, I, on the contrary, conclude that he cannot, without\n    failing in his duty, degrade his liberty any more than he can degrade\n    his intelligence. Liberty is not only sacred to others; it is so in\n    itself.\n\n    \"This obligation imposed on the moral personality to respect itself,\n    it is not I who established it; I cannot, therefore, destroy it. Is\n    the respect I have for myself founded on one of those arbitrary\n    agreements which cease to be when the two parties freely renounce it?\n    Are the two contracting parties here I and myself? No; there is one of\n    the parties that is not I, namely, humanity itself, the moral\n    personality, the human essence which does not belong to me, which is\n    not my property, which I can no more degrade or wound in myself than I\n    can in others. There is not even any agreement here or contract.\n\n    \"Finally, man would still have duties, even though he ceased to be in\n    any relation with other men. As long as he has any intelligence and\n    liberty left, the idea of right remains in him, and with that idea,\n    duty. If he were all at once thrown upon a desert island, duty would\n    still follow him there.\"[89]\n\nKant has likewise defended the existence of the duties of man toward\nhimself.\n\n    \"Supposing,\" he says, \"that there were no duties of this kind, there\n    would not be any duties then of any kind; for I can only think myself\n    under obligations to others, so far as I am under obligations to\n    myself.... Thus do people say, when the question is to save a man or\n    his life: I owe this to myself; I owe it to myself to cultivate such\n    dispositions of mind as make of me a fit member of society (_Doctrine\n    de la vertu_, trad. franc. de Barni, p. 70).\"\n\n=132. Duties concerning the body.--Duty of self-preservation.=--The duties\ntoward one's self are generally divided into two classes: duties _toward\nthe body_, duties _toward the soul_. Kant justly criticised this\ndistinction, and asks how can there be any obligations toward the\nbody--that is to say, toward a mass of matter--which, apart from the soul,\nis nothing better than any of the rough bodies which surround us. Kant\nproposes to substitute for this distinction the following: duties of man\ntoward himself as an _animal_ (that is, united to animality by the\ncorporeal functions), and the duties of man toward himself as a _moral\nbeing_.\n\nConsidered as an animal, man is united to a body, and this union of soul\nand body is what is called life. Hence a first duty which may be\nconsidered a fundamental duty, and the basis of all the others, namely,\nthe duty of self-preservation. It is, in fact, obvious that the\nfulfillment of all our other duties rests on this prior one.\n\nBefore being a duty, self-preservation is for man an instinct, and even so\nenergetic and so universal an instinct that there would seem to be very\nlittle need to transform it into duty: so much so is it an instinct that\nman has rather to combat in himself the cowardly tendency which attaches\nhim to life, than that which induces him to seek death. Yet does it\nhappen, and unfortunately too often, that men, crazed by despair, come to\nbelieve that they have a right to free themselves of life: this is what is\ncalled suicide. It is, therefore, very important in morals to combat this\nfatal idea, and to teach men that, even though life ceases to be a\npleasure, there is still a moral obligation which they cannot escape.\n\n=133. Suicide.--J. J. Rousseau and Kant.=--The question of suicide was\ntreated with great ability by J. J. Rousseau in one of his most celebrated\nworks. He put into the mouth of two personages, on the one side, the\napology for, and on the other, the condemnation of suicide. We will not\ncite here these two pieces, the eloquence of which is somewhat\ndeclamatory, but we will give an abstract of the principal arguments\npresented on each side in favor of its own position.\n\n_Arguments in favor of suicide._--1. It is said that life is not our own\nbecause it was given us.--Not so, for, just because it was given us, is it\nour own. God has given us arms, and yet we allow them to be cut off when\nnecessary.\n\n2. Man, it is said, is a soldier on sentry on earth: he should not leave\nhis post without orders.--So be it; but misfortune is precisely that order\nwhich informs me that I have nothing more to do here below.\n\n3. Suicide, it is said again, is rebellion against Providence.--But how?\nit is not to escape its laws one puts an end to one's life; it is to\nexecute them the better: in whatever place the soul may be, it will always\nbe under God's government.\n\n4. \"If thy slave attempted to kill himself,\" says Socrates to Cebes in the\n_Phaedo_, \"wouldst thou not punish him for trying unjustly to deprive thee\nof thy property?\"--Good Socrates, what sayest thou? Does one no longer\nbelong to God when dead? Thou art quite wrong; thou shouldst have said:\n\"If thou puttest on thy slave a garment which is in his way in the service\nhe owes thee, wouldst thou punish him for laying this garment aside in\norder the better to serve thee?\"\n\n5. It is said that life is never an evil.--Yet has nature implanted in us\nso great a horror of death that life to certain beings must surely be an\nevil, since they resolve to renounce it.\n\n6. It is said that suicide is a cowardice.--How many cowards, then, among\nthe ancients! Arria, Eponina, Lucretia, Brutus, Cato! Certainly there is\ncourage in suffering the evils one cannot avoid; but it were insanity to\nsuffer voluntarily those from which one can free himself.\n\n7. There are unquestionably duties that should attach us to life.--But he\nwho is a burden to every one, and of no use to himself, why should he not\nhave a right to quit a place where his complaints are importunate and his\nsufferings useless?\n\n8. Why should it be allowable to get cured of the gout and not of life? If\nwe consider the will of God, what evil is there for us to combat, that he\nhas not himself sent us? Are we not permitted, then, to change the nature\nof any thing because all that is, is as he wished it?\n\n9. \"Thou shall not kill,\" says the Decalogue.--But if this commandment is\nto be taken literally, one should kill neither criminals nor enemies.\n\nNext comes the answer of my lord Edward, namely, J. J. Rousseau:\n\n_Arguments against suicide._--1. If life has no moral end, one can\nunquestionably free one's self from it when it is too painful: if it has\none, it is not permitted to set it arbitrary limits.\n\n2. The wish to die does not constitute a right to die; otherwise, a\nsimilar wish might justify all crimes.\n\n3. Thou sayest: Life is an evil; but if thou hast the courage to bear it,\nthou wilt some day say: Life is a good.\n\n4. Physical pain may in extreme cases deprive one of the use of reason and\nwill; but moral pain should be borne bravely.\n\n5. No man is wholly useless; he has always some duties to fulfill.\n\nIt has been justly observed, we think, that this second letter is feebler\nthan the first, and that Rousseau displayed more talent in justifying\nsuicide than in combating it; at any rate, the following peroration will\nalways be considered an admirable passage to quote:\n\n\"Listen to me, thou foolish youth: thou art dear to me, I pity thy errors.\nIf thou hast at the bottom of thy heart the least feeling of virtue left,\ncome to me, let me teach thee to love life. Every time thou shalt be\ntempted to put an end to it, say to thyself: 'Let me do one more good deed\nbefore I die!' Then go and seek some poverty to relieve, some misfortune\nto console, some oppressed wretch to protect. If this contemplation does\nnot stop thee to-day, it will stop thee to-morrow, or the day after, or\nperhaps for the rest of thy life. If it does not stop thee, go then and\ndie; for thou art not worthy to live.\"\n\nSuicide may be considered from three different standpoints, which are all\nthree involved and blended in the preceding discussion:\n\n1. Suicide is a transgression of our duty toward other men (inasmuch as,\nhowever miserable, one can always render some service to others).\n\n2. Suicide is contrary to our duties toward God (inasmuch as man abandons\nthereby, without being relieved of it, the post intrusted to him in this\nworld).\n\n3. Finally--and this is for us here the essential point--suicide is a\nviolation of the duty of man toward himself; as, all other considerations\nset aside, he is bound to self-preservation as a moral personality, and\nhas no right whatsoever upon himself.\n\n_Kant's discussion._--Kant is, of all philosophers, the one who most\ninsisted on this latter view of the matter, and developed it with the\ngreatest force.\n\n    \"It seems absurd,\" he says, \"that man could do himself injury.\"\n    (_Volenti non fit injuria._[90]) Thus did the stoic regard it as a\n    prerogative of the sage, to be able, quietly and of his own free will,\n    to step out of this life as he would out of a room full of smoke. But\n    this very courage, this strength of soul which enables us to brave\n    death, revealing to us a something man prizes more than life, should\n    have been to him [the stoic] all the greater incentive not to destroy\n    in himself a being endowed with a faculty so great, so superior to all\n    the most powerful of sensuous motives, and consequently not to deprive\n    himself of life.\n\n    Man cannot abdicate his personality as long as there are duties for\n    him, consequently as long as he lives; and there is contradiction in\n    granting him the right of freeing himself from all obligation--that is\n    to say, acting as freely as if he had no need of any kind of\n    permission. To annihilate in one's own person the subject of morality,\n    is to extirpate from the world as much as possible the existence of\n    morality itself; it is disposing of one's self as of an instrument,\n    for a simply arbitrary end; it is lowering humanity in one's own\n    person.\n\n=134. Resume of the discussion on suicide.=--From the above point of view\nthe sophisms of Saint-Preux in J. J. Rousseau are easily controverted. I\ncan cut my arm off, you say; why can I not destroy my body?--But in\ndestroying a withered or mortified arm, I nowise injure the human\npersonality, which remains within me entire; and, on the contrary, I\ndeliver the moral personality within me of a physical trouble which\ndeprives it of its liberty.\n\nI can, you say, avoid pain: no one is obliged to bear a toothache, if he\ncan free himself from it.--Yes, unquestionably; but in finding a remedy\nfor physical pain, instead of wronging the moral personality of man, I\nfree it, on the contrary, of the evils which, in crushing it, tend to\ndebase it. Besides, there are, moreover, pains from which it is not right\nto free one's self. For example, it is not right to leave the sickbed of\none dear to us because his pains are unbearable.\n\nBut life is full of misery, and, in certain cases, the evil is without any\ncompensation.--The question is not whether life is agreeable or painful:\nit might be a question, if pleasure were the end of life; but if this end\nis duty, there are no circumstances, however painful, which do not leave\nroom for the possibility of fulfilling a duty.\n\nIt is a sophism, they say, to call suicide a cowardice; for it requires a\ngreat deal of courage to take one's life.--No one denies that there is a\ncertain amount of physical courage coupled with taking one's life; but\nthere is a still greater courage, a moral courage, in braving pain,\npoverty, slavery. Suicide is therefore a relative cowardice. It matters\nnot, moreover, whether suicide be a brave or a cowardly act; what is\ncertain is, that man cannot destroy within himself the agent subject to\nthe law of duty without implicitly denying this law and all there is\nwithin contained.\n\nFinally, it will be said that the moral personality is distinct from the\nbody, and that in destroying the body, one does not injure the\npersonality. But we shall answer, that the only personality of which we\ncan dispose, and of which we have the care, is that which is actually\nunited to our physical body. It is that very personality that has duties\nto perform; it is that which we cannot sacrifice to a state of things\nabsolutely unknown to us.\n\nAs to our duties toward others, there is no one that has absolutely no\nservice to render to his fellow-men; and each of us is always able to\nrender them the greatest of services, namely, to give them the example of\nvirtue, courage, gentleness, and patience. Finally, in respect to God, if\nwe look upon life as a trial, man has no right to free himself of this\ntrial before it is ended; if we look upon it as a punishment, we have no\nright to cut short its duration as long as nature has not pronounced on\nit. Can we not, then, it is asked, change any thing in the order of\nthings, since all is disposed by God?--Certainly we can; we can, as we see\nfit, modify things, but not persons.\n\nGod, it is said again, has given us life: we can, then, do with it what we\nlike.--But life is not purely a gift, an absolute gift: it is bound up in\nthe moral personality which is not in our power, and which is not to be\nconsidered a thing to traffic with, give away, or destroy.\n\nTo admit the legitimacy of suicide, is to admit that man belongs to\nhimself as a _thing_ belongs to its master; it is implicitly to admit the\nright to traffic with one's own personality and, according to Kant's\nenergetic expression, \"to treat one's self as a means and not as an end.\"\n\n=135. Suicide from a sense of honor.=--All suicide, having for its motive\nthe escape from pain (exception being made, of course, of suicides caused\nby insanity), should be condemned without qualification. But is it the\nsame with suicides instigated by a feeling of honor, either to avoid an\noutrage one is threatened with, or to escape the shame of an outrage one\nhas suffered?\n\nWe should certainly not blame too severely acts that have their source in\npurity and greatness of soul, and in such matters it is yet better to\nforgive the excess, than accustom one's mind, by too cold reasoning, to\nlook upon dishonor with patience or complacency. After all, the love of\nlife speaks enough for itself without its being necessary to give it too\nmuch encouragement. Nevertheless, to consider the matter closely, it is\ncertain that no one is responsible for acts he has not consented to; that,\nconsequently, an act imposed on us by force, cannot inflict real dishonor;\nthat ill-natured interpretations should have no weight with a strong mind,\nand that conscience is the only judge.\n\n\"We should,\" says St. Augustin, speaking of Lucretia's suicide, \"resist\nthe temptation of suicide when we have no crime to atone for.... Why\nshould a man who has done no harm to another, do some to himself? Is he\njustified in killing an innocent man in his own person, to prevent the\nreal criminal from perpetrating his design, and would he criminally cut\nshort his own life for fear it be cut short by another?\"[91]\n\nWith still greater reason will suicide be condemned in cases where shame,\nif there is any, can make reparation. Let us, for example, suppose the\ncase of a merchant obliged to suspend payments. This suspension may be\ncaused by overwhelming circumstances, as, for example, unforeseen physical\ncatastrophes, or negligence, imprudence, or even dishonesty on the part of\nthe merchant. In the first case, the merchant is obviously innocent,[92]\nand, as we have already remarked, it is an outward and not a real shame.\nInstead of giving way before a misfortune, he should, on the contrary,\nstrive against it and find in himself the means to repair the damage. If,\non the contrary, it is through his own fault, through dissipation,\nlaziness, etc., that the trouble was brought about, he is all the more\nobliged to make honorable amends, and by his courage and energy\nrehabilitate himself. If, finally, the evil is still graver, if he failed\nthrough lack of honor, he owes it to himself to expiate his fault, for in\ntrying by suicide to escape a merited shame, he only eschews a\nwell-deserved punishment.\n\nModern conscience refuses even to admire without reserve, the noblest and\nmost generous of suicides, those, namely, occasioned by the grief over a\ngreat cause lost: I mean Cato's suicide. The capital error of this kind of\nsuicides (laying aside the reasons already pointed out), is to think that\na cause can be lost. On the one hand, there is never any reason strong\nenough to persuade any one that what is lost to-day, is definitively lost;\nand if each of those who belong to that cause should kill himself, he\nwould only contribute his share toward the loss of that cause. Besides,\neven supposing a cause to be definitively and absolutely lost, the honor\nof humanity requires none the less that the cause be faithfully and\ninviolably represented to the end by its adherents: for if they do not\nserve thereby their own cause, they serve at least that of loyalty,\nfidelity, and honor, which is the highest of all. Certainly an act as\nimpressive as was Cato's, shows how far man can carry the devotion to a\ncreed, and such heroism elevates the soul: thus may we admire it as an\nindividual act, but not as an example to be followed. For, although it\npresents itself to us under a heroic form, it is, after all, nothing but\nan escape from responsibility.\n\n=136. Suicide and sacrifice.=--One should not confound with suicide, the\nvoluntary death--that is to say, the death dared and even sought after for\nthe sake of humanity, the family, country, truth. For instance, Eustache\nde Saint Pierre and his companions, Curtius, d'Assas, voluntarily sought\nor accepted death when they could have avoided it. Are these suicides? If\nwe carried the matter as far as that, all devotion would have to be\nsuppressed altogether. For the height of devotion is to brave death; and\none would have to condemn even the man who exposes himself to a simple\nperil, since he has no assurance that this peril may not lead him to\ndeath. But it is evident that the suicide deserving condemnation is that\nwhich has for its source either selfishness, or fear, or a false sense of\nhonor. To carry the subject further would be sacrificing other more\nimportant duties, and giving to selfishness itself the appearance and\nprestige of virtue.\n\n=137. Mutilations and mortifications.--Care of one's health.=--One of the\nobvious consequences of the duty of self-preservation, is to avoid\nvoluntary mutilations. For example, those who mutilate themselves to\nescape military service, fail first in their duty to their country, and\nnext in their duty to themselves. For, the body being the instrument of\nthe soul, it is forbidden to destroy any part of it without necessity.\nThis is partial suicide.\n\nMust we count among the number of voluntary mutilations, the religious\nmortifications or macerations by which the devout manifest their piety? If\nit can be proved that such practices are injurious to health, it is\ncertain that they should be condemned from a moral point of view. But if\nthey are nothing more than self-imposed privations of pleasure, no one can\ndisapprove of them. For man is always permitted to give up this or that\npleasure. Thus abstention from animal-flesh which the school of Pythagoras\ntaught its adepts, can not be considered contrary to the duty of\nself-preservation, as long as it cannot be demonstrated that this diet is\nunfavorable to health.\n\nBesides, this duty not to injure one's health, must itself be understood\nin a large and general sense. Otherwise, taken too strictly, it would\nbecome a narrow and selfish preoccupation, unworthy of man. One should\nselect and regularly observe such diet as, from general or personal\nexperience, would seem most suitable to the preservation of health; but,\nthis principle once established, precautions too minute and circumspect\nlower man in the estimation of others, and, if nothing more, give him a\ntinge of the ridiculous, which he ought to avoid. One should therefore not\ntake as a model the Italian Cornaro, who had a pair of scales at his meals\nto weigh his food and drink, although this method, it is said, prolonged\nhis life to a hundred years. The learned Kant himself, although he was\nvery high-minded, carried the rules he had laid down for his health to\nextravagant minuteness. For example, in order to spare his chest, he had\nmade it a rule, never to breathe through his mouth when in the street,\nand, to faithfully observe this rule, he always walked alone, so as not to\nbe obliged to speak. Care carried to such minute details falls into a sort\nof littleness very unbecoming a being destined for higher thoughts than\nmere physical self-preservation. One may say of such exaggerated prudence\nwhat Rousseau, though most inappropriately, said of medicine: \"It prevents\nillness less than it inspires us with the fear of it; it does not so much\nward off death as it gives us beforehand a taste of it; it wears life out\ninstead of prolonging it; and even if it did prolong it, it would still be\nto the prejudice of the race, since it takes us away from society by the\ncares it lays upon us, and from our duties by the fear it inspires us\nwith.\"[93]\n\nBut, if too minute attention to health is not to be recommended, one\ncannot be too observant, within a reasonable measure, of course, of the\nobligation to follow a sensible and moderate diet, which is as favorable\nto the mind as it is to the body. Hygiene, in this respect, forms no\ninconsiderable part of morals.\n\nTo avoid sitting up late; to avoid too long or too rich repasts; to make\nan even distribution of one's time; to get up early; to dress moderately\nwarm: are measures recommended by prudence; this, however, does not\nexclude the liberty of doing away with these rules when more important\nones are necessary. The principle consists in not granting the body too\nmuch, which is the best means of strengthening it.\n\nThe ancients attached a vast importance to the strength and beauty of the\nbody; and for this reason they encouraged gymnastics; these were an\nessential part of their education. This taste for physical exercise seems\nto be reviving at the present day; it enters more and more into our public\neducation, and its good results are already felt. Men should, as much as\npossible, reserve some time and leisure for such exercises; for they not\nonly impart strength, health, and skill to the body, but they accustom the\nsoul to courage, preparing it by degrees to encounter more serious perils;\nthe same may be said of military exercises.\n\n=138. Cleanliness.=--Among the virtues belonging to the duty of\nself-preservation, there is one which a philosopher of the XVIII. century\nconsidered the first and the mother of all the others, namely,\n_cleanliness_. This is saying much; and it may be thought that Volney, in\nhis moral catechism, exaggerated somewhat this virtue. It is, however, one\nof very great importance, for its opposite is especially repugnant.\nCleanliness, moreover, in addition to the part it plays, as we know, in\nthe preservation of health, is often indicative of other virtues of a\nhigher order. Cleanliness presupposes order, a certain delicacy of habits,\na certain dignity; it is really the first condition of civilization;\nwherever we meet with it, it announces that higher wants than those of\nmere animality have been or are soon to be felt; wherever it is wanting,\nwe may be certain that civilization is only apparent, and that it has yet\nmany deficiencies to supply.\n\n=139. Other duties in regard to the body.--Temperance.=--We have just seen\nthat man has no right to destroy his body, or mutilate it, or, in short,\nuselessly to reduce or enfeeble its power; in a word, he must not\nvoluntarily injure his physical functions: for, in impairing himself as a\nphysical being, he thereby injures his personality, which is the principle\nof all morality. But there are two things to be distinguished in the\nfunctions of the human body: on one side, their utility, and on the other,\nthe pleasure which attends their healthful exercise. The same function may\nbe exercised with more or less pleasure on the side of the senses. Hence a\nmoral problem: What is to be granted to the pleasures of the\nsenses?--Certainly for the proper exercise of their functions a certain\nsensuous agreeableness is necessary; a good appetite, for instance, is a\npleasant seasoning which excites and facilitates digestion. Nevertheless,\nwe all know that there is not an exact and continued proportion between\nthe pleasure of the senses and physiological necessity; we know that\nenjoyment may by far exceed necessity, and that health even often requires\na certain limitation in enjoyment.\n\nWe know, for example, that the pleasures of the palate may be far more\nsought after and prolonged than is necessary for the gratification of the\nappetite. Man needs very little to live on; but he can continue to tickle\nhis palate long after his hunger is satisfied. Thirst, in particular, has\ngiven rise to a multitude of refinements invented by human industry, and\nwhich are but very distantly related to the principle which has given them\nbirth. Wine and alcoholic drinks, which, used in moderation, may be useful\ntonics, are stimulants demanding a constant renewal: the more they are\nindulged in, the more they provoke and captivate the imagination.\n\nFrom this disproportion and incongruity which exist between the pleasures\nof the senses and the real wants of the body, arise vices, certain habits,\nnamely, which sacrifice want to pleasure, and the consequence of which is\nthe depravation and ruin of the natural functions. Pleasure, in fact, is,\nin a certain measure, the auxiliary, and in some sort, the interpreter of\nnature; but beyond a certain limit, it can only satiate itself at the\nexpense of the legitimate function, and by solidarity, at the expense of\nall the others. Thus too much eating destroys the digestive functions;\nstimulating drinks burn the stomach and seriously injure the nervous\nsystem. The same, and with still graver consequences, attends upon the\npleasures attached to the function of reproduction.\n\n    \"Who would,\" says Bossuet, \"dare think of other excesses which reveal\n    themselves in a still more dangerous manner? Who, I say, would dare\n    speak of them, or dare think of them, since they cannot be spoken of\n    without shame nor thought of without peril, though it be but to\n    condemn them? O God, once more, who would dare speak of this deep and\n    shameful plague of nature, this concupiscence which binds the soul to\n    the body with bonds so tender and so violent--bonds man can scarcely\n    defend himself against, and which cause such frightful disorders\n    among the human race! Woe to the earth! woe to the earth, from whose\n    secret passions rise continually vapors so thick and black, concealing\n    from us both sky and light, but of which we are reminded through the\n    lightnings and thunder-bolts they send forth against the corruption of\n    the human race!\"[94]\n\nThe abuse of the pleasures of the senses is in general called\n_intemperance_, and the proper use of these pleasures, _temperance_.\nGormandizing is the abuse of the pleasures of eating; intoxication or\ndrunkenness, the abuse of the pleasures of drinking; immodesty or lust,\nthe abuse of the pleasures attached to the reproduction of the species.\nThe opposites of these three vices are, to the first two, _sobriety_, to\nthe last, _chastity_.\n\nThe duty of temperance is enforced by two considerations: 1, intemperance\nbeing, as experience shows, the ruination of health, is thereby contrary\nto the duty of self-preservation; 2, intemperance destroying the\nintellectual faculties, and making us unfit for any energetic and manly\naction, is contrary to the duty imposed on us to respect our moral\nfaculties and protect against all injury within us the free personality\nwhich constitutes the essence of humanity.\n\nKant does not admit that the first of these considerations--that, namely,\nwhich is deduced from the interest of our health--has any validity in\nmorals: \"Vice,\" he says, \"should not be judged from the damage it does to\nman, for to resist it would then be resisting it for reasons of comfort\nand commodity, which could never be a principle to found a duty on, but\nonly a measure of prudence.\" This is true; but if we have in the foregoing\npages established that self-preservation is one of man's duties, that he\nshould not destroy his health or abridge his life, an evident corollary of\nthis principle is to avoid intemperance, because intemperance abridges\nlife. This consideration is then as legitimate from the standpoint of\nmorality as from that of interest.\n\nThe ancients have spoken admirably about temperance. Socrates in\nparticular, in Xenophon's _Memorabilia_, showed clearly that temperance\nmakes of man a free man, and intemperance, a brute and a slave.\n\n    \"Tell me, Eutydemus, thinkest thou not that liberty is a precious and\n    honorable thing for an individual and for a State?--It is the most\n    precious of all.--Thinkest thou him then who allows himself to be\n    overruled by the pleasures of the body, and thereby disabled from\n    doing good, a free man?--Not the least.--Perhaps callest thou liberty\n    the power to do good, and servitude the being prevented from it by\n    obstacles.--Precisely.--The intemperate then appear to thee as\n    slaves?--Yes, by Jupiter, and rightly so.--What thinkest thou of\n    masters who hinder the doing good, and oblige one to do wrong.--It is,\n    by Jupiter, the worst possible kind.--And which is the worst of\n    servitudes?--To my mind that which subjects us to the worst\n    masters.--Then is intemperance the worst of servitudes?--So I think.\"\n\nPlato, on his side, in a charming picture brings out with force the\ninsatiableness of sensual passions:\n\n    \"See,\" says Socrates, \"if the temperate man and the disorderly man are\n    not like two men having each a large number of casks: the casks of the\n    one are in good condition and full, one with wine, another with honey,\n    a third with milk, and others with other liquors; these liquors,\n    moreover, are rare and hard to get; they cost infinite trouble to\n    obtain; their owner having once filled his barrels, pours henceforth\n    nothing more into them; he has no longer any anxiety concerning them,\n    and is perfectly at ease. The other can, it is true, procure the same\n    liquors, but only with difficulty; his casks, moreover, being leaky\n    and rotten, he is obliged to fill them constantly, day and night, lest\n    he be devoured by burning pains. This picture being an image of both\n    lives, canst thou say that that of the libertine is happier than that\n    of the temperate man?\"\n\nA second consideration which may be added to the preceding one is, that\nthe intemperate man, seeking pleasure, does not find it; pleasure\npassionately pursued changes even into pain: \"Intemperance,\" says\nMontaigne, \"is the pest of voluptuousness, whilst temperance is its\nseasoning.\" This view of the matter is especially that in which the\nepicurean moralists delight; they always, in morals, compare one pleasure\nwith another; but it also holds good for those who place duty above\npleasure, for it is likewise a duty to prefer a pure, simple, delicate\npleasure, to a violent, disorderly, or vulgar pleasure. From this\nstandpoint, we may say with Plato, in his Philebus, that the purest\npleasures are not the strongest, and even that the stronger and more\nardent a pleasure may be, the nearer it approaches a change into pain.\nNow, all other duty set aside, one should principally seek the pleasures\nwhich are not mixed with pain, because they are the most natural and the\nmost legitimate of all: thus is it that the pleasure we derive from a\nsatisfied appetite is a proper pleasure, however humble it be, whilst the\npleasure which carries with it satiety and disgust, indicates by that very\nfact, that it is against nature, or at least goes beyond nature. Virtue\nrequires, then, that we prefer the first to the second.\n\n=140. The pleasures of the senses.=--But provided one is content with\nmoderate pleasures, is it allowed to enjoy the pleasures of the senses, or\nmust we rather turn our mind, will, and soul, from them, and rest content\nwith the satisfied want? Montaigne, that naive child of nature, supports\nthe first proposition; Saint Augustine, the apostle of free grace,\nadvocates the second. \"Nature,\" says Montaigne, \"has maternally provided\nthat the actions she enjoins upon us for the satisfaction of our wants be\nalso pleasurable, and she invites us thereto not only through reason, but\nalso by the appetite: it is not right to corrupt her rules.\" Not only did\nMontaigne authorize the pleasure of the senses, but he also favored one's\ndelighting in it:\n\n    \"It should be fitly studied, enjoyed, dwelt upon, to show ourselves\n    worthily thankful to him who dispenses it.... To that degree, did I\n    myself follow this precept that in order that the pleasure of sleeping\n    should not stupidly escape me, I found it well in former days, to have\n    myself disturbed in my sleep, that I might catch the feeling of it....\n    Is there any gratification of the senses? I do not allow them to have\n    it all to themselves; I associate my soul with it, not to lose itself\n    in it, but to find itself in it.... It estimates, thereby, how much it\n    owes God for putting the body at its own disposal, allowing it to\n    enjoy in order and completeness the soft and agreeable functions\n    whereby it pleased him to compensate us by his mercy for the pains his\n    justice inflicts on us in its turn.\"\n\nSt. Augustine looks at the thing from an entirely different standpoint:\n\n    \"Thou hast taught me, O my God,\" he says, \"to look upon food as upon a\n    remedy. But when I pass from the suffering of hunger to the repose of\n    satiety, even in this passage from the one to the other does\n    concupiscence lay its snares for me; for this passage is a pleasure,\n    and there is no other means to reach the end which by necessity we\n    must reach. And although real hunger and thirst--eating and drinking\n    be but a matter of health, yet does pleasure join itself thereto as a\n    dangerous companion, and sometimes it even takes the lead and induces\n    me to do from a sense of pleasure, what I only wish to do for my\n    health. What is enough for health, is not enough for pleasure, and it\n    is often difficult to decide whether it is the wants of the body that\n    require to be met, or the deceiving voluptuousness of concupiscence\n    which subjugates us. In this incertitude our miserable soul rejoices\n    because she finds therein a defense and an excuse, and, not knowing\n    what is sufficient for the maintenance of health, she places the\n    interests of voluptuousness under the shadow of this pretext. Every\n    day I endeavor to resist its temptations and invoke thy hand to save\n    me, and I lay at thy feet my incertitudes, because, alas! my\n    resolution is not yet strong enough.\"\n\nIt will be seen that the two moralists use both the same principle\n(namely, the will of Providence) to arrive at entirely different\nconclusions. According to one, pleasure was instituted by God only as a\nmeans to arrive at the satisfaction of bodily wants. It is, then, this\nsatisfaction alone we should have in view. According to the other, God\nallowing necessity to be accompanied by pleasure, invites us thereby to\nenjoy pleasure. It seems to us that the two moralists fall here into an\nexcess: for, according to us, we should not too much distrust pleasure nor\ndelight in it too much: pleasure, not being an evil in itself, there is no\nreason why we should reproach ourselves for enjoying it: for it is as\nessential to the nature of our being as life itself. We may even say that\npleasure is already a superior degree of existence, and it is for this\nreason that the animal is found to be superior to the plant. The scruples\nof St. Augustine in regard to pleasure are, therefore, exaggerated. On the\nother hand, I do not approve of Montaigne's refinement either; it is not\nproper to bring the reflective faculties to bear upon sensual pleasures in\norder to enhance them: to have one's self waked up in order to take\ncognizance of the sweetness of sleep is an unjustifiable refinement of\nsensuality unless one admits pleasure to be the end of life. In one word,\nit is necessary here to avoid at the same time exaggerated _scruples_ and\n_self-gratification_, as occupying the mind more than is necessary with\nwhat has but a very inferior value.[95]\n\nProvidence, besides, has furnished us means to enhance the pleasures of\nthe senses by mingling with them the pleasures of the mind or heart.\n\"Banquets,\" says Kant, \"have, besides the physical pleasure they procure\nus, something that tends to a moral end, namely, to bring together a\ncertain number of people, and to maintain among them an extended\ninterchange of kindly feelings.\"\n\nAnd this austere moralist does not hesitate to lay down certain rules\nwhich should preside over refined festivities. We shall be pardoned if we\nreproduce here some of his witty remarks on that subject. \"The good\ncheer,\" he says, \"which best accords with humanity, is a good repast in\ngood company; a company which Chesterfield says should not fall below the\nnumber of the Graces, nor exceed that of the Muses.... On the contrary,\nlarge assemblages and festivities are altogether in bad taste.... To eat\nalone is unwholesome for a philosophic scholar: it is no restoration, it\nis rather exhaustion; it is a labor, and not a play revivifying thought.\nThe man who eats alone loses gradually his cheerfulness; he recovers it,\non the contrary, when the intermittent jests of a guest give him a new\nsubject of animation which, alone, he would not have been able to\ndiscover.\" Kant further requires, \"that the repast should end with\nlaughter, which, if it is loud and hearty, is a sort of compliment to\nnature.\" Then, after having given rules for table-talk, he concludes by\nsaying: \"However insignificant these laws of polite society may appear,\nespecially when compared to morality properly so called, they are,\nnevertheless, a garment which becomes virtue, and which may be recommended\nin all seriousness. In fact, thanks to these laws, sensual pleasures are\nennobled and increased by mixing with them intellectual pleasures. It is\nthe same with those other pleasures related to the purest and noblest\nsentiments of the heart, and which, thanks to this alliance, may be\nreconciled with perfect chastity.\n\n=141. The exterior bearing.--Propriety.--Decorum.=--Temperance should not\nbe confined to the inner man; it should manifest itself outwardly through\nacts, words, through proper bearing and attitudes: this is what is called\n_decency_; the principal part of which is _modesty_.\n\n    \"We must not,\" says Cicero, \"mind the cynics and certain stoics who\n    turn us into ridicule and reproach us for being ashamed to speak of\n    things that have nothing shameful in themselves. As for us, let us\n    follow nature, and abstain from all that might wound the eyes or ears.\n    Let our bearing, gait, our looks, gestures, be always true to\n    decency.... There are two things to be avoided: soft and effeminate\n    airs, and a boorish and uncouth appearance.\"[96]\n\nThe ancients justly attached great importance to the outward appearance\nand countenance; they regarded it as the sign of the freeman.\n\n    \"There are,\" says Cicero, \"two kinds of beauty: the one, grace; the\n    other, dignity. Grace belongs to woman, dignity to man. We should,\n    therefore, interdict ourselves all that could belie that dignity,\n    either in dress, bearing, or gesture. There are movements among our\n    wrestlers which are sometimes displeasing, and certain gestures of our\n    comedians which are somewhat ridiculous; they would both recommend\n    themselves to the public better by simplicity and decency. One should\n    be neither uncouth nor over-refined; in regard to dress, the most\n    modest is the best. Avoid, likewise, in your gait, either that\n    excessive slowness (reminding one of the imposing gravity of sacred\n    pomps), or too much haste, which is a sure sign of light-headedness\n    and thoughtlessness.\"[97]\n\nThese counsels will not appear minute to those who know that the soul is\nalways ready to fall in with the body, and that the inner man sets himself\nnaturally to the outer man. Disorder in manners, dress, words, bring\ninsensibly with them disorder in thought, and the outward dignity is but\nthe reflection of the dignity of the soul.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nDUTIES RELATING TO EXTERNAL GOODS.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =The necessity of external goods.--Two sorts of duties.=--1. Those\n    relative to _use_; 2. Those relative to _acquisition_.\n\n    =Use of external goods.=--They are _means_ and not _ends_: _avarice_,\n    _cupidity_, _prodigality_.\n\n    It is not the degree of riches, it is the spirit in which we seek or\n    possess them, which is the object of a moral rule.\n\n    _Economy_, a mean between prodigality and avarice.\n\n    Economy and saving are not only duties of _self-preservation_, but of\n    _dignity_.\n\n    Maxims of Franklin.--The prodigal and the miser, according to\n    Aristotle.\n\n    =Acquisition of external things.=--Universal law of work.--_Servile_\n    and _free_ work.--Nobility of work.\n\n    Work is a _pleasure_, a _necessity_, a _duty_.\n\n\n=142. Necessity of external goods.=--External goods are as necessary to man\nas is his body: for it is in the first place a fundamental law of beings\nphysically organized, that they only subsist by means of a continual\nexchange of their component parts, with foreign substances. Life is a\ncirculation, a vortex: we lose and acquire; we return to nature what it\ngave us, and we take from it back again in exchange what we need to repair\nour losses. There follows from this that certain external things,\nespecially food, are indispensable to our existence, and that it is\nabsolutely necessary that we be in sure possession of them in order to be\nourselves sure of life.\n\nFood is not the only need of man. Shelter and clothing, without being as\nrigorously indispensable (especially in warm countries), are nevertheless\nof great utility to maintain a certain equilibrium between the temperature\nof our bodies and the external temperature; for it is well known that the\nderangement of this equilibrium is one of the most ordinary causes of\nillness. Nature not having clothed man as she has the other animals, he is\nobliged to provide himself with clothes by his industry. As for\nhabitations, several animals know as well as man how to construct them:\nfor example, beavers and rabbits; and despite the indisputable superiority\nof his art, this is yet, as we see for man, but the development of an\ninstinct which he shares with other creatures.\n\nThese various wants, then, which to be satisfied demand a certain number\nof material objects, such as food, houses, clothing, etc., carry with them\nothers in their train: for example, the need of locomotion to procure what\nis wanted: hence, carriages, boats, etc.;--the need of protecting one's\nself against those who would take from us what we possess: hence, arms of\nevery kind;--the need of repose and order in the house: hence, furniture\nof every sort;--in a higher degree again the need of pleasing the\nimagination: hence, works of art, pictures, statuary;--the need of\ninformation: hence, books, etc.\n\nFinally, and independently of all these different things, there are yet\ntwo which deserve to be specially noticed, because of their particular and\ndistinctive character. These are, first, land, which is the common and\ninexhaustible source of all riches, the only thing that does not perish,\nand which is always found again in the same quantity after as well as\nbefore the enjoyment of it; land, which is as the substance, the very\nbasis of riches;[98] and the second, money (gold or silver, with their\nrepresentative, paper), which is of a nature to be exchanged against all\nkind of merchandise, even land, and which, consequently, represents them\nall. These two kinds of things, land and money, the one an essential, the\nother a condensed image, of all wealth, are the two most natural objects\nof man's desires, because, with the one or the other, he can procure all\nthe rest.\n\nWe have not to examine here how man succeeds in securing to himself the\nexclusive enjoyment of these several goods: we shall treat the subject of\nproperty further on, and shall explain in what, and why, it is inviolable.\nLet it suffice to say here that these goods being bound up with the very\npreservation of our existence, the desire and instinct which lead us to\nappropriate them, have nothing blameworthy in themselves.\n\nExternal goods being necessary to life, we have to consider how we should\nuse them when we possess them, and how acquire them when we do not possess\nthem.\n\n=143. Duties relating to the use of external\ngoods.--Cupidity.--Avarice.=--From the very fact that man is a part of\nnature, it manifestly follows that he is allowed to make his profit of the\ngoods of nature and to turn them to his use. The only question is then to\nknow to what degree and in what spirit, he should love material goods, and\nwhat use he is to make of them, not in regard to others, but in regard to\nhimself.\n\nA first consideration is that material things or riches have no value in\nthemselves; they are only worth anything as they suit our wants. Gold and\nsilver, in particular, are only a value because they can be exchanged\nagainst useful things, and these things, again, are only good because they\nare useful. They are, to employ Kant's favorite formula, _means_, not\n_ends_. Now we precisely overthrow this order when we take material things\nas ends and not as means--that is to say, when we attribute to them an\n_absolute_ instead of a _relative_ value. This happens when, for example,\nwe seek gain for gain's sake; when we accumulate riches for the sole\npleasure of accumulating them--a vice we call _cupidity_.\n\nIt is, again, what happens when we enjoy wealth for itself, without\nwishing to turn it to use, and depriving ourselves of everything to enjoy\nthe thing itself, which has no other value except that of buying other\nthings; a vice we call _avarice_.\n\nThe character of these two vices (a character which is not only contrary\nto prudence, but also to virtue) is to transform material things into\nabsolute ends. \"Avarice,\" says Kant, very justly, \"is not only economy\nmisunderstood, but a servile subjection to the goods of fortune; an\nincapacity of exercising mastery over them.... It is not only opposed to\ngenerosity, but to liberality of sentiments in general--that is to say, to\nthe principle of independence which recognizes nothing but the law, and\nbecomes thus a fraud which man commits against himself.\" Cupidity does\nnot, at first glance, appear to be of so shameful, and especially so\nridiculous a character as avarice; for avarice is a contradiction to one's\nself (to die rather than lose that which can only serve to prevent us from\ndying), and viewed in that light it becomes a comical oddity. But the love\nof gain for gain's sake is, no less than avarice, a servile subjection to\nthe goods of fortune. To earn money is a necessity to which we must submit\n(and of which we need not be ashamed, since it is nature herself that\nrequires it), but it is not, and should not be, an end to the soul. The\nend of wealth (without failing in the duties we owe to ourselves) should\nbe to make sure of the means of self-preservation, self-cultivation,\neducation--yea, even recreation; for recreation is a thing much more\nrefined and noble than accumulation of wealth. In one word, according to\nan old saying, one must possess riches and not be possessed by them.\n\nSuch is the _spirit_ in which man should seek or possess riches; and it is\nfor him a strict duty; but as to the degree and limits of possession, as\nto the extent or quantity of riches, morality gives us neither rules nor\nprinciples. There is no particular limit known beyond which a man in\nmaking money would become immoral. There is no restriction to his becoming\na millionaire if he can. A morality that should teach to look upon the\nrich as culpable, would be a very false one. The contempt for riches, such\nas the ancient philosophers professed, is a very beautiful thing in\nitself; but to make good use of wealth is also very praiseworthy. Wealth,\nwhich in itself has no value, may have a very great one from the use made\nof it. There is, therefore, no other rule to be observed here than the one\nwe have already pointed out, namely, that we should not love money for\nitself, but acquire it or receive it as a means to be useful to ourselves\nand to others. Let us add, however, that even with this motive, we should\nnot entertain too great a desire for gain;[99] for to take too much\npleasure in accumulating a fortune, even to make a good use of it, is\nagain another way to become its slave.\n\n=144. Poverty.=--The duty of not allowing one's self to become morally a\nslave to external goods, carries with it, as its corollary, the duty of\nbearing poverty patiently if circumstances impose it on us. I do not mean\nhere the strength of soul with which we should bear adversity of any kind\n(we shall speak of that further on), but the resignation with which we\nshould look upon the deprivation of certain things, which have no value in\nthemselves. The poor man should, of course, endeavor to improve his\ncondition by his work, and we are far from recommending to him a stupid\ninsensibility which would dry up the sources of all industry; but what we\nshould especially guard against is this uneasy discontent and powerless\ndesire which are also a kind of slavery. We should try to be satisfied\nwith our lot, as ancient wisdom has it, and if it requires a certain\namount of heroism to bear extreme misery, a limited share of wisdom will\nbe sufficient to enable one to accept patiently poverty and mediocrity.\n\n=145. Prodigality.=--Maintaining, as we have done, that riches have no\nvalue in themselves, except as means to satisfy our wants, do we mean\nthereby that they are to be spent injudiciously?--and would not that\nappear to be condemning saving and economy, virtues which not only\nmorality, but wisdom also, recommends? Shall we, in order to avoid\ncupidity and avarice, run into dissipation and prodigality?\n\nLet us first observe that prodigality, which is the opposite of avarice,\nis not always the opposite of cupidity. The need of spending engenders\nnecessarily the need of obtaining and gaining as much money as possible;\nand the prodigal, if he is not so in the beginning, very soon becomes\ncovetous, through the exhaustion of his resources. \"Most prodigals,\" says\nAristotle, \"become greedy and grasping, because they always wish to spend\nat their will. Their own resources being soon exhausted, they must needs\nprocure others; and as they scarcely take thought about dignity and honor,\nthey appropriate without scruple, and as they can.\" We should, therefore,\nnot view prodigality as a noble independence in respect to riches. It is\nso in the beginning, in fact, with young rich people; but they soon find\nout the limits of their great fortunes, and then begins their slavery in\nrespect to those very goods they made at first so light of.\n\nPrudence and our own interest teach us, of course, sufficiently that\nprodigality is a stupid vice, and that it is absurd to sacrifice the wants\nof to-morrow to the pleasures of to-day. Simple common-sense advises\neconomy and saving. But for this very reason may we ask, with Kant:\n\"whether they deserve the name of virtues; and whether prodigality even,\ninasmuch as it tends to an unexpected indigence, should not be called an\nimprudence rather than a vice?\" We shall say in reply that self-interest\nwell understood becomes itself a duty when in opposition to passion. For\ninstance, if, on the one side, passion lures me on to procure to myself a\ncertain pleasure, and that, on the other, self-interest shows that this\npleasure imperils my health, it is certain that _duty_ in this\ncircumstance commands me to prefer my health to a momentary pleasure.[100]\nPrudence, then, is but the exercise of a more general duty, which, if not\nthe basis, is at least the condition of all the others: the duty of\nself-preservation.\n\nEconomy and saving are not only a duty of self-preservation, but also a\nduty of dignity: for experience teaches us that poverty and misery bring\nus into the dependency of others and that want leads to beggary. He who\nknows how to husband his means of existence, secures for himself in the\nfuture not only his livelihood, but also independence; in depriving\nhimself of fleeting and commonplace pleasures, he buys what is far better,\nnamely, dignity.\n\n    \"Be economical,\" says Franklin, \"and independence shall be thy shield\n    and buckler, thy helmet and crown; then shall thy soul walk upright,\n    nor stoop to the silken wretch because he hath riches; nor pocket an\n    abuse because the hand which offers it wears a ring set with\n    diamonds.\"\n\nIt is from this point of view that the charming and witty, though\nsometimes vulgar, precepts of poor Richard may be regarded as moral\nmaxims, and should have access to all minds:\n\n\"If you would be wealthy, think of saving as well as of getting.\"\n\n\"A fat kitchen makes a lean will.\"\n\n\"What maintains one vice would bring up two children.\"\n\n\"Many littles make a mickle.\"\n\n\"Fools make feasts and wise men eat them.\"\n\n\"It is foolish to lay out money in a purchase of repentance.\"\n\n\"Silks and satins, scarlet and velvets put out the kitchen fire.\"\n\n\"When the well is dry, they know the worth of water.\"\n\n\"Pride breakfasted with Plenty, dined with Poverty, and supped with\nInfamy.\"[101]\n\nWhat Franklin has depicted with greatest force and eloquence, is the\nhumiliation attached to debts, a sad consequence of the want of economy.\nThere is a kind of pride which is not that of Rome and Sparta, nor of the\ncourts and the great, but which has not the less its price.\n\n    \"He that goes a borrowing, goes a sorrowing. Alas! think well what you\n    do when you run in debt; you give to another power over your liberty.\n    If you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed to see your\n    creditor; you will be in fear when you speak to him; you will make\n    poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and by degrees come to lose your\n    veracity, and sink into base, downright lying. _For lying rides upon\n    Debt's back._ A free-born man ought not to be afraid to see or speak\n    to any man living. But poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and\n    virtue. _It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright._\"\n\nWe should then avoid so to subject ourselves to material things as not to\ndare make use of them, which is avarice; or to spend them foolishly and\nthus render ourselves dependent upon men, which is prodigality. Economy\nlies between the two, and it is one of the virtues upon which Aristotle\nhas most successfully established his theory of the golden mean. Kant,\nhowever, does not agree with him on this point. \"For,\" says he, \"if\neconomy is a just medium between two extremes, then should we, in going\nfrom one vice to the opposite vice, have to pass through virtue: the\nlatter then would be nothing more than a lesser vice.\" According to Kant,\nit is not the _measure_ but the _principle_ which may serve to distinguish\na vice from a virtue: the one is distinguished from the other not\nquantitatively, but specifically. The two vices, extremes themselves,\nprodigality and avarice, namely, are opposed to each other, not only in\ndegree, but in kind. What is prodigality? \"It is,\" says Kant, \"to procure\nmeans of livelihood with a view to the enjoyment only.\" What is avarice?\n\"To acquire and preserve these means in view of possession only,\ninterdicting one's self the enjoyment thereof.\" These two qualities, it is\nseen, do not only differ from each other in the more or the less, but in\ntheir very nature. There would remain next to ask, what is the quality of\neconomy, and that is just what Kant does not tell us. In default of it,\nit might be formulated thus: \"to acquire and preserve the means of\nlivelihood, not for the sake of possession or enjoyment, but for present\nor future need.\" Only there remains still the difficulty of distinguishing\nneed from enjoyment. Where does legitimate need end? Where does barren\nenjoyment begin? It is here that Aristotle's formula asserts itself, and\nthat we must finally come to recognize that the virtue of economy consists\nin a certain medium between prodigality and avarice.\n\nYet whatever it be, we cannot better close this subject than by citing\nAristotle's admirable description of the prodigal and the miser: La\nBruyere shows no greater acuteness and force.\n\n    \"The prodigal is he who ruins himself on his own accord. The senseless\n    squandering of his property is a sort of self-destruction, since one\n    can only live on what one has. Prodigality is the excess of giving,\n    and the want of receiving; but these two conditions cannot very long\n    keep together; for it is not easy to give to every one, when one\n    receives from no one. This vice, however, should not appear as\n    blameworthy as that of avarice. Age, distress even, may easily enough\n    correct the prodigal and bring him back to a just medium. Thus is the\n    nature of the prodigal on the whole not a bad one; there is nothing\n    vicious or low in this excessive tendency to give much and take\n    nothing in return; it is only folly. It is true that prodigals become\n    greedy and grasping. This is also why their gifts are not truly\n    liberal ... why they enrich some people who should be left in poverty,\n    and refuse doing anything for others far more deserving. They give\n    with open hands to flatterers or people who procure them pleasures as\n    unworthy as those of flattery.\n\n    \"Avarice is incurable.... Avarice is more natural to man than\n    prodigality; for most of us prefer keeping what we have than giving it\n    away.... It consists of two principal elements: defect of giving,\n    excess of receiving.... Some show more excess of receiving, some more\n    defect of giving. Thus do all those branded by the name shabby,\n    stingy, mean, sin through a defect of giving; yet do they not covet,\n    nor would they take what belongs to others.... Other misers, on the\n    contrary, may be known by their grasping propensities, taking all they\n    can get: for example, all those who engage in ignoble speculations ...\n    usurers and all those who lend small sums at large interest. All these\n    people take where they should not take, and more than they ought to\n    take. Lust for the most shameful lucre seems to be the common vice of\n    all degraded hearts: there is no infamy they are not willing to\n    endure, if they can make it a profit.\"[102]\n\n=146. Duties relating to the acquisition of external things.--Work.=--The\nnecessity of procuring the things needful to life imposes on us a\nfundamental obligation, which continues even when the want is met: it is\nthe obligation of _work_.\n\nWork springs from want; this is its first origin; but it survives want;\nand its beauty and dignity consist in that, being at first born of a\nnatural necessity, it becomes the honor of man and the salvation of\nsociety.\n\nIn its most general sense, work means activity, and in that sense it may\nbe said that everything works in nature; everything is in motion;\neverywhere we see effort, energy, unfolding of forces. Take but the\nanimals: the bird works to build its nest; the spider to weave its web;\nthe bee to make her honey; the beaver to construct its lodges; the dog to\ncatch the game; the cat to catch mice. We find among animals workmen of\nall sorts: masons, architects, tailors, hunters, travelers; even\npoliticians and artists, as if they had been destined to set us examples\nin all kinds of work and activity.\n\n    \"In the morning,\" says Marcus Aurelius, \"when thou hast trouble in\n    getting up, say to thyself: I awake to do the work of a man: why,\n    then, should I grieve for having to do things for which I am born, for\n    which I was sent into the world? Was I born to remain warmly in bed\n    under my cover?--But it is so pleasant.--Wert thou born for pleasure,\n    then? Was it not for action, for work? Seest thou not the plants, the\n    sparrows, the ants, the spiders, the bees, filling each their\n    functions, and contributing according to their capacity to the harmony\n    of the world? And shouldst thou refuse to attend thy functions as man?\n    Shouldst thou not follow the biddings of nature?\"[103]\n\nThe ancients distinguished two kinds of work: noble and independent work,\nnamely, the arts, the sciences, war and politics; and servile or mercenary\nwork imposed by necessity. The latter they deemed below the dignity of\nman; manual labor, properly so called, useful work, distinct from\ngymnastics and military exercises, they considered as belonging\nexclusively to slaves. It is to this Aristotle referred when he said:\n\n    \"There are men who have but just the necessary amount of reason to\n    understand the reason of others: it is they whose only work is useful\n    manual labor. It is obvious that such men cannot belong to themselves;\n    they belong necessarily to others; they are slaves by nature.\"\n\nAristotle believed, moreover, that nature herself had made the distinction\nbetween the freeman and the slave:\n\n    \"Nature,\" he said, \"made the bodies of the freemen different from\n    those of the slaves; she gave to the latter the necessary vigor for\n    the heavy work of society, and made the former unable to bend their\n    erect natures to such rude labors.\"[104]\n\nIt is not necessary to have lived to this present time to find these\nerrors refuted. Before Aristotle, Socrates had already understood the\ndignity of labor, even of the productive labor insuring a livelihood; he\nhad seen that work in itself was not servile, as the following charming\naccount related by Xenophon, well proves:\n\n\"Socrates, observing, on one occasion, Aristarchus looking gloomily, 'You\nseem,' said he, 'Aristarchus, to be taking something to heart; but you\nought to impart the cause of your uneasiness to your friends; for,\nperhaps, we may by some means lighten it.'\n\n\"'I am indeed, Socrates,' replied Aristarchus, 'in great perplexity; for\nsince the city has been disturbed, and many of our people have fled to the\nPiraeus, my surviving sisters and nieces and cousins have gathered about me\nin such numbers, that there are now in my house fourteen free-born\npersons. At the same time, we receive no profit from our lands, for the\nenemy are in possession of them; nor any rent from our houses, for but few\ninhabitants are left in the city; no one will buy our furniture, nor is it\npossible to borrow money from any quarter; a person, indeed, as it seems\nto me, would sooner find money by seeking it on the road, than get it by\nborrowing. It is a grievous thing to me, therefore, to leave my relations\nto perish; and it is impossible for me to support such a number under such\ncircumstances.' Socrates, on hearing this, replied: 'Are you not aware\nthat Cyrebus, by making bread, maintains his whole household and lives\nluxuriously; that Demea supports himself by making cloaks, Menon by making\nwoolen cloaks, and that most of the Megarians live by making mantles?'\n'Certainly they do,' said Aristarchus; 'for they purchase barbarian slaves\nand keep them, in order to force them to do what they please; but I have\nwith me free-born persons and relatives.' 'Then,' added Socrates, 'because\nthey are free and related to you, do you think that they ought to do\nnothing else but eat and sleep? Do you find that idleness and carelessness\nare serviceable to mankind, either for learning what it becomes them to\nknow, or for remembering what they have learned, or for maintaining the\nhealth and strength of their bodies, and that industry and diligence are\nof no service at all? And as to the arts which you say they know, did they\nlearn them as being useless to maintain life, and with the intention of\nnever practicing any of them, or, on the contrary, with a view to occupy\nthemselves about them, and to reap profit from them? In which condition\nwill men be more temperate, living in idleness or attending to useful\nemployments? In which condition will they be more honest, if they work, or\nif they sit in idleness meditating how to procure necessaries?' 'By the\ngods,' exclaimed Aristarchus, 'you seem to me to give such excellent\nadvice, Socrates, that though hitherto I did not like to borrow money,\nknowing that, when I had spent what I got, I should have no means of\nrepaying it, I now think that I can endure to do so, in order to gain the\nnecessary means for commencing work.'\n\n\"The necessary means were accordingly provided; wool was bought; and the\nwomen took their dinners as they continued at work, and supped when they\nhad finished their tasks; they became cheerful instead of gloomy in\ncountenance, and, instead of regarding each other with dislike, met the\nlooks of one another with pleasure; they loved Aristarchus as their\nprotector, and he loved them as being of use to him. At last he came to\nSocrates, and told him with delight of the state of things in the house;\nadding that, 'the women complained of him as being the only person in the\nhouse that ate the bread of idleness.' 'And do you not tell them,' said\nSocrates, 'the fable of the dog? For they say that when beasts had the\nfaculty of speech, the sheep said to her master: \"You act strangely, in\ngranting nothing to us who supply you with wool, and lambs, and cheese,\nexcept what we get from the ground; while to the dog, who brings you no\nsuch profits, you give a share of the food which you take yourself.\"\n\n\"The dog hearing these remarks, said, 'And not indeed without reason: for\nI am he that protects even yourselves, so that you are neither stolen by\nmen, nor carried off by wolves; while, if I were not to guard you, you\nwould be unable even to feed, for fear lest you should be destroyed.' In\nconsequence it is said that the sheep agreed that the dog should have\nsuperior honor. You, accordingly, tell your relations that you are, in the\nplace of the dog, their guardian and protector, and that, by your means,\nthey work and live in security and pleasure, without suffering injury from\nany one.'\"[105]\n\nIf it is unjust to regard manual and productive work as servile, it is\nequally unjust to regard them as alone entitled to the name of work.\n\n    \"There are,\" says a Chinese sage, \"two kinds of work: some people work\n    with their minds; some with their hands. Those who work with their\n    minds govern men; those who work with their hands are governed by men.\n    Those who are governed by men feed men; those who govern men are fed\n    by men.\"[106]\n\nThe same author shows further how divers functions are necessarily divided\nin society.\n\n    \"The holy man said to his brother: Go and comfort men; call them to\n    thee; bring them back to virtue; correct them, help them; make them\n    prosper. In thus busying themselves with the welfare of the people,\n    could these holy men find leisure to engage in agriculture?\"\n\nWe must, therefore, admit that all activity usefully employed is work, and\nthat all work, whether manual or intellectual, mercenary[107] or\ngratuitous, is noble and legitimate.\n\nWork being taken in its most general sense, may be set down as being a\n_pleasure_, a _necessity_, a _duty_.\n\nKant, who, as we have seen, refuses to admit in morals any other principle\nbut that of duty, would probably disagree with us when we say that work is\na pleasure and a necessity. But if it be true, why should we not say so?\nIs it necessary, in order that the duty of work be truly accomplished,\nthat it be both painful and useless? Wisdom nowise requires this.\nProvidence having attached to work, whilst making it the necessary\ncondition of our self-preservation, a certain pleasure, lightening thereby\nour efforts, morality nowise forbids us to enjoy this pleasure and accept\nthis necessity.\n\nIt will be easily granted that work is a necessity; but it is more\ndifficult to obtain from men the admission that it is a pleasure. Man, if\nhe will not die of hunger, must work, unquestionably, they will say; but\nthat it is a pleasure is quite another thing.\n\nIf the pleasure of work is put to question, no one at least will maintain\nthat it is a pleasure not to work. For when does rest, leisure, recreation\ngive us most pleasure? Everybody knows, it is when we have worked. Recall\nto mind any unusually heavy work, any hurried and necessary task, or even\nour daily or weekly duty scrupulously fulfilled: what joy is it not when\nthe task is done to give ourselves a holiday!\n\nIdleness brings with it satiety, weariness, disgust, disorder, the ruin\nof the family, the destruction of health, and other evils still more\nbaleful. Work, on the contrary, makes repose enjoyable. Without the\nfatigue of the day's work, no pleasure in sleep, and even no sleep at all.\nA manifest proof that Providence did not intend us for repose, but for\naction, for effort, for struggle, for energetic and constant work.\n\nWe should even go so far as to say that work is not only a stimulant, but\nthat it is in itself a pleasure and a joy.\n\nThere is, in the first place, the joy of self-love. We all experience joy\nwhen we have accomplished something; when we have succeeded in a difficult\nwork, and the more difficult it was, the prouder we are of it. Besides,\nthe exercise which accompanies activity is in itself a great good. The\nunfolding of strength, physical or moral, is the source of the truest\npleasures. Activity is life itself: to live, is to act. Work, again, gives\nus the pleasure which accompanies any kind of struggle: in working we\nstruggle against the forces of nature, we subdue them, discipline them, we\nteach them to obey us. Unquestionably the first efforts are painful: but\nwhen once the first difficulties are overcome, work is so little a fatigue\nthat it becomes a pleasant necessity. One is even obliged to make an\neffort to take rest. Yes, after having in childhood had trouble to get\naccustomed to work, what in the long run becomes the most difficult, is\nnot to work. One is almost obliged to fight against himself, to force\nhimself to recreation and rest. Leisure in its turn becomes a duty to\nwhich we almost submit against our will, and only because reason bids us\nto submit to it; for we know that we must not abuse the strength\nProvidence has entrusted to us.\n\nIt is not necessary to dwell long on this point to fix in our memory that\nwork alone insures security and comfort. Certainly it does not always\nsecure them; this is unfortunately too true; but if we are not quite sure\nthat by working we can provide for wife and children, and secure a\nlegitimate rest for our old age, we may, on the other hand, be quite sure\nthat without work we shall bring upon ourselves and our family certain\nmisery. There have not yet been found any means whereby wealth may be\nstruck out of the earth without work. This wealth which dazzles our eyes;\nthese palaces, carriages, splendid dresses, this furniture, luxury, all\nthese riches and others more substantial: machinery, iron-works, land\nproduce, all this is accumulated work. Between the condition of savages\nthat wander about famished in the forests of America, and the condition of\nour civilized societies, there is no other difference but work. Suppose (a\nthing impossible) that in a society like this our own, all work should all\nat once be stopped: distress and hunger would be the immediate and\ninevitable consequence. Spain, on discovering the gold mines of America,\nthought herself enriched forever; she ceased work; it was her ruin; for\nfrom being Europe's sovereign mistress, as she then was, she fell to the\nrank we see her occupy to-day. Laziness brings with it misery; misery\nbeggary, and beggary is not always satisfied with asking merely--it\nsteals.\n\nWork is not only a pleasure or a necessity, it is also a duty; though\npainful and joyless, work is, nevertheless, an obligation for man; it were\nstill an obligation for him if he could live without it. Work does not\nonly insure security: it secures dignity. Man was created to exercise the\nfaculties of his mind and body. He was created to act. I do not speak here\nof what he owes to others, but of what he owes to himself. \"The happy\nman,\" says Aristotle, \"is not the man asleep, but the man awake,\" and to\nbe awake is to work and act.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nDUTIES RELATING TO THE INTELLECT.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =Duties relative to the investigation of truth.=--Of intellectual\n    virtues: that there are such.\n\n    Of the three forms of the intellect: _speculative_, _critical_,\n    _practical_. Hence, three principal qualities: _knowledge_, _judgment_\n    or _good sense_, _prudence_.\n\n    Of _knowledge_.--Refutation of the objections to knowledge: Nicole,\n    Malebranche and Rousseau.\n\n    General duty to cultivate one's intellect: the impossibility of\n    determining the full range of this duty.\n\n    _Good sense or judgment._--Errors committed in ordinary life: sophisms\n    of self-love, interest, and passion.--Other sophisms founded on false\n    appearances.--Logical rules.\n\n    Of prudence or practical wisdom.--Can it be called a virtue?\n    Particular rules.\n\n    =Duties relative to telling the truth.--Lying.=--Two kinds of lies:\n    inward and outward lying.\n\n    Inward lying.--Can one lie to himself? Examples.\n\n    Of the lie properly so-called.--How and why it lowers the mind.\n\n    _Of silence._--To distinguish between _dissimulation_ and\n    _discretion_.\n\n    Duty of silence: in what cases?\n\n    Of the oath and of perjury.--Perjury is a double lie.\n\n\nThe different duties of man toward himself, considered as a moral being,\nare naturally deduced from the divers faculties of which this moral being\nis composed. Plato is the first, to our knowledge, who has employed this\nmode of deduction.[108] It is after having distinguished three parts or\nthree faculties in the soul, that he attributes to each of them a virtue\nproper, \"virtue being,\" he says, \"the quality by means of which one does a\nthing well.\" It is thus that the virtue of wisdom corresponds to the\nfaculty of the understanding; the virtue of courage to the irascible or\ncourageous faculty, or to the heart; temperance, to that of desire or\nappetite. To these three virtues, Plato adds another which is but the\nharmony, the accord, the equilibrium between these, namely, justice.\nCicero afterwards took up this deduction from another standpoint.[109]\n\nIn applying this ancient method to the present divisions of psychology, we\nshall admit, with Plato and Cicero, an order of virtues relative to the\nmind, and which we will call _wisdom_; and another class of virtues\nrelating to the will, and which would correspond with _courage_ or\n_strength_ of _mind_ (_virtus_, _magnitudo animi_). As to sensibility, if\nwe take into consideration the appetites and physical desires, the virtue\nrelating to them is _temperance_, of which we have already spoken. There\nremain the emotions, the affections of the heart which relate more\nparticularly to the duties toward others. Yet they may, in a certain\nrespect, be also considered as duties toward one's self, although language\ndoes not designate this kind of virtue by a particular name.[110]\n\n=147. Duties relative to the investigation of truth.=--_Intellectual\nvirtues._--There are two classes of virtues which have been often\ndistinguished: the _strict_ duties and the _broad_ duties: the strict\nduties to consist in not injuring one's faculties; the broad, to develop\nand perfect them; it is not easy to apply this distinction here; and,\nconcerning intelligence, to separate self-preservation from\nself-improvement. In such a case, not to gain is inevitably to lose; he\nwho does not cultivate his intellect, impairs it by that very fact.\n\nOne could not then, without pedantic investigation and subtlety, try to\ndistinguish here, in one and the same duty, two distinct duties: the one\nprohibitive, the other imperative. They are both bound up in the general\nduty to cultivate one's intellect. It is not so with the relations\nexisting between one's own intellect and the intellect of others; the\nexpression of a thought gives rise to a strict duty: not to lie; which is\nthe immediate consequence of the duty of the intellect toward itself, and\nwhich consequently should, by way of corollary, also belong to the present\nchapter.\n\nThe first question which presents itself to us is to know whether we\nshould admit, with Aristotle, _intellectual_ virtues, properly so called,\ndistinct from the _moral_ virtues, the first having regard to the\nintellect, the second to the passions. It would seem that the various\nfaculties pointed out by Aristotle under the name of intellectual virtues,\nare rather qualities of the mind than virtues: art, science, prudence,\nwisdom, intelligence[111] (not to mention the difficulty of determining\nthe various shades of meaning of these terms), are natural or acquired\naptitudes, but which do not appear to have any moral merit: a scholar, an\nartist, a clever man, a man of good sense and good counsel are naturally\ndistinguished from virtuous men. It would seem then that the intellectual\nvirtues are opposed to the moral virtues, as the mind is to the heart:\nnow, for every one, it is the heart rather than the mind that is the seat\nof virtue.\n\nThese difficulties are only apparent, and Aristotle himself gives us the\nmeans of solving them:\n\n    \"In order to be truly virtuous,\" he says, \"one should always act in a\n    certain moral spirit: I mean that the choice of an action should be a\n    free one, determined only by the nature of the acts one accomplishes.\n    Now it is virtue that renders this choice laudable and good.\"[112]\n\nIt is not the natural faculties of the mind then, no more than those of\nthe heart and body, that deserve the name of virtues. It is those same\nfaculties, developed and cultivated by the will: on this condition alone\ndo they deserve esteem and respect. The intellect is in itself of a higher\norder than the senses, the appetites, the passions: it is therefore\nincumbent upon us to give it the largest share in our personal\ndevelopment. \"It is to that we are allied,\" says Pascal, \"not to space and\ntime. Let our efforts then tend to think well; this is the principle of\nmorality.\" The intellect presents two particular forms: it is either\n_contemplative_ or _active_, _theoretical_ or _practical_. The virtue of\nthe contemplative intellect is _knowledge_; that of the practical\nintellect _prudence_. Finally a third virtue might be admitted: _judgment_\nor _common sense_, which is a _critical_,[113] not a practical faculty,\nand which partakes at the same time of both sides of the understanding.\n\nThese subtle distinctions of Aristotle have not lost their correctness and\napplication with time. One can, in fact, employ his mind in three ways:\neither contemplate absolute truth by the means of science;--or judge of\nevents and men and foresee future things without contributing toward their\noccurrence;--or again deliberate as to what is to be done or not to be\ndone to bring about actions useful to one's self and to others. Hence\nthree kinds of men: the _wise_, the _intelligent_, the _prudent_.\n\n_Knowledge._--Taking up again, one after the other, these three qualities,\nwe ought to ask ourselves whether knowledge is a duty for man; if he is\nheld to develop his mind in a theoretical manner and without any practical\nend. But before we examine whether it is a duty, let us first find out\nwhether it is lawful.\n\nThe scientific and speculative culture of the mind on the part of man, has\noften been regarded as a proud or conceited refinement.\n\nThis opinion was expressed by some writers of the seventeenth century--for\ninstance, by Nicole, in the preface to the _Logique de Port Royal_:\n\n    \"These sciences,\" he says, \"have not only back-corners and secret\n    recesses of very little use, but they are all useless when viewed in\n    themselves and for themselves. Men were not born to spend their time\n    measuring lines, examining the relations of angles, studying the\n    divers movements of matter: their mind is too vast, their life too\n    short, their time too precious, to occupy themselves with such small\n    matters.\"\n\nMalebranche expresses himself in about the same terms:\n\n    \"Men were not born to become astronomers or chemists, to spend their\n    whole life hanging on a telescope or fastened to a furnace, for no\n    better purpose than to draw afterwards from their laborious\n    observations useless consequences. Granting some astronomer was the\n    first in discovering lands, seas, and mountains in the moon; that he\n    was the first to perceive spots moving upon the sun, and that he has\n    calculated their movements exactly. Granting some chemists to have\n    finally discovered the secret of fixing mercury or to make that\n    alkahest by means of which Van Helmont boasted he could dissolve all\n    matter: were they the wiser and happier for it?\"\n\nIn expressing themselves so disdainfully concerning the sciences, Nicole\nand Malebranche meant, in fact, only that one should not prefer\nspeculative knowledge to the science of man or to the science of God; and\nit is most true that if we view the sciences from a standpoint of dignity,\nwe must admit that the moral sciences have greater excellence than the\nphysical sciences. But that which is equally true is, that we must not\nmeasure the merit of the sciences by their material or even moral or\nlogical utility. Science is in itself, and without regard to any other end\nbut itself, worthy to be loved and studied. Intelligence, in fact, was\ngiven to man that he might know the truth of things; investigation is its\nnatural food. Man, in raising himself to science, increases thereby the\nexcellence of his nature; he becomes a creature of a higher order; for in\nthe order of divine creatures, the most perfect are at the same time those\nwho know the most, and the highest degree of happiness promised to\nreligious faith, is to know truth face to face. It is therefore no\nfrivolous amusement to increase here below the sum of knowledge we are\ncapable of, though this knowledge be only that of the things of this\nworld, and not yet the higher and direct knowledge of God.\n\nWithout admitting that science is of itself a legitimate object of\nresearch, it will be recognized that it is lawful to study it, either in\nour own interest or for the love of others, or for the love of God. But\nthis is not enough: to see in science nothing but a means to be useful to\nourselves (as, for example, to make a living),[114] is a servile and\nmercenary view, which does not deserve to be discussed. To maintain that\nscience should only be cultivated because of its utility to others, is the\nsame as to say that man has no duties toward himself, and that he is not\nobliged, letting alone the interest of others, to respect or perfect his\nown self: a thing we have already refuted. Finally, to say that science\nshould be cultivated as a gift from God, and for the love of God, may be\ntrue; but this is not any more applicable to that occupation than to any\nother; and the same may be said of any other kind of duty without\nexception. Certainly, science should not make one proud; but pride is only\nan adventitious and not a necessary consequence, which, in speaking of\ncultivating science, should not be confounded with the fact itself.\n\nBesides, when Malebranche says that the scientist is not any happier or\nwiser for his science, he is mistaken: for the greatest happiness is\nsometimes derived from science alone; and as to the wisdom of it, a taste\nfor elevated thought is already a guarantee against the allurements of the\npassions; finally, whilst we cultivate science, we are safe from other\nless innocent inclinations.\n\nTo the opinions of Nicole and Malebranche, let us oppose the testimony of\ntwo men who possessed in the highest degree the respect and love of\nscience:\n\n    \"It is unworthy of man,\" says Aristotle, \"not to possess himself of\n    all the science he can. If the poets are right, when they say that the\n    Divinity is capable of jealousy, this jealousy would especially\n    manifest itself in regard to philosophy, and then, all those who\n    indulged in elevated thought would be unhappy. But it is not possible\n    for the Divinity to be jealous, and the poets, as the proverb says, do\n    not always tell the truth.\n\nLet us now hear Descartes:\n\n    \"Although in judging myself I find that I am more disposed to incline\n    toward the side of distrust than presumption, and that regarding with\n    a philosopher's eye the diverse actions and enterprises of men, there\n    be scarcely any that do not seem to me vain and useless, yet does the\n    progress which I think I have already made in the search for truth\n    give me extreme satisfaction, and inspire me with such hopes for the\n    future that if, among the more material occupations of men, there are\n    any substantially good and important, I dare believe that it is the\n    one I have chosen.\"[115]\n\nIf, from a standpoint of somewhat mystical piety, some minds of the\nseventeenth century regarded the sciences as useless, a paradoxical\nstoicism accused them in the eighteenth to be a cause of corruption and\ndecay in society. Such is J. J. Rousseau's celebrated thesis in his first\nspeech at the Academy of Dijon.\n\nThis celebrated paradox, which has created so much excitement in the past\ncentury, and which is even an historical event (for it was the first\nattack against the society of the time), has since been so decried that it\nis useless to dwell on it. Let us make a brief _resume_ of J. J.\nRousseau's arguments:\n\n1. Progress in letters and sciences serves for nothing else but to conceal\nthe vices and put hypocrisy in the place of an ill-bred rusticity.\n\n2. All great nations ceased to be invincible as soon as the sciences\npenetrated among them. Egypt, after the conquest of Cambyses; Greece,\nafter Pericles; Rome, after Augustus. If, on the contrary, we look for\nexamples of healthy, honest, vigorous nations, we find them among the\nancient Persians, Scythians, Spartans, the first Romans, the Swiss.\n\n3. The sciences and arts are born of and nourish idleness. Their least\nmischief is uselessness.[116]\n\n4. The letters and arts engender luxury, and luxury is one of the powerful\ninstruments of corruption in morals: it destroys courage, lowers the\ncharacter, and, by another consequence, depraves and corrupts the taste\neven.\n\n5. Another consequence: the culture of the mind engenders sophisms, false\nsystems, and dangerous doubts about religion and morality.\n\nThese various arguments, taking them up one after the other, may be\nanswered as follows:\n\n1. It is nowise proved that in the age of ignorance vices were less\nnumerous and less deeply rooted than in the more enlightened age. Decency\nis a good in itself, and is not always hypocrisy. Delicacy of mind robs at\nleast vice of its grossest features; it diminishes and allays violence,\nwhich is a great source of crimes.\n\n2. It is not true that military virtues (which, besides, are not the only\nadmirable virtues) are destroyed by the culture of the mind: modern\nexamples prove this sufficiently.\n\n3. To say that the letters and sciences are born of and nourish idleness\nis an abuse of words. Wherein is the man who works mentally more idle than\nhe who works with his hands?\n\n4. The sciences and letters do not develop a taste for luxury: luxury\nwould develop without them, and would be all the more frivolous and\ncorrupting: they are concomitant, but not mutually related facts. Luxury,\nbesides, is not absolutely bad in itself: the taste for elegance is a\nlegitimate one. Is not nature herself adorned?\n\n5. Science develops wrong opinions, false systems: so be it; but it also\ncorrects them, and we should look at both sides of a thing and see its\ngood parts as well as its bad. Otherwise it would be easy to prove that\neverything is wrong.\n\nRousseau's paradox, however, is not altogether false, and there are,\nunquestionably, many evils mixed up with the culture of the mind, but\nthese evils do not come from the mind's being cultivated, but from its\nbeing badly cultivated; they do not come from people's seeking the true\nand the beautiful, but, on the contrary, from their not seeking them\nenough. The vanity derived from false science should not be imputed to\ntrue science, but to ignorance. The moral enfeeblement, which is the\nresult of an over-refined culture of the mind, comes from our not\nsufficiently cultivating the mind in every direction; for example, from\nour neglecting the moral sciences for the industrial sciences, or the\nnobler arts for the voluptuous arts. The remedy for the evils pointed out\nby Rousseau is, therefore, not ignorance, but, on the contrary, a greater\nabundance of light, and higher lights.\n\nIt is then for each of us a duty to instruct himself, but it is evident\nthat this duty must be regarded as a broad duty--that is to say, that its\napplication cannot be determined by precise formulas. No man is obliged by\nthe moral law to be what is called a scholar; no one is obliged to learn\nastronomy or transcendental mathematics, still less metaphysics. But it\ncan be said that it is a duty for each of us: 1. To learn as well as\npossible the principles of the art he will have to cultivate: for\ninstance, the magistrate the principles of jurisprudence; the physician\nthe principles of medicine; the artisan the principles of mechanics. In\nthis respect young students, we must confess, have far too easy a\nconscience. They do not realize the responsibility they incur by their\nnegligence and laziness. 2. It is a duty for all men, according to the\nmeans they can dispose of, to instruct themselves concerning their\nduties. 3. It is also a duty for each to go, as far as he can, beyond the\nstrictly necessary in matters of education, and in proportion to the means\nhe has at his disposal. It is then a duty to neglect no occasion of\nimproving one's self.\n\n=149. Good sense.=--Between science and prudence, between _theoretical_\nintelligence and _practical_ intelligence, Aristotle places the _critical_\nfaculty--in other terms, judgment, good sense, discernment. This faculty\nis distinguished from science in that it is only applied to things where\ndoubt and deliberation come in; it treats then of the same objects as\nprudence; but it is distinguished from the latter in that prudence is\npractical and prescribes what should be done or not be done; good sense,\non the contrary, is purely critical: it is limited to mere judging. It is,\nthen, in some respects disinterested and does not induce to action; it is\nthe art of appreciating things, men, and events. Good judgment may be\nfound among men lacking practical prudence: one sees often very well the\nfaults of others without seeing one's own; or, again, one may be aware of\none's own faults and not be able to correct them. However, it is not to be\ndenied that good sense or good judgment is a useful auxiliary to prudence;\nit is already in itself an estimable quality, and is far from being as\nwell distributed among men as Descartes claims.[117] On the contrary,\naccording to Nicole:\n\n    \"Common sense is not so common a quality as one thinks.... Nothing is\n    more rare than this exactness of judgment. Everywhere we meet false\n    minds who have scarcely any discernment of what is true; who take\n    everything the wrong way; who accept the worst kind of reasonings, and\n    wish to make others accept them also; who allow themselves to be\n    carried away by the least appearances of things; who are always\n    excessive in their views and run into extremes; minds who either have\n    no grasp to hold on to the truths they have acquired, because they\n    have become attached to them through chance rather than solid\n    knowledge; or who, on the contrary, persist in their ideas with such\n    stubbornness that they listen to nothing that could undeceive them;\n    who judge boldly of things neither they nor any one else, perhaps,\n    ever understood; who make no difference between talking to the\n    purpose and talking nonsense, and are guided in their judgment by mere\n    trifles.... So that there are no absurdities, however incredible, that\n    do not find approving adherents. Whoever intends duping people is sure\n    to find people glad to be duped, and the most ridiculous nonsense is\n    sure to find minds suited for it.\"\n\nHere, the rules of morality are confounded with those of logic. It is the\nlatter that teaches us how to avoid error, if not in science (which is the\nobject of speculative logic), at least in life. The development of these\nrules will be found in the _Recherche de la verite_ of Malebranche. The\n_Logique de Port Royal_ will furnish us a _resume_ of them which will\nsuffice here:\n\n=150. Illusions coming from ourselves.=--1. A first cause of illusion in\nthe judgments we pass upon things, is to take our interest for a motive of\nbelief: \"I am of such or such a country, _ergo_, I must believe that such\nor such a saint has preached the Gospel there; I belong to such or such a\nclass, _ergo_, I believe that such or such a privilege is a just one.\"\n\n2. Our affections are another cause of illusion: \"I love him, _ergo_, he\nis the cleverest man in the world; I hate him, _ergo_, he is nobody.\" This\nis what may be called the sophistry of the heart.\n\n3. Illusions of self-love. There are some who decide about everything by\nthe general and very convenient principle, that they must be in the right.\nThey listen but little to the reasons of others; they wish to carry\neverything before them by main authority, and treat all those who are not\nof their opinion as indifferent thinkers. Some even, without suspecting\nit, go so far as to say to themselves: \"If it were so, I should not be the\nclever man I am: or, I am a clever man; _ergo_, it is not so.\"\n\n4. Reciprocal reproaches which people may make to each other with the same\nright: for example, you are a caviler, you are selfish, blind, dishonest,\netc. Whence this equitable and judicious rule of Saint Augustine: \"Let us\navoid in discussions mutual reproaching; reproaches which, though they\nmay not be true at that moment, may justly be made by both parties.\"\n\n5. A spirit of contradiction and dispute, so admirably depicted by\nMontaigne:\n\n    \"We only learn to dispute that we may contradict, and every one\n    contradicting and being contradicted, it falls out that the fruit of\n    disputation is to lose and nullify the truth.... One flies to the\n    east, the other to the west; they lose the principal, and wander in\n    the crowd of incidents; after an hour of tempest, they know not what\n    they seek; one is low, the other high, and a third wide; one catches\n    at a word and a simile; another is no longer sensible of what is said\n    in opposition to him, being entirely absorbed in his own notions,\n    engaged in following his own course, and not thinking of answering\n    you; another, finding himself weak, fears all, refuses all, and, at\n    the very beginning, confounds the subjects, or, in the very height of\n    the dispute, stops short, and grows silent; by a peevish ignorance\n    affecting a proud contempt, or an unseasonable modest desire to shun\n    debate....\"\n\n6. The contrary defect, namely, a sycophantic amiability, which approves\nof everything and admires everything: example, the _Philinte_ of Moliere.\n\nBesides these different illusions which are due to ourselves and our own\nweaknesses, there are others engendered from without, or at least from the\ndivers aspects under which things present themselves to us:\n\n=151. Illusions arising from objects.=--1. The mixture of the true and the\nfalse, of good and evil which we see in things, is cause that we often\nconfound them. Thus do the good qualities of the persons we esteem cause\nus to approve their defects, and _vice versa_. Now, it is precisely in\nthis judicious separation of good from evil that a correct mind shows\nitself.\n\n2. Illusions arising from eloquence and flowery rhetoric.\n\n3. Ill-natured interpretations of people's peculiar views founded on mere\nappearances or hearsay; as, for example: such a one goes with doubtful\ncharacters, _ergo_, he is a bad character himself; such another associates\nwith free-thinkers, _ergo_, he is a free-thinker likewise; a third\ncriticises the government, _ergo_, he is a rebel; he approves its acts,\n_ergo_, he is a courtier, etc., etc.\n\n4. False deductions drawn from a few accidental occurrences; as for\ninstance: medicine does not cure all diseases, hence it cures none; there\nare frivolous women, hence all women are frivolous; there are hypocrites,\nhence piety is nothing but hypocrisy.\n\n5. Error of judging of bad or good advice from subsequent events. As for\nexample: Such or such an event followed upon such and such advice, hence\nit was good--it was bad.\n\n6. Sophistry of authority. It consists in accepting men's opinions on the\nstrength of certain qualities they may possess, although these qualities\nmay have nothing to do with the matter in hand. For instance, by reason of\ntheir age, or piety, or, what is worse, of wealth and influence. Certainly\nwe do not exactly say in so many words: such a one has a hundred pounds\nincome, and must therefore be right; but there is nevertheless something\nsimilar going on in our minds, which runs away with our judgment without\nour being conscious of it.\n\nIn pointing out these various dangers upon which good judgment and upright\nreasoning are often wrecked, we indicate sufficiently the rules which\nought to serve in the education of the mind: for it is enough to be warned\nagainst such errors, and be endowed with a certain amount of correct\njudgment, to recognize and avoid them.\n\n=152. Prudence.=--From the faculty of judging and having an opinion about\nthings, let us pass on to the third quality of the mind, namely: prudence,\nwhich consists, as Aristotle informs us, in deliberating well before doing\nanything, and which is the art of well discerning our interest in the\nthings concerning us, and the interest of others in the things concerning\nthem.\n\nThere are then two sorts of prudence: personal prudence, which is nothing\nmore than self-interest well understood, and civil or disinterested\nprudence, which applies to the interests of others; thus, a prudent\ngeneral, a prudent notary, a prudent minister, are not only prudent in\ntheir own interests, but for that of others. Prudence from this point of\nview is then but a duty toward others. As to personal prudence, it may be\nasked how far it is a question of morals, and whether it is not excluded\nfrom them by the very principle of morals, which is duty. But we have\nalready solved that difficulty. Because prudence is not all virtue, it\ndoes not follow that it is not _a_ virtue. Certainly, we are too naturally\ninclined to seek our own interest, to make it necessary to set it down as\na duty. But in case of struggle between self-interest and passion,[118]\nself-interest takes sometimes the character of duty. This is clear enough.\nInterest, if properly understood, represents general interest; and\npassion, private interest. To yield to passion, is to satisfy at a given\nmoment, and for a very short time, one of our desires only. Prudence, on\nthe contrary, pleads the cause of the general interest of the entire man,\nand for all his life. Man may be represented (as Plato has represented\nhim) figuratively as a city, a republic, a world; it has been said that he\nis a microcosm (little world). This little world represents in miniature\nthe harmony of the great world. The individual to whom the government of\nthis little world is intrusted, and who stands in regard to himself as\nProvidence stands in regard to the universe, should not favor a part of it\nat the expense of the rest. Prudence is then the virtue by means of which\nman governs the affairs of the little State of which he is the king.\nPrudence, moreover, is nothing more than foresight--that is to say, the\nfaculty of foreseeing what is coming, of drawing from the past,\nconsequences for the future, and acting conformably to the lessons of\nexperience. Now, it is especially by this that man is distinguished from\nthe animal: it is by this that he is capable of progress. He owes it then\nto himself to act according to the principles of reason, and not according\nto brute instincts.\n\nAnother difficulty of greater import, is that prudence does not represent\na special virtue, but is nothing more than a common name given to several\nparticular virtues. Thus, prudence being defined \"the discernment between\nthe useful and the hurtful,\" it may be said that discernment, in point of\nsensual pleasures, will be called moderation or temperance; in point of\nriches, economy; that true courage holding the mean between temerity and\ncowardice, is necessarily accompanied by prudence; we have seen that\nscience itself must learn how to keep within bounds, and this also is a\nsort of prudence. We shall find therefore that prudence has not, like\nother virtues, a property of its own. It is in reality nothing more than a\nmode common to all personal virtues, each presenting two standpoints to be\nconsidered from: 1, from the standpoint of personal dignity, which is the\nhighest principle; 2, from the standpoint of a proper self-interest,\nwhich, subordinate to the first, is a secondary and relative standpoint.\n\nHowever, applied in individual cases, we will give here a few of the rules\nconcerning prudence in general:\n\n1. It is not enough to attend to what good or evil the present moment may\npresent; we should also examine what the natural consequences of this good\nor evil will be, so that, comparing the present with the future and\nbalancing the one with the other, we may see the result beforehand.\n\n2. It is unreasonable to seek a good which will inevitably be followed by\na greater evil.\n\n3. Nothing is more reasonable than to suffer an evil which is certain to\nbe followed by a greater good.\n\n4. One should prefer a greater good to a lesser, and conversely so in the\ncase of evils.\n\n5. It is not necessary to be fully certain in regard to great goods or\nevils, and probability is sufficient to induce a reasonable person to\ndeprive himself of some lesser goods, or to suffer some slight evils, in\nview of acquiring much greater goods, or avoiding worse evils.[119]\n\n=154. Duties relative to telling the truth.--Veracity and falsehood.=--It\nis in the nature of man to express his thoughts by signs of various kinds,\nand oftenest by words. What is the law which is to regulate the relations\nbetween words and thoughts? Are we to regard words as arbitrary means\nserving indifferently to express any kind of thought, or as having no\nother end than to express our own particular thought, the same, namely,\nwhich comes to us at the moment of speaking? Common sense solves this\nquestion by esteeming in the highest degree those who use speech only to\nexpress their thought, and despising those who use it to deceive. This\nsort of virtue is called _veracity_, and its opposite is _falsehood_.\n\nFalsehood is generally regarded among men as only a violation of the duty\ntoward others. It is not from this standpoint we are going to consider it\nhere. Unquestionably, one should injure no one in any way, no more by a\nfalsehood than otherwise. But for a falsehood to be harmless, does it\nfollow that it is not bad? The scholastics distinguished two kinds of\nfalsehoods: the _malicious_ falsehood, with intent to deceive, and the\n_verbal_ falsehood, which consists in mere words, and does not spring from\nany wish to do harm (as, for example, the falsehood of the physician who\ndeceives his patient). But such distinctions should not be admitted.\nFalsehood need not be malicious to be bad: it is bad of itself, whatever\nbe its consequences. There remains then to know what is to be done in\ncases of conflict between our duties, and if moral law does not in certain\ncases relent? Even though it did, it would not suffice to authorize the\ndistinction between two kinds of falsehoods. What precisely constitutes a\nfalsehood is to be verbal--that is to say, to employ speech to express the\ncontrary of truth. Whether malice enters into it or not, this is an\naccident which has nothing to do with the essence of falsehood; it may\naggravate or attenuate it, certainly, but it does not constitute it.\n\nTo well understand the moral evil which resides in falsehood one must\ntake it at its source--that is to say, distinguish with Kant between\n_inner_ and _outward_ falsehood: the first whereby one lies to himself,\nnamely, in lacking in sincerity in regard to himself; the second whereby\none lies to others.\n\nThe human mind is naturally constituted for knowing the truth: truth is\nits object and its end. A mind that has not truth for its object is no\nmind. Whosoever uses his mind to satisfy his inclinations undoubtedly\ndebases his mind, but he does not pervert it; but he who uses his mind to\nmake himself or others believe the contrary to the truth, perverts and\nruins his mind. He then perverts and destroys one of the most excellent\ngifts of his nature, and fails thereby in one of the strictest and most\nclearly defined duties.\n\nIt may be asked whether it is possible for man to really lie to himself,\nand if it is not rather a contradiction in terms. One can, in fact,\nunderstand how a man may be mistaken, but then he does not know that he is\nmistaken; it is an error, but no lie; if, on the contrary, he knows that\nhe is mistaken, then for that very reason is he no longer mistaken; so\nthat it would seem that there can be no lying to one's self.\n\nAnd yet popular psychology, the subtlest of all, because it is formed in\nthe presence of real facts, and under the true teachings of experience\n(whilst scientific psychology is always more or less artificial), this\nnatural psychology, which sums up the experience of the whole of humanity,\nhas always affirmed that man could voluntarily deceive himself,\nconsequently lie to himself. The most ordinary case of inward falsehood is\nwhen man employs sophisms--that is to say, seeks reasons wherewith to\nsmother the cry of his conscience; or when he tries to persuade himself\nthat he has no other motive in view than moral good, whilst, in fact, he\nonly acts from fear of punishment, or from any other interested motive.\n\n    \"To take, through love of self, an intention for a fact, because it\n    has for its object a good end in itself, is again,\" says Kant, \"a\n    defect of another kind. It is a weakness similar to that of the lover\n    who, desirous to see nothing but good qualities in the woman he\n    loves,[120] shuts his eyes to the most obvious defects.\"\n\nThe inward lie is then an unpardonable weakness, if not a real baseness,\nand we must conclude from this that it is the same with the outward\nlie--the lie, namely, which expresses itself in words.\n\nHere it may be objected that speech is not an integrant part of the mind,\nthat it is only an accident, that whatever use we may make of speech we do\nnot destroy thereby the principle of intelligence, for I may use my mind\nto discover and possess myself of truth, even though I should not make\nknown the same to others, or make them believe otherwise than I think.\nFrom this standpoint falsehood would still remain a sin as a violation of\nthe duty toward others, though not as a shortcoming in regard to one's\nself.\n\nBut this would be a very false analysis of the psychological fact called\ncommunication of thought. Speech is never wholly independent of thought.\nThe very fact that I speak, implies that I think my speech: there is an\ninner affirmation required. I cannot make sophisms to deceive men without\nhaving first inwardly combined these sophisms through the faculty of\nthinking which is in me. I think then of one thing and another at the same\ntime; I think at the same time of both the true and the false, and I am\nconscious of this contradiction. I employ then knowingly my mind in\ndestroying itself, and I fall, consequently, into the vice pointed out\nabove.\n\nKant gives another deduction than ours to prove that falsehood is a\nviolation of duty toward one's self. But his deduction is, perhaps, not\nsufficiently severe:\n\n    \"A man who does not himself believe what he tells another, is of less\n    worth than is a simple _thing_; for one may put the usefulness of a\n    simple thing to some account, whilst the liar is not so much a real\n    man as a deceiving appearance of a man.... Once the major principle of\n    veracity shaken, dissimulation soon runs into all our relations with\n    others.\"\n\nThis deduction is very ingenious; but it lacks strictness, inasmuch as it\nis based on the use a man may be made of, which principle is contrary to\nthe general principle of Kant's morals, and also because it rests on the\nstandpoint of social interest, which lies outside the point in question.\n\n=155. Discretion.=--It is evident that the duty not to lie, does not carry\nwith it, as its consequence, the duty of telling all. Silence must not be\nconfounded with dissimulation, and no one is obliged to tell all he has in\nhis mind; far from it; we are here before another duty toward ourselves,\nwhich stands in some respect in opposition to the preceding one, namely,\n_discretion_. The babbler who speaks at all times and under all\ncircumstances, and he who tells what he should not, must not be confounded\nwith the loyal and sincere man, who only tells what he thinks, but does\nnot necessarily tell all he thinks.\n\nSilence is obviously a strict duty toward others, when the matter in\nquestion has been confided to us under the seal of secrecy. But it may\nalso be said that it is a duty toward ourselves, and for the following\nreasons:\n\n1. To use one's mind, as does the babbler, in giving utterance to barren\nand frivolous thoughts, is degrading: not all that accidentally crosses\none's mind is worthy of being expressed; and it is simply heedlessness to\nfix one's mind on fleeting things, and give them a certain fixity and\nvalue through words; 2, there are, on the other hand, other thoughts, too\nprecious, too personal, too elevated, to be indiscreetly exposed to the\ncuriosity of fools or indifferent persons. Thus will it be heroic,\nunquestionably, to confess one's faith before the executioner, if there is\nneed; but it is not necessary to proclaim it all round when there is no\noccasion for it: I believe such and such a thing; I belong to such or such\na church; I hold such and such a doctrine; I belong to such or such a\nparty, unless, of course, there is an interest in spreading one's belief;\nand even then it will be necessary to choose the right place and the right\nmoment. As to using discretion in regard to our sentiments, our moral\nqualities, or our defects, it is in one instance a duty of modesty and in\nanother one of personal dignity.\n\n=156. Perjury.=--If falsehood is in general an abasement of human dignity,\nit is a still greater abasement when it is of the kind called _perjury_,\nand a transgression which might be defined as a double falsehood.\n\nPerjury is of two sorts: it either means swearing falsely or violating a\nformer oath. In order to understand the meaning of perjury, one must know\nwhat constitutes an oath.\n\nThe oath is an affirmation where God is taken as a witness of the truth\none is supposed to utter. The oath consists, then, in some respect, in\ninvoking God in our favor, in making him speak in our name. We, so to say,\nattest that God himself, who reads the heart, would, if he were called in\ntestimony, speak as we speak ourselves. The oath indicates that one\naccepts in advance the chastisements God does not fail to inflict upon\nthose who invoke his name in vain.\n\nIt will be seen by this how perjury, namely, false swearing, may be called\na double lie. For perjury is a lie, first in affirming a thing that is\nfalse, and second, in affirming that God would bear testimony if he were\npresent. Let us add that there is here a sort of sacrilege which consists\nin our making God, in some respects, the accomplice of our lie.\n\nIt is true that men, in taking an oath, forget often its sacred and\nreligious character, and, consequently, there is not always a sacrilegious\nintention in their false swearing. But it may still be said that perjury\nis a double lie; for in every oath taken, even though stripped of all\nreligious character, there is always a double attestation: first we affirm\na thing, and next we affirm that our affirmation is true. It is thus that\nin that form of speech long since worn out, which is called _word of\nhonor_, we give our word and engage our honor to attest that such or such\naffirmation is true. To break this word is, then, to lie twice, for it is\naffirming a false affirmation. It is for this reason that falsehood,\nwhich is always culpable, must, in this case, be regarded as particularly\ndishonorable.\n\nAs to perjury, considered as a violation of a former oath, it belongs to\nthe class of promise or word-breaking, which is especially contrary to the\nduty toward others. Yet, even in this kind of falsehood, there is also a\nviolation of personal duty; for he who breaks a promise (with or without\noath) would seem to indicate by it that he did not intend keeping his\npromise, which is destructive to the very idea of a promise; it is then,\nonce more, using speech, not as a necessary symbol of thought, but simply\nas a means of obtaining what we want, reserving to ourselves the liberty\nto change our minds when the moment comes for fulfilling our promise. This\nis abasing our intelligence, and making it serve as a means to satisfy our\nwants, whilst it belongs to an order far superior to these very wants.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nDUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =Duties relative to the will.--Strength of soul.=--All duty in general\n    is relative to the will: for there is not any which does not require\n    the control of the will over the inclinations.\n\n    Virtue, especially when considered from the latter standpoint,--the\n    control of the will over the inclinations,--is _strength of soul_, or\n    _courage_.\n\n    Of courage and its different forms: _military courage_; _civic\n    courage_; _patience_, _moderation_ in prosperity; _equanimity_, etc.\n\n    Of anger and its different kinds.--Generous anger.\n\n    Duty of _personal dignity_.--_Respect for one's self._ _True pride_\n    and _false pride_.--Of a _just esteem of one's self_.--Of _modesty_.\n\n    =Duties relative to sentiment.=--Have we any duties in regard to our\n    sensibilities?--Kant's objection: no one can love at will. Reply.--To\n    distinguish _sensibility_ from _sentimentality_.\n\n\n=157. Duties relative to the will.--Strength of soul.=--One may justly ask\nwhether there are any duties relating particularly to the will: for it\nwould seem that all duties are generally duties of the will. There is no\none that does not require the control of the will over the inclinations;\nand if we say that it is a duty to cultivate and exercise this control, is\nit not as if we said that it is a duty to learn to do our duty? But why\ncould we not also suppose a third duty, commanding us to observe the\nformer, and so _ad infinitum_?\n\nWe may then say that the duty to exercise one's will and triumph over the\npassions, is nothing more than duty _per se_, the duty _par excellence_,\nof which all the other duties are but parts. This virtue, by which the\nsoul commands its passions and does not allow itself to be subjugated by\nany of them, may be called courage or strength of soul. Courage thus\nunderstood is not only a virtue; it is virtue itself.[121] In fact, what\nis temperance, if it is not a certain kind of courage before the pleasures\nof the senses? what economy, if not courage before the temptations of\nfortune? what veracity, if not the courage to tell the truth under all\ncircumstances? what justice and benevolence, if not the courage to\nsacrifice self-interest to the interest of others? We have already (page\n87) made a similar observation in regard to prudence and wisdom, namely,\nthat virtue in general is both wisdom and courage: for it presupposes at\nthe same time strength and light. As strength, it is courage, energy,\ngreatness of soul; as light, it is prudence and wisdom. All special\nvirtues would, then, strictly speaking, be only factors, or component\nparts, of those two.\n\n=158. Courage.=--Yet if courage, in its most general sense, is virtue\nitself, usage has given it a special meaning which defines it in a more\nparticular manner, and makes of it a certain distinct virtue, on the same\nconditions as all the others. As of all the assaults which besiege us in\nlife, death appears to be the most terrible and generally the most\ndreaded, it is not to be wondered then that this kind of energy which\nconsists in braving death and, consequently, all that may lead to it,\nnamely, peril, has been designated by a particular name. Courage,\ntherefore, is the sort of virtue which braves peril and even death. Then,\nby extension, the same word was applied to every manifestation of strength\nof soul before misfortune, misery, grief. A man can be brave in poverty,\nin slavery, under humiliation even--that is, a humiliation which is due to\noutward circumstances, and which he has not deserved.\n\nThis courageous virtue seems to have been the particular feature of the\nancients, and by dint of its excellence, still retains its hold on us,\ndazzling our imagination, as a privileged prestige. Yet is it only an\nillusion, and modern times are as rich in heroes as were ancient times:\nonly we pay less attention to it perhaps; but, whether it be real\nsuperiority in this kind of virtue, or literary reminiscences and habits\nof education, nothing will ever erase that lively picture of ancient\nheroism so celebrated under the name of Plutarch's heroes, and which has\nalways captivated all great imaginations. Stoicism, that original\nphilosophy of the Greek and Roman world, is above all the philosophy of\ncourage. Its character proper is the strength to resist one's self, to\nhold pain, death, all the accidents of humanity, in contempt. Its model is\nHercules, the god of strength; all the great men of antiquity, whether\nconsciously or not, were stoics: such were especially the ancient Roman\ncitizens; they were austere, inexorable; slaves to duty and discipline,\nfaithful to their oath, to their country;--Brutus, Regulus, Scaevola,\nDecius, and thousands more like them. When stoicism came in contact with\nthe last great Romans, it found material all ready for its doctrines; it\nthen became the philosophy of the last republicans, the last heroes of a\nworld which was fast disappearing.\n\nThe courage which most impresses men is _military courage_.\n\n    \"The most honorable deaths occur in war,\" says Aristotle, \"for in war\n    the danger is the greatest and most honorable. The public honors that\n    are awarded in states and by monarchs attest this.\n\n    \"Properly, then, he who in the case of an honorable death, and under\n    circumstances close at hand which cause death, is fearless, may be\n    called courageous; and the dangers of war are, more than any others,\n    of this description.\"[122]\n\nIn looking at it from this somewhat exclusive standpoint, Aristotle\nrefuses to call courageous those who brave sickness and poverty; \"for it\nis possible,\" he says, \"for cowards, in the perils of war, to bear with\nmuch firmness the losses of fortune;\" nor does he allow to be called\ncourageous \"him who firmly meets the strokes of the whip he is threatened\nwith.\"\n\nThis is but a question of name and degree. Wherever there are any evils\nto brave, the firmness which meets and bears these evils can be called\ncourage; on the other hand, the sense of the word can, if preferred, be\nrestricted to military perils; but what Aristotle has most justly defined,\nand of which he makes a very subtle analysis, is the difference between\napparent and true courage. Thus the courage of constraint and\nnecessity--as, for instance, that of soldiers who would be mercilessly\nkilled, if they retreated before the enemy--is not true courage, for one\ncannot be brave through fear. Nor should anger be confounded with courage:\nthis were but the courage of wild beasts obeying a blind impulse under the\nsting of pain. At that rate, the donkeys even, when hungry, would be\nbrave. That which determines true courage is the sentiment of honor, not\npassion. We should neither call brave him who is so only because he feels\nhimself the strongest, like the drunkard full of confidence in the\nbeginning, but who runs away when he does not succeed. For this reason is\nthere truer courage in preserving one's intrepidity and calm in sudden\ndangers, than in dangers long anticipated.[123] Finally, ignorance cannot\nbe called courage either: to brave a danger one is ignorant of, is only to\nbe apparently brave.\n\nAristotle finds also in courage an excellent opportunity to apply his\ncelebrated theory of the golden mean. Courage is for him a medium between\ntemerity and cowardice. But it is not the too much or too little in danger\nwhich determines what we ought to call courage. There are cases where one\nmay be obliged to brave the greatest possible danger without being for\nthat rash; other cases where, on the contrary, one has the right to avoid\nthe least possible peril without being for that a coward. The true\nprinciple is that one should brave necessary perils, be they ever so\ngreat; and likewise avoid useless perils, be they ever so slight. Yet, the\nquestion of degree should not be wholly overlooked. There are some perils\nwhich, without being necessary, it is useful to brave (were it but to\ntrain one's self for greater ones). Such are, for example, the dangers\nconnected with bodily exercises. Peril and utility must, of course, be\ncompared with each other; for example, he who from considerations of\nutility would wish to avoid all kinds of perils, will be wanting in\ncourage; and he who, on the contrary, would lightly brave an extreme\nperil, will naturally deserve to be called rash. Thus must we first\nconsider the nature of the peril, and, secondly, the degree.\n\n=159. Civic courage.=--Although military courage is the most brilliant and\npopular form of courage, it may be asked whether there is not a higher and\nnobler form still, namely, civic courage.\n\nCicero, who, to say the truth, was not sufficiently disinterested in the\nmatter, persists in showing that civic virtues are equal to military\nvirtues, and demand an equal amount of courage and energy.[124] A firm and\nhigh-souled man, he says, has no trouble in difficult circumstances, to\npreserve his presence of mind and the free use of his reason, to provide\nin advance against events, and to be always ready for action when\nnecessary.\n\nThis is a sort of courage more difficult perhaps than the one required in\na hand-to-hand struggle with the enemy. Civic life, besides, has itself\ntrials which often imperil one's existence.\n\nAntiquity has left us innumerable and admirable examples of civic courage\nagainst tyranny. Helvidius Priscus was thought to look with disapproval\nupon Vespasian's administration. The latter sent him word to keep away\nfrom the Senate: \"It is in thy power,\" replied Helvidius, \"to forbid my\nbelonging to the Senate, but as long as I belong to it, I shall attend\nit.\"--\"Go, then,\" said the emperor, \"but hold thy tongue.\"--\"If thou ask\nme no questions I will make thee no answers.\"--\"But I must ask thee\nquestions.\"--\"And I must answer thee what I think just.\"--\"If thou dost, I\nshall have thee put to death.\"--\"When have I said to thee that I was\nimmortal?\" But nothing ever surpassed the intrepidity of Socrates, either\nbefore the Thirty Tyrants who wished to interdict him free speech,[125] or\nbefore the people's tribunals which condemned him to death:\n\n    Plato in his _Apology_ makes him say: \"If you were to tell me now,\n    'Socrates, we will not listen to Anytus: we send thee back absolved on\n    condition that thou ceasest philosophizing and givest up thy\n    accustomed researches,' I should answer you without hesitation, 'O\n    Athenians, I honor and love you, but I shall obey God before I obey\n    you.'\"\n\nThen, after having been condemned to death, he closes with these admirable\nwords:\n\n    \"I bear my accusers, and those who have condemned me, no resentment,\n    although they did not seek my good, but rather to injure me. But I\n    shall ask of them one favor: I beg you, when my children shall be\n    grown up, to persecute them as I have myself persecuted you, if you\n    see that they prefer riches to virtue.... If you grant us this favor,\n    I and my children shall have but to praise your justice. But it is\n    time we go each our way: I to die, you to live. Which of us has the\n    better part, you or I? This is known to none but God.\"\n\n=160. Patience.=--One of the most difficult forms of courage is that which\nconsists not only in braving or repelling a threatening danger (which\npresupposes some effort and activity), but in bearing without anger,\nwithout any sign of vain revolt, the ills and pains of life: this is\n_patience_. There is a kind of patience which is but a part of our duty in\nregard to others: one must learn to bear a great deal from others, they\nhaving often a great deal to bear from us. But we speak here of that inner\npatience which is our strength in grief; the patience of the invalid in\nhis daily sufferings; that of the poor man in his poverty; the patience,\nin short, which all must exercise amidst the innumerable and inevitable\naccidents of life. It is, above all, that sort of virtue which the Stoics\nmeant when they said with Epictetus: \"You should not wish things to happen\nas you want them; but you should wish them as they do happen.\" A maxim\nwhich Descartes translated substantially, saying: \"My maxim is rather to\ntry to overcome myself than fortune, and rather to change my own wishes\nthan to change the order of the world.\" Which he explained by saying:\n\n    \"If we regard the goods which lie outside of us as unattainable as\n    those we are deprived of from our birth, we shall no more grieve at\n    not possessing them, than we should in not possessing the empires of\n    China or Mexico; and, making, as it is said, a virtue of necessity, we\n    shall not any more desire to be healthy when ill, or to be free when\n    in prison, than we desire now to have bodies of as incorruptible a\n    stuff as diamonds, or to have wings to fly with like birds.\"[126]\n\nIt is this kind of courage which at every moment of life is most in\nrequisition, and which is the rarest; for there will be found plenty of\nmen capable of braving death when the occasion presents itself; but to\nbear with resignation the inevitable and constantly renewed ills of human\nlife, is a virtue all the more rare as one is scarcely ever ashamed of its\nopposite vice. One would blush to fear peril, one does not blush for\nrebelling against destiny; one is willing to die if necessary, but not to\nbe thwarted. Yet will it be admitted that to succumb under the weight of\ndestiny, is a kind of cowardice. It is for this reason that it would be\njustly said that suicide is also a cowardly act; for whilst it is true\nthat it demands a certain physical courage, it is also true that the moral\ncourage which bears the ills of life is of a still higher order.\n\n    \"You take a journey to Olympia,\" says Epictetus, \"to behold the work\n    of Phidias, and each of you thinks it a misfortune to die without a\n    knowledge of such things; and will you have no inclination to see and\n    understand those works, for which there is no need to take a journey;\n    but which are ready and at hand, even to those who bestow no pains!\n    Will you never perceive what you are, or for what you were born, or\n    for what purpose you are admitted to behold this spectacle? But there\n    are in life some things unpleasant and difficult. And are there none\n    at Olympia? Are you not heated? Are you not crowded? Are you not\n    without good conveniences for bathing? Are you not wet through, when\n    it happens to rain? Do you not have uproar and noise, and other\n    disagreeable circumstances? But, I suppose, by comparing all these\n    with the merit of the spectacle, you support and endure them. Well,\n    and have you not received faculties by which you may support every\n    event? Have you not received greatness of soul? Have you not received\n    a manly spirit? Have you not received patience? What signifies to me\n    anything that happens, while my soul is above it? What shall\n    disconcert or trouble or appear grievous to me? Shall I not use my\n    powers to that purpose for which I received them; but lament and groan\n    at every casualty?\"[127]\n\nBut we should not confound true strength, true courage, true patience,\nwith false strength and ridiculous obstinacy.\n\n    \"An acquaintance of mine,\" says again Epictetus, \"had, for no reason,\n    determined to starve himself to death. I went the third day, and\n    inquired what was the matter. He answered: 'I am determined.'--'Well;\n    but what is your motive? For, if your determination be right, we will\n    stay, and assist your departure; but if unreasonable, change it.'--'We\n    ought to keep our determinations.'--'What do you mean, sir? Not all of\n    them; but such as are right. Else, if you should fancy that it is\n    night, if this be your principle, do not change, but persist and say,\n    \"We ought to keep to our determinations.\" 'What do you mean, sir? Not\n    to all of them. Why do you not begin by first laying the foundation,\n    inquiring whether your determination be a sound one, or not; and then\n    build your firmness and constancy upon it. For, if you lay a rotten\n    and crazy foundation, you must not build; since the greater and more\n    weighty the superstructure, the sooner will it fall. Without any\n    reason you are withdrawing from us, out of life, a friend, a\n    companion, a fellow-citizen both of the greater and the lesser city;\n    and while you are committing murder, and destroying an innocent\n    person, you say, \"We must keep to our determinations.\" Suppose, by any\n    means, it should ever come into your head to kill me; must you keep to\n    such a determination?'\n\n    \"With difficulty this person was, however, at last convinced; but\n    there are some at present, whom there is no convincing ... a fool will\n    neither bend nor break.\"[128]\n\n=161. Moderation.=--The ancients always associated with patience in\nadversity another kind of courage, no less rare and difficult, namely,\nmoderation in prosperity. It was for them, in some respects, one and the\nsame virtue, exercised in two opposite conditions, and this is what they\ncall _equanimity_.\n\n\"Now, during our prosperity,\" says Cicero, \"and while things flow\nagreeably to our desire, we ought, with great care, to avoid pride and\narrogance; for, as it discovers weakness not to bear adversity with\nequanimity, so also with prosperity. That equanimity, in every condition\nof life, is a noble attribute, and that uniform expression of countenance\nwhich we find recorded of Socrates, and also of Caius Laelius. Panaetius\ntells us, his scholar and friend, Africanus, used to say that as horses,\ngrown unruly by being in frequent engagements, are delivered over to be\ntamed by horse-breakers, thus men, who grow riotous and self-sufficient by\nprosperity, ought, as it were, to be exercised in the traverse[129] of\nreason and philosophy, that they may learn the inconstancy of human\naffairs and the uncertainty of fortune.[130]\n\nNothing occurs more frequently among the ancient poets and moralists than\nthis idea of the vicissitude of human things. The metaphor of Fortune's\nwheel, which sometimes lowers to the greatest depth those it raised\nhighest, is well known. We need scarcely dwell upon this commonplace\nsaying which has never, for an instant, ceased to be true; although the\nmore regular conditions of modern society have introduced more security\nand uniformity in life, at least for those who live wisely and with\nmoderation. Yet is no one secure against the changes of fortune; there are\nunexpected elevations as there are sudden falls; and firmness in either\nbad or good fortune will always be necessary.\n\n=162. Equality of temper; anger.=--To equality of temper or possession of\none's self, there is still another obligation attached: that of avoiding\nanger, a passion which the ancients with reason considered the principle\nof courage,[131] but which of itself is without any rules, and is more\nproper to beasts than men. Aristotle has described the irascible\ndisposition with great accuracy. He justly distinguishes two kinds of\nanger; one where a man is easily carried away, and as easily appeased\nagain, and the other where resentment is nursed and kept up for a long\ntime. The first is the irascible disposition; the second, the splenetic or\nvindictive disposition.\n\n    \"Irascible men,\" says Aristotle, \"are easily angered, with improper\n    objects, on improper occasions, and too much; but their anger quickly\n    ceases, and this is the best point in their character. And this is the\n    case with them, because they do not restrain their anger, but\n    retaliate openly and visibly, because of their impetuosity, and then\n    they become calm.--But the bitter are difficult to be appeased, and\n    retain their anger a long time, for they repress their rage; but there\n    comes a cessation, when they have retaliated; for revenge makes their\n    anger cease, because it produces pleasure instead of the previous\n    pain. But if they do not get revenge, they feel a weight of\n    disappointment: for, owing to its not showing itself, no one reasons\n    with them; and there is need of time for a man to digest his anger\n    within him. Persons of this character are very troublesome to\n    themselves, and to their best friends.\"[132]\n\nSeneca, in his treatise on _Anger_, has conclusively shown all the evils\nthis passion carries with it, and of which Horace justly said: \"Anger is a\nshort madness.\"\n\nYet, if anger is an evil, apathy, absolute indifference, is far from being\na good. Whilst there is a brutal and beastly anger, there is also a noble,\na _generous anger_, namely, that which is at the service of noble\nsentiments. Plato describes it in the following terms:\n\n\"When we are convinced that injustice has been done us, does it not plead\nthe cause of what appears to it to be just? Instead of allowing itself to\nbe overcome by hunger, by cold, by all sorts of ill-treatments, does it\nnot overcome them? It never ceases a moment to make generous efforts\ntoward obtaining satisfaction, and nothing but death depriving it of its\npower, or reason persuading or silencing it, as the shepherd silences his\ndog, can stop it.\"[133]\n\nAristotle also approves of this generous anger, and blames those with\nsouls too cold:\n\n    \"One can only call stupid those who cannot be aroused to anger about\n    things where real anger ought to be felt.... He who does not then get\n    angry appears insensible and ignorant of what just indignation means.\n    One might even believe him, since he has no feeling of courage, unable\n    to defend himself when necessary. But it is the cowardice of the\n    slave's to accept an insult and to allow his kin to be attacked with\n    impunity.\"[134]\n\nBut that which is not easy, as Aristotle remarks, is to find an exact and\nproper medium between apathy and violence:\n\n\"It is difficult to determine with accuracy the manner, the persons, the\noccasions, and the length of time for which one ought to be angry, and at\nwhat point one ceases to act rightly or wrongly. For he who transgresses\nthe limit a little is not blamed, whether it be on the side of excess or\ndeficiency: and we sometimes praise those who fall short, and call them\nmeek; and we call the irascible manly, as being able to govern ... the\ndecision must be left to particular cases, and to the moral sense.\"[135]\n\n=163. Personal dignity.=--A generous anger, as has been seen, has its\nprinciple in the sentiment of _personal dignity_, with which the _duty of\nself-respect_ is connected.\n\nMan's free will is what essentially constitutes the dignity of human\nnature, the moral personality. Man's duty toward himself as a moral\npersonality is then dependent upon his will.\n\nThis duty of self-respect, of the moral personality, has been admirably\nexpressed by Kant, and we can do no better than transcribe here the\npassage:\n\n\"Man, considered as an animal, is a being of but mediocre importance, and\nis not worth any more than other animals. His utility and worth is that of\nany marketable thing.--But, considered as a personality, he is priceless;\nhe is possessed of a _dignity_ which can claim the respect of all other\nreasonable creatures, and which allows him to measure himself with each of\nthem, and consider himself their equal.\n\n\"But this respect, which he has a right to exact of every other man, he\nshould not despoil himself of. He can, and should, therefore, estimate\nhimself both in ratio to his greatness and littleness, according as he\nconsiders himself a sensuous being (in his animal nature), or an\nintelligent being (in his moral nature). But as he should not only\nconsider himself as a person in general, but also as an individual man,\nhis lesser worth as animal-man should not impair the consciousness he has\nof his dignity as reasonable man, and he must hold on to the moral\nestimate he makes of himself as such. In other words, he should not pursue\nhis aims in a lowly and servile manner, as if he solicited favors: this\nwould be abdicating his dignity; he should always uphold within himself\nthe consciousness of the nobility of his moral faculties, for it is this\nestimate of one's self which constitutes the duty of man toward himself.\n\n\"The consciousness and conviction of our little moral worth, compared with\nwhat the law requires of us, is moral humility. The contrary consciousness\nand conviction, namely, the persuading ourselves, for want of this\ncomparison, that we are of very great worth, may be called the pride of\nvirtue.--To reject all claim to any moral worth whatsoever, in the hope of\nacquiring thereby a hidden worth, is a false moral humility and an\nabasement of the mind. To undervalue one's own moral worth for the purpose\nof obtaining thereby the favor of another (through hypocrisy or flattery,\nnamely), is also a false humility, and, moreover, an abasement of one's\npersonality. True humility should of necessity be the result of an exact\nand sincere comparison of one's self with the moral law (with its sanctity\nand severity). This duty relative to the human dignity in our personality\nmay be more or less clearly stated in the following precepts: Be no man's\nslave; let not your rights be trampled under foot; contract no debts for\nwhich you cannot give full security; accept no gifts which you can do\nwithout; be neither a parasite, nor a flatterer, nor a beggar; complaints\nand lamentations, even a single cry wrung from us by bodily pain, are\nthings unworthy of us (still more unworthy if the pain is deserved).\nTherefore is a criminal's death ennobled by the firmness with which he\nmeets it. Can he who makes himself a worm complain if he be crushed?\"[136]\n\n=164. True and false pride.=--We should, however, not confound a true and\nnoble _pride_, without which man is but a thing and a slave, with a\npassion which looks like it, but which is but its phantom; I mean _false\npride_. True pride is the just feeling man has of his moral dignity, and\nwhich interdicts him to humble the human personality in others, or to\nallow it to be humbled in himself. False pride is the exaggerated feeling\nwe entertain in regard to our own advantages and superiority over other\nmen. True pride is related to what there is sacred and divine in us; false\npride, on the contrary, feeds and grows fat on the trifling and petty\nconcerns of our mere individuality. There is in man, the stoics said, an\ninner god: the human essence, namely, of which the individual is but the\ndepository, and which he ought to keep sacred and holy as a divine host.\nThis respect for the human personality, religious morality calls holiness;\nworldly morality calls it honor; it is one and the same principle under\ndifferent forms; it is the idea of something sacred in us which we must\nneither stain nor debase. True pride rests then on what there is common\namong all men, on what makes them equals. False pride, on the contrary,\nregards chiefly our peculiarities, and what we call more especially our\nown. True pride asks for nothing more than to be free from oppression;\nfalse pride wants to oppress others. True pride is noble; false pride,\nbrutal and insolent. Of course it has its degrees according to the nature\nof the advantages of which it boasts. The pride, for example, which\nboasts of material advantages, is the grossest of all; pride of birth and\nancestry is more pardonable, but if he who is proud of them shows it too\nmuch he becomes disgusting, and true pride will have a right to protect\nitself against that kind of false pride. He, again, who is proud of his\nintellectual advantages is less blameworthy than the former, for these\nadvantages belong, at least, to his personality; but as they are not due\nto the man, and as, however great they may be, they have still their weak\nsides, this also is an inexcusable pride. The pride which might appear to\nbe the most pardonable is the pride of virtue, if there were not in some\nrespects a sort of contradiction of terms in drawing advantage and honor\nfrom a good the essentiality of which consists in self-forgetfulness and\nthe pure and simple observance of the law.\n\nThe diminutive of false pride is _vanity_. False pride looks to great\nthings, at least to such as appear great to men; vanity boasts of the\nsmallest. False pride is insulting; vanity wounding. The one is odious,\nthe other ridiculous. The lowest order of vanity is _foppishness_, or the\nvanity of external advantages--the person, the toilet, superficial\naccomplishments. This diminutive of false pride is one of the most\npitiable of passions, and should be combated by manly efforts.\n\n=165. Modesty.=--The virtue opposed to false pride, and which, besides, is\nnowise irreconcilable with true pride, is modesty, a correct feeling,\nnamely, of one's just worth. Morality does not forbid us a proper estimate\nof our merits; these merits, besides, having but a relative value, and\nrepresenting but faintly the high ideal we should always keep before our\neyes. To fail to appreciate the advantages we owe to nature, is often\nindicative only of laziness and apathy. He who depreciates himself is not\ndisposed to turn what there is in him to account. This self-depreciation,\nin order to avoid the responsibility of using his faculties, is often but\na subterfuge and the sophistry of indolence. There is nothing contrary to\nduty in the acknowledgment of our worth, so long as we do not boast of\nit, but thank Providence for it, and put to use the gifts it has conferred\non us. If, on the contrary, the question is of virtues we have acquired by\nour own efforts, the satisfaction we experience from it is but the just\nrecompense of these efforts; and such a feeling could not be condemned;\nfor such condemnation would be a virtual protest against the moral\nconscience, which consists as much in the satisfaction we derive from good\nactions as in the regrets which accompany the bad.\n\nUnquestionably, \"the left hand should not know what the right hand doeth;\"\nwhich means that we should not everywhere proclaim aloud our good actions,\nand that we should as much as possible forget them. But this forgetting\nshould not go so far as indifference; for our morality depends upon our\nconsciousness.\n\nBut if it is lawful for man to rejoice over his natural or acquired gifts,\nit is on the condition that he do not exaggerate their import: this is\neasy enough if we compare ourselves to those who are still better gifted\nthan we are, or think of what we should and could do with greater efforts,\nmore courage, better will; or in recognizing the narrow scope, limits, and\ndefects of these gifts, or in keeping, above all, our eyes more open to\nour faults than our good qualities. Beware of the beam of the Gospel.\n\nModesty should not only be external, but internal also; externally, it is\nabove all a duty we owe others, whom we should not humble by our superior\nadvantages; internally, it is a duty to ourselves, for we should not\ndeceive ourselves about our own worth. One is sometimes modest externally\nwithout being so internally, and conversely. I may pretend before men to\nhave no great opinion of myself, whilst internally I am full of conceit:\nthis is sheer hypocrisy. I may, on the other hand, externally attribute to\nmyself advantages which my conscience altogether denies: this is bragging.\nOne should be modest both inwardly and outwardly, in words and actions.\nBut how, in what manner, and to what degree must we be modest? It is\nimpossible in matters so delicate to establish definite rules, and the\ndecision must be left to our own judgment.\n\nThere is another virtue to be distinguished from modesty, namely,\n_humility_. Humility should not be an abasement; for it is never a virtue\nin man to lower himself. But, even as dignity and true pride are virtues\nwhich spring from a proper sense of human greatness, so humility is a\nvirtue which springs from a proper sense of human weakness. Remember that\nthou art a man and do not degrade thyself: this is self-respect. Remember\nthat thou art but a man and do not allow thyself to indulge in vain pride;\nthis is humility. Modesty relates to the individual; humility to human\nnature in general. As to that false humility which consists in lowering\none's self before men unnecessarily, and without any occasion for it (like\nTartufe, for example:\n\n  \"Yes, brother, I am a sinner and a wretch!\"[137]),\n\nit is but the falsehood of virtue, and should be rejected by all manly and\ngenerous morality.\n\n=166. Duties relative to sentiment.=--A last point which should not be\nneglected is this: has man, as far as he is endowed with moral\nsensibility--that is to say, as far as he is a susceptible being--capable\nof love, enthusiasm, affection, any duties toward himself?\n\nKant maintains that love cannot be an object of duty; that no one is\nobliged to love: that sentiment is phenomenal and belongs to the order of\nnature, and can neither be produced nor prevented; that, consequently, it\nhas nothing to do with morals. The only love admitted by Kant in morals is\nwhat he calls _practical_ love: namely, the love which consists in actions\nand does others good, or any kind of sentiment accompanying benevolence,\nprovided it be a disinterested sentiment. \"All other love,\" he says in his\nodd and energetic language, \"is _pathological_,\" that is, sickly.\n\nKant, no doubt, is right if he means that false sentimentality or feeble\nsoftness,[138] which the poet Gilbert has so well described, and which the\nenervating literature of the latter part of the eighteenth century made so\nridiculous. We should take care not to fall into an effeminate tenderness\nor a silly philanthropy which sacrifices justice to a mawkish sensibility.\nBut all danger and defects set aside, there still remains the question\nwhether we owe anything to our own heart, and whether the only thing\ndirectly commanded us, be action.\n\nIt is quite true that it is not an effect of our will if our heart is more\nor less tender, more or less sympathetic. Nature has made some souls\ngentle and amiable, others austere and cold, others again heroic and hard,\netc.; the moralists should not forget these differences, and the degree of\nsensibility obligatory on all cannot be absolutely determined. But there\nare two facts which certainly oblige us to put some restrictions upon\nKant's too harsh doctrine. The first is that moral emotion (affection,\nenthusiasm for the beautiful, for our country) is never wholly absent in\nany human soul; the second is that sensibility does not altogether lie\noutside our will. We can smother our good feelings as we can smother our\nevil passions; we can also cultivate them, develop them, encourage them;\ngive them a greater or less share in our lives, by placing ourselves in\ncircumstances which favor them. For example, say such or such a person is\nbut slightly endowed with sensibility or sympathy for the sufferings of\nthe wretched; yet is it impossible that he be entirely deprived of them:\nlet him overcome his repugnance and indifference; let him visit the poor,\nput himself at the service of human misery; the dormant sympathy will\ninevitably awaken in his heart. By this fact alone will he be enabled to\ndo good with more ease, and raise his soul to a higher degree of\nperfection and beauty.\n\nNot only should sentiment not be excluded from virtue, as Kant in his\nexcessive austerity demands, but it should be considered its ornament and\nbloom. \"The virtuous man,\" says Aristotle, \"is he who takes pleasure in\ndoing virtuous acts.\" One should therefore endeavor to awaken in one's\nself, if one has not yet experienced it, or develop, if one has already\nexperienced it, the noble pleasure which accompanies great sentiments. On\nthe other hand, and for the same reason that it is a duty for man to\ndevelop within him, in the limits of the possible, the share of\nsensibility he may have received from nature, it is also his duty not to\nencourage this same disposition too much if he should be inclined this\nway. For sensibility should only be an auxiliary and a stimulant to\nvirtue; it should never take its place: otherwise it will lead us astray.\nAn exaggerated sensibility often smothers the voice of justice, enervates\nus, and deprives us of the robust courage we need in life. There is a\nreasonable limit which tact and experience alone can teach us. Morality\ncan only give advice and directions. More precise rules are impossible,\nand would be ridiculous. There is no moral thermometer to indicate the\ndegree of heart-heat each of us is allowed and is obliged to have. Let us\nonly say, that in so delicate a matter, it is better to have too much\nsensibility than too little.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nRELIGIOUS MORALITY.--RELIGIOUS RIGHTS AND DUTIES.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    Are there duties toward God?\n\n    =Duties toward God.--Analysis of the religious sentiment.=--Two\n    elements: 1, the sentiment of the infinite; 2, the need of hope and\n    consolation.\n\n    Can sentiment become a duty?\n\n    =Indirect duties toward God.=--Piety united with all the acts of life:\n    1, obedience; 2, resignation; 3, love of God united to that of man.\n\n    =The idea of God in morals.=--God the surety of the moral law.\n\n    =Religious society.=--Fenelon and Epictetus.\n\n    =Religious rights.=--Liberty of conscience: liberty of opinion, liberty\n    of worship, liberty of propagandism.\n\n\nIt is not our purpose to speak here of the different forms of religious\nthought among men: this is the special domain of conscience; but among all\nthese forms, is there no common ground which may be said to belong to the\nhuman soul, and which is found to be the same with the sages of pagan\nantiquity and the modern philosophers, although they may not have adopted\nany special form of worship? Yes. This common ground of all religion is\nthe idea of God.\n\n=167. Are there any duties toward God?=--If, as we have seen in our first\nbook (Vol. I., last chapter), there is a God, that is to say, an author of\nthe physical and moral universe, and its preserver and protector and\nfather, it follows that man, as a part of this universe, and distinguished\nfrom its other creatures by the fact that he knows himself to be a child\nof God, is held to entertain toward this supreme father, sentiments of\ngratitude and respect, and toward this supreme judge sentiments of fear\nand hope, all of which gives rise to a whole class of duties.\n\nSome doubts have been raised on this point by certain philosophers, and\nthe question has been asked whether man, so out of all proportion when\ncompared to God, could have any duties toward Him? It has been said,\nmoreover, that there could be no duty toward a being to whom we can do\nneither good nor harm. God, the essence of all perfection and supreme\nhappiness, can have nothing added to nor taken from these by us. We are\ntherefore under no obligation to him whatsoever.\n\n1. As for the absolute disproportion we imagine to exist between God and\nman, this disproportion does not prevent my having an idea of God: why\nshould it prevent my loving him and putting myself in relation with him?\nFenelon justly said: \"Nothing is so wonderful as the idea of God which I\ncarry within myself; it is the infinite contained within the finite. That\nwhich is within me is infinitely beyond me. I do not understand how it\ncomes to be in my mind, and yet it is there, nevertheless. This indelible\nand incomprehensible idea of the Divine Being is what, despite my\nimperfection and weakness, makes me resemble him. As he infinitely knows\nand loves himself, so do I, according to my power, know and love him. I\ncan love the infinite by no other means than by my finite knowledge, and\nlove it by no other than a love as finite as myself.... I wish my love\nwere as limitless as the perfection it loves. It is true, again, that this\nknowledge and this love are not equally as perfect as their object, but\nthe man who knows and loves God according to his measure of knowledge and\nlove is incomparably more worthy of this perfect being than the man\nwithout God in the world, caring neither to know nor to love him.\"[139]\nHence it can be concluded that the duties of man toward God are implied in\nthe knowledge he has of him.\n\n2. As to the second difficulty, it consists in saying that God being\nsusceptible of neither benefits nor injuries, it is not quite clear what\nacts we could perform in his behalf. But the question is precisely to know\nwhether we only owe duties to beings susceptible of benefits and injuries.\nWe have, for example, to perform duties of justice, love, respect toward\nthe dead, although we can do them neither good nor harm, since they are\ndead; and although we have reason to think that the dead still exist under\nanother form, the duties we still owe them, are independent of this\nconsideration, and notwithstanding the doubt of the immortality of souls,\nor their relations with the living, these duties still subsist: those\nsouls might be so happy, and in conditions so different from those of our\nearthly life, that they might have become wholly indifferent to such, at\nleast to harm. A historian, for instance, would not be justified in\nslandering his heroes under the pretext that, not believing in the\nimmortality of the soul, he knew he could do them no harm. Man, even in\nthis life, can, through patience and gentleness, so rise above all insults\nas to become wholly insensible to them: which fact, however, does not\nimply that the insults done him are innocent. The same man might be so\nmodest as to feel no need of any homage, which would make it no less a\nduty of justice on the part of others to render him all the homage that is\ndue him. Wholly inward feelings, not evidenced by any outward act\nwhatsoever, cannot in reality do their object any good or harm; yet no one\nwill question their being duties. It may then be seen that duty is not\nregulated by the good or evil which may outwardly be done, but by the\norder of things which requires that every being be loved and respected\naccording to his merit. Now, from this standpoint, there can be no doubt\nthat God, who is supreme perfection and the principle of all order and\njustice, is the legitimate object of the highest respect and the\nprofoundest love.\n\nIt may be said, perhaps, that these sentiments toward the Creator are\nrather duties we owe ourselves than God, for it is for our own sakes that\nwe are bound to give to our sensibility and affection the highest object\nthey can have. Since the perfection and the dignity of the soul are\nenhanced by religion, it is our duty to be religious.\n\nFenelon is quite right when he says that \"the man who knows and loves God\nis more _worthy_ of him than he who lives without him.\" Is it not the same\nas to say that religion rendering man more like God, and bringing him\nnearer to him, man owes it to himself to rise above himself through piety\nand the love of God?\n\nBut it matters very little how we explain the nature of the duties toward\nGod, provided we recognize them. Whether they be considered a distinct\nclass, or whether we only see in them the highest degree of man's duties\ntoward himself; all this is but a useless speculation. We could say\nconversely, and with equal justice, that our duties toward ourselves are\nbut a part of our duties toward God: for duty itself, in its highest\nconception, being to reach after the highest possible perfection, we can\nsay, with Plato, that virtue is the imitation of God; that, consequently,\nman owes it to himself to resemble God as much as possible, and that,\nconversely, he owes God, as the type of supreme perfection, to draw ever\nnearer to him through self-improvement. But how could he seek to draw\nnearer to God's supreme perfection if he did not entertain for him the\nfeelings of love and respect, which constitute what we, in general, call\nreligious sentiment?\n\n=168. Duties toward God.--Analysis of the religious sentiment.=--What is\ncalled _duties toward God_ is nothing else than the different acts by\nwhich we endeavor to bring about, cultivate, develop in us, or in others,\nreligious sentiment. When these acts are external, and take a certain\ndefinite form, they constitute what is called _outward worship_, and are\nconsequent upon positive religions. When they are concentrated in the\nsoul, and confined to sentiments, they constitute what is called _inner\nworship_. The virtue which corresponds to these inner acts and sentiments\nis called _piety_.\n\nThe duties toward God being thus blended with religious sentiment we must,\nin order to set them forth, first analyze this sentiment.\n\nReligious sentiment is composed of two elements: one which may be called\n_metaphysical_;[140] the other, _moral_. 1. Metaphysically, the love of\nGod is the sentiment of the infinite, the need of attaching ourselves to\nthe absolute, the eternal, the immutable, the true in itself--in one word,\nto Being. The thinking man, and even the thoughtless man, looking at\nhimself, finds himself small, feeble, miserable. \"Oh!\" exclaims Bossuet,\n\"how much we are nothing!\" \"Man becomes vile to himself,\" says St.\nBernard. \"Man feels that he is frail, that his life hangs but on a thread,\nthat he is constantly passing away. The goods of the world are perishable.\nThe fashion of this world passeth away. We neither know who we are, whence\nwe come, whither we are going, nor what sustains us during the short\nperiod of our lives. We are suspended between heaven and earth: between\ntwo infinities; we stand as on quicksands.\" All these strong expressions\nof mystics and religious writers admirably express the need we stand in of\nthe absolute, the immutable, the perfect,--a need felt more particularly\nby devout minds, but which all men, without exception, experience in some\ndegree or other, and which they endeavor to satisfy the best they can. All\nour efforts to reach the absolute in science, in art, in politics even,\nare but the forms in which this need of the absolute manifests itself. The\ninsatiable pursuit of the gratification of the passions even is, also,\nunder a vain appearance, the same need. It is this feeling of the eternal\nand the infinite, which the greatest metaphysicians all regarded as the\nultimate foundation of morality. Plato, Plotinus, Malebranche, Spinoza,\nall enjoin upon us to seek eternal, in preference to perishable, goods.\nThis sentiment, conscious of ever striving after the substance of good and\nnot its shadow, is the profoundest, nearest, and dearest element of\nreligious sentiment.\n\n2. Thus much in regard to the metaphysical element of religion: next comes\nthe moral element. God does not only appear to the human soul as a being\ninfinite, inexhaustible, eternal. The soul wants him nearer, and in her\nrespectful boldness she calls him _Father_. Man is not only feeble and\nimperfect; he is also a sinner and a sufferer; evil is his condition. The\nfrailty of our being and its narrow limits are already an evil; but these\nare the least of evils; humanity suffers, furthermore, from a double evil\nfar more real and poignant: pain and sin. Against physical pain,\nsuffering, it has but the feeble resource of prudence; against moral evil\nit has but one means of defense, very weak also--free-will. It would seem\nthat we are the masters of the universe; but experience shows, on the\ncontrary, that we are the feeblest among its creatures; often does the\nwill succumb; and Kant himself, despite his stoicism, asks whether indeed\na single act of virtue has ever been accomplished in the world. Life, on\nthe whole, notwithstanding its grand aspects and its few exquisite and\nsublime joys, life is bad; all ends badly, and death, which puts an end to\nall evils, is yet the greatest of evils. \"The human soul,\" says Plato,\n\"like a bird, raises its eyes to heaven,\" and calls for a remedy, a help,\na deliverance. \"Deliver us from evil,\" is the cry of every religion. God\nis the liberator and comforter. We love what is good and we do what is\nevil; we impatiently desire happiness, and meet with nothing but\nwretchedness. Such is the contradiction Pascal points out with such\nincisive eloquence. This contradiction must be removed. Hope and trust in\na supreme and benevolent Being must ransom us from pain and sin.\n\nMany persons place the essence of religion in the belief in a future life,\nor immortality of the soul. Who, without the hope of gaining paradise,\nwould think of God? But this is a contradiction in terms. Paradise, for\nthe true believer, is nothing; God, everything. If a future life is a\nnecessary consequence of the divine justice and bounty, we need not doubt\nits existence; if not, we have nothing to ask; it does not concern us.\nWhat especially concerns us is to know what we ought to do here below, and\nto have the strength to do it with. \"_Life is a meditation, not of death,\nbut of life_,\" said Spinoza. But in order to live, and live well, one must\nbelieve in life, must believe in its healthy and holy significance,\nbelieve that it is not mere play, a mere mystification, but that it was\ngiven us by the principle of good for the success of good.\n\nThe essence of religion, then, is a belief in the goodness of God. A\nGerman critic, Feuerbach, said with great effect, that religion consisted\nin divinizing human attributes. Thus: God is good, means according to him:\ngoodness is divine. God is just, signifies: justice is divine. The\nboldness of Christianity, its profound, pathetic beauty, its great moral\nefficacy lie in the fact that it has divinized our miseries; and that,\ninstead of saying, pain is divine, death is divine, it has said: God has\nsuffered, God has died. In a word, according to the same author, God \"is\nthe human heart divinized.\" Nothing could be more true and beautiful, only\nin another sense than that in which the author takes it. If God himself\nwas not supreme goodness, the heart of man would then contain something\ndivine, and God would not himself be divine! The heart feels that it\nexceeds all things, but, in order to believe in itself, it must know\nitself coming from a higher and purer source than it is itself.\n\n    \"In thinking of such a being (God), man experiences a sentiment which\n    is above all a religious sentiment. Every man, as we come into contact\n    with him, awakens in us a feeling of some kind, according to the\n    qualities we perceive in him, and should not He who possesses all\n    perfections excite in us the strongest of feelings? If we think of the\n    infinite essence of God, if we are thoroughly impressed by his\n    omnipotence, if we remember that the moral law expresses his will, and\n    that he has attached to the fulfillment and violation of this law,\n    rewards and punishments which he distributes with inflexible justice,\n    we must of necessity experience before such greatness emotions of\n    respect and fear. If next we come to consider that this omnipotent\n    being was pleased to create us, we, whom he had no need of, and that\n    in creating us he heaped upon us benefits of all kinds, that he has\n    given us this universe to enjoy its ever renewed beauties, that he has\n    given us society that our life may become enlarged in that of our\n    fellow-beings, that he has given us reason to think, a heart to love,\n    liberty to act, that same respect and fear will receive additional\n    strength from a still gentler sentiment, namely, that of love. Love,\n    when directed toward feeble and circumscribed beings, inspires us with\n    the desire to do them good: but, in itself, love does not especially\n    consider the advantage of the person beloved: we love a thing, good or\n    beautiful, simply because it is good or beautiful, and without thought\n    of benefiting it; or benefiting ourselves. How much more so when this\n    love is turned to God, as a pure homage to his perfections; when it is\n    the natural outpouring of the soul toward a being infinitely adorable.\n\n    \"Adoration consists in respect and love. If man, however, sees in God\n    the omnipotent master of heaven and earth only, the source of all\n    justice and the avenger of all wrong, he will, in his weakness, be\n    crushed by the overwhelming weight of God's greatness: he will be\n    living a life of perpetual fear, from the uncertainty of the judgment\n    of God; he will conceive for this world and life, always so full of\n    misery, nothing but hatred. Read Pascal's _Thoughts_. Pascal, in his\n    superb humility, forgets two things: the dignity of man and the\n    goodness of God. If, on the other hand, man only sees in God a kind\n    and indulgent Father, he will run into a chimerical mysticism. In\n    substituting love for fear, there is danger of losing the awe which we\n    should have for him. God is then no longer a master, scarcely a father\n    even; for the idea of father carries with it, in a certain degree,\n    that of a respectful fear: he is nothing more than a friend. True\n    adoration does not sever love from respect: it is respect animated by\n    love.\n\n    \"Adoration is a universal sentiment; it differs in degrees according\n    to the differences in human nature; it takes the greatest variety of\n    forms; it often does not even know itself; sometimes it betrays itself\n    by a sudden exclamation, a cry from the heart over the grand scenes of\n    nature and life; sometimes it rises silently in the deeply-moved and\n    dumb-stricken soul; it may in its expression mistake its aim; but\n    fundamentally it is always the same. It is a spontaneous and\n    irresistible yearning of the soul, which reason must declare just and\n    legitimate. What more just, in fact, than to fear the judgments of Him\n    who is holiness itself, who knows our actions and our intentions, and\n    who will judge them as it becomes supreme justice? What more just,\n    also, than to love perfect goodness and the source of all love?\n    Adoration is first a natural sentiment: reason makes of it a\n    _duty_.\"[141]\n\nThese two sentiments, love and respect, may, inasmuch as they relate to\nGod--that is to say, to an infinite being--be resolved into one, which we\ncall _veneration_. Veneration is the respect mixed with love which we feel\nfor our aged parents, for some exalted virtue, for devotion to a suffering\ncountry; but it is only through extension we so understand it: its true\nobject, its proper domain, is the divinity;[142] and if there are other\nobjects to _be revered_ and venerated, it is because we detect in them\nsomething august and sacred.\n\nIt will, perhaps, be said that _sentiments_ cannot be erected into\n_duties_: for how can I force myself to feel what I do not feel? Acts can\nbe commanded, but not sentiments.\n\nThis is true; but the acts, in the first place, are nothing without the\nsentiments, and if piety is not already in the heart, the most pious works\nwill have no virtue. Moreover, if it be true that it is impossible to\ngenerate, either in one's self or in others, sentiments, the germs of\nwhich do not exist in human nature, it is not true that sentiments in\nconformity with this nature, and which, whilst we believe them completely\nabsent, may only be dormant, could not be excited, awakened, cultivated,\nand developed. Now, it is enough to think of divine greatness, to\nexperience a feeling of fear and respect; it is enough to think of divine\nperfection, to love this perfection, and seek to come nearer to it. Duty\nhere consists, then, in thinking of God, in giving this great thought a\npart of our life, in uniting it with all the acts of that life: these\nsentiments will, then, be generated and will expand of themselves.\n\n=169. Piety united with all the acts of life: indirect duties toward\nGod.=--We have just said that the idea of God can be united with all the\nacts of life. Every action being the fulfillment of the will of\nProvidence, can be both moral and religious. _He who works, prays_, says\nthe proverb; a life which strives to preserve itself pure and virtuous, is\na continuous prayer. In this sense, all our duties are _indirect duties_\ntoward God.\n\n1. _Obedience to God_, manifested by obedience to moral law. I can obey\nthe moral law in two ways: on the one hand, because it is a duty, whatever\nbesides may be the reason of this duty, and next because this duty is in\nunison with universal order, which is the work of divine wisdom. To\nfulfill one's duty is, then, to co-operate in some respect with God in the\nachievement of this order. It is thus that in ancient religions,\nagriculture was regarded a religious act, because man took therein the\npart of the creator.\n\n2. _Resignation to the will of Providence._--Patience is unquestionably a\nduty in itself. There is a lack of dignity in rebelling against evils\nwhich cannot be prevented; but this is as yet a wholly negative virtue. It\nbecomes a religious virtue if we regard the ills of life in the light of\ntrials, and as the condition of a higher good, and expect to voluntarily\nsubmit to them as being in the plan of Providence. It is thus the\nPythagoreans forbade suicide, saying that it was leaving the post in which\nGod had placed us.\n\nIt would, moreover, be interpreting this duty of resignation very falsely\nto think that it commands us to bear trouble and make no effort to escape\nit. This were confounding Providence with fatalism. On the contrary, God,\nhaving given us free will, not only permits us thereby, but even\npositively enjoins upon us, to use it in bettering our condition.\n\n3. _Love of God conjoined with the love of man._--There is no real love of\nGod without love of neighbor; it is a false piety which thinks itself\nobliged to sacrifice the love of men to the love of God: thence come\n_fanaticism_, _intolerance_, _persecution_. To believe these to be\nreligious virtues is _impious_. We cannot please God by acts of hatred and\ncruelty. Thus is the love of God nothing without the love of men.\n\nBut it can also be said that the love of men is incomplete if it does not\nget its sustenance from a higher source, which is the love of God. We can,\nin fact, love men in two ways: first, because they are men, because they\nare like us, because there is between them and us a natural bond of\nsympathy. But we can also love them because they are, like ourselves,\nmembers of the universe of which God is the sovereign ruler, members of a\nfamily of which God is the father, because, like ourselves, they reflect\nsome of the attributes of supreme perfection, because they ought, like us,\nto strive after all perfection. We can then love men religiously, love\nthem in God in some respect. Thus conversely to love men will be loving\nGod.\n\n=170. The idea of God in morals.=--We have, in a former course of lectures,\nseen how the moral law is related to God: this law is certainly not\ndependent on his will alone, but on his holiness and supreme perfection;\nand it is still further related to him as to a supreme sanction. We have\nto consider here only the _practical efficacy_ of the idea of God--that is\nto say, the additional strength moral belief receives by a belief in\nabsolute justice and holiness. It is on this condition and from this\nstandpoint that Kant has called the existence of God the _postulate_[143]\nof the moral law. The moral law, in fact, supposes the world able to\nconform to this law; but how are we to believe in such a possibility if\nthis world were the effect of a blind and indifferent necessity? \"Since it\nis our duty,\" says Kant, \"to work toward the realization of the supreme\ngood, it is not only a right, but a necessity flowing from this duty, to\nsuppose the possibility of this supreme good, which good is only possible\non the condition of God's existence\"[144]....--\"Suppose, for example,\" he\nsays elsewhere, \"an honest man like Spinoza, firmly convinced that there\nis no God and no future life. He will, without doubt, fulfill\ndisinterestedly the duty that holy law imposes on his activity; but his\nefforts will be limited. If here and there he finds in nature accidental\nco-operation, he can never expect of this co-operation to be in perfect\nand constant accordance with the end he feels himself obliged to pursue.\nThough honest, peaceful, benevolent himself, he will always be surrounded\nby fraud, violence, envy; in vain do the good people he meets deserve to\nbe happy; nature has no regard for their goodness, and exposes them, like\nall the rest of earth's animals, to disease and misery, to a premature\ndeath, until one vast tomb--the gulf of blind matter from which they\nissued--swallows them all up again. Thus would this righteous man be\nobliged to give up as absolutely impossible the end which the law imposed\non him; or, if he wished to remain true to the inner voice of his moral\ndestiny, he will, from a practical point of view, be obliged to recognize\nthe existence of a moral cause in the world, namely, God.\" Thus, according\nto Kant, is religion, namely, the belief in the existence of God,\nrequired, not as a theoretical basis for morality, but as a practical\nbasis. \"The righteous man can say: I _will_ that there be a God.\"[145]\n\nIt may be objected that moral law can dispense with outward success; that\nit does not appear to be essential to the idea of that law; that the wise,\nas far as their own happiness is concerned, need not consider it, can\nignore it. But what they are obliged to consider, and are not allowed to\nignore, is the happiness of others, and what is generally understood by\nprogress--the possible improvement of the race. If, as some pessimistic\nand misanthropic philosophers seem to think, men will never be anything\nmore than monkeys or tigers given to the lowest and most ferocious\ninstincts, do you believe that any man, be he ever so well endowed\nmorally, ever so deeply convinced of the obligation of the law of duty,\ncould, if he believed such a thing, be able to continue doing his duty, a\nduty followed by no appreciable or perceptible results? The first\ncondition for becoming or remaining virtuous, is to believe in virtue. But\nto believe in virtue means to believe that virtue is a fact, that it\nexists in the world, that it can do it good; in other words, it is to\nbelieve that the human race was created for good; that nature is capable\nof being transformed according to the law of good; it is, in short, to\nbelieve that the universe obeys a principle of good, and not a principle\nof evil--an Oromazes, not an Ahrimanes. As to believing in an indifferent\nbeing, one that were neither good nor evil, we should not be any better\noff; it would leave us just as uncertain in regard to the possible success\nof our efforts, and just as doubtful about the worth of our moral beliefs.\n\nIn one word, and to conclude, if God were an illusion, why could not\nvirtue be an illusion also? In order that I may believe in the dignity and\nexcellence of my soul and that of other men, I must believe in a supreme\nprinciple of dignity and excellence. Nothing comes from nothing. If there\nis no being to love me and my fellow-men, why should I be held to love\nthem? If the world is not good, if it was not created for good, if good is\nnot its origin and end, what have I to do here in this world, and what\ncare I for that swarm of ants of which I am a part? Let them get along as\nwell as they can! Why should I take so much trouble to so little purpose?\nTake any intelligent man, a friend of civil and political liberty, and\nready to suffer anything to procure these to his country, as long as he\nbelieves the thing possible, both wisdom and virtue will command him to\ndevote himself wholly to it. But let experience prove to him that it is a\nchimera, that his fellow-citizens are either too great cowards or too\nvicious to be worthy and capable of the good he wishes to secure to them;\nsuppose he sees all around him nothing but cupidity, servility, unbridled\nand abominable passions; suppose, finally, that he becomes convinced that\nliberty among men, or at least among the people he lives with, is an\nillusion, do you think he could, do you even think he should, continue\nwasting his faculties in an impossible enterprise? Once more, I can forget\nmyself, and I ought; and I should leave to internal justice or divine\ngoodness the care to watch over my destinies; but that which I cannot\nforget, that which cannot leave me indifferent, is the reign of justice\non earth. I must be able to say: _Let Thy kingdom come!_ How can I\nco-operate with the Divine Idea if there is no God, who, in creating us\nfor the furthering of his kingdom, made it, at the same time, possible for\nus? And how any I to believe that out of that great void whereto atheism\nreduces us, there can come a reign of wills holy and just, bound to each\nother by the laws of respect and love? Kant, the great stoic, without\nborrowing from theology, has more strongly than any other, described the\nnecessity of this reign of law; but he fully understood that this abstract\nand ideal order of things would remain but a pure conception, if there\nwere not conjoined with it what he justly calls \"the practical, the moral\nfaith\" in the existence of God.\n\n=171. Religious rights.=--_Religious duties_ imply _religious rights_: for\nif it is a duty to honor the Creator, it is also a right. Even those who\ndo not admit obligations toward God, ought to respect in those who do\nadmit them, their liberty to do so. The right of having a religion, and\npracticing it, is what is called _liberty of conscience_.\n\n\"The first right I claim,\" says an eloquent writer, \"is the right of\nadopting a free belief touching the nature of God, my duties, my future;\nit is a wholly interior right, which governs the relations of my will or\nconscience alone. It is the liberty of conscience in its essence, its\nfirst act, its indispensable basis. It is the _liberty to believe_, or\n_faith_. Free in the innermost of my thought, shall I be confined to a\nsilent worship? Shall I not be allowed to express what I think? Faith is\ncommunicative, and will make itself felt by others. I cannot control its\nexpressing itself without doing it violence, without offending God,\nwithout rendering myself guilty of ingratitude. I cannot, moreover,\nworship a God that is not my God. The freedom of belief, without the\nfreedom of prayer--that is to say, without free worship--is only a\ndelusion.\n\n\"Now, is prayer sufficient? Does this solitary expression of my faith, my\nlove, my ignorance, suffice the wants of my heart and my duties toward\nGod? Yes, if man were made to live alone; but not if he has brethren. I\nam a social being; I have duties toward society as well as toward God; my\ncreed commands me to teach as well as to pray. My voice must be heard, and\nI must, following my destiny, and according to the measure of my powers,\ncarry along with me all those who are inclined to follow me. This is the\nliberty of promulgating one's creed, or, in other words, the _liberty of\npropagandism_.\n\n\"Worship, then, means to believe, to pray, to teach. But, can I consider\nmyself a free believer, if praying in public be denied me; if by praying,\nand teaching, and confessing my doctrine, I risk the loss of my rights as\nman and citizen? There are other means for checking public worship and\napostleship than burning at the stake. It is obvious that, in order no\ninjustice be done to my particular creed, I should risk nothing by it;\nthat I be not deprived of any of my civil or political rights. All this is\nincluded in the term _liberty_ of _conscience_: it is at the same time the\nright to believe, the right to pray, and the right to exercise this triple\nliberty without having to suffer any diminution in one's dignity as man\nand citizen.\"[146]\n\n=172. Religious society.=--Religious duties and rights give rise to what\nmay be called religious society. Fenelon has magnificently described the\nideal religious society where all would form but one family united by the\nlove of God and men.\n\n    \"Do we not see,\" he says, \"that the external worship follows\n    necessarily the internal worship of love? Give me a society of men\n    who, while on earth, would look upon each other as members of one and\n    the same family, whose Father is in heaven; give me men whose life was\n    sunk in this love for their heavenly Father, men who loved their\n    fellow-men and themselves only through love for Him; who were but one\n    heart, one soul: will not in so godly a society the mouth always speak\n    from the abundance of the heart? They will sing the praises of the\n    Most High, the Most Good spontaneously; they will bless Him for all\n    His bounties. They will not be content to love Him merely, they will\n    proclaim this love to all the nations of the world; they will wish to\n    correct and admonish their brethren when they see them tempted through\n    pride and low passions to forsake the Well-Beloved. They will lament\n    the least cooling of that love. They will cross the seas, go to the\n    uttermost parts of the earth, to teach the benighted nations who have\n    forgotten His greatness the knowledge and love of their common Father.\n    What do you call external worship if this be not it? God then would be\n    _all in all_; He would be the universal king, father, friend; He would\n    be the living law of all hearts. Truly, if a mortal king or head of a\n    family wins by his wisdom the esteem and confidence of his children,\n    if we see them at all times pay him the honors due him, need we ask\n    wherein consists his service, or whether any is due him? All that is\n    done in his honor, in obedience to him, in recognition of his\n    bounties, is a continuous worship, obvious to all eyes. What would it\n    be then if men were possessed with the love of God! Their society\n    would be in a state of continuous worship, like that described to us\n    of the blessed in heaven.\"[147]\n\nThe great ancient moralist, Epictetus, has as superbly as Fenelon\nexpressed the same sentiments:\n\n    \"If we had any understanding,\" he says, \"ought we not, both in public\n    and in private, incessantly to sing and praise the Deity, and rehearse\n    His benefits? Ought we not, whether we dig, or plough, or eat, to sing\n    this hymn to God? Great is God, who has supplied us with these\n    instruments to till the ground; great is God, who has given us hands\n    and organs of digestion; who has given us to grow insensibly, to\n    breathe in sleep. These things we ought forever to celebrate, and to\n    make it the theme of the greatest and divinest hymn that He has given\n    us the power to appreciate these gifts, and to use them well. But\n    because the most of you are blind and insensible there must be some\n    one to fill this station, and lead in behalf of all men the hymn to\n    God; for what else can I do, a lame old man, but sing hymns to God?\n    Were I a nightingale, I would act the part of a nightingale; were I a\n    swan, the part of a swan. But since I am a reasonable creature it is\n    my duty to praise God. This is my business. I do it. Nor will I ever\n    desert this post, so long as it is permitted me; and I call on you to\n    join in the same song.\"[148]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nMORAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS.\n\n    SUMMARY.\n\n    =Means and end.=--Moral science should not only point out the _end_; it\n    should also indicate the _means_ of attaining that end.\n\n    There is, as of the body, a culture of the soul: as, in medicine, we\n    distinguish between _temperaments_, _diseases_ and their _treatments_,\n    so do we distinguish in morals, _characters_, _passions_, and\n    _remedies_.\n\n    =Of character.=--Character as compared with temperament: four principal\n    types.\n\n    Character at different ages: childhood, youth, manhood, and old age.\n\n    =Passions.=--Passions may in one respect be considered as _natural\n    affections_; but in a moral point of view they should be considered as\n    _diseases_.\n\n    The law of passions considered from this last standpoint. Enumeration\n    and analysis of these various passions.\n\n    =Culture of the soul=, or =moral treatment=.--On the government of\n    passions.--Bossuet's advice: not directly to combat the passions, but\n    to turn them off into other channels.\n\n    =Of the formation of character.=--Rules of Malebranche: 1, acts produce\n    habits, and habits produce acts; 2, one can always act against a\n    ruling habit.\n\n    How is one habit to be substituted for another?--Aristotle's rule: To\n    go from one extreme to the other.--Bacon's rules: 1, to proceed by\n    degrees; 2, to choose for a new virtue two kinds of opportunities: the\n    first when one is best disposed, the second when one is least so; 3,\n    not to trust too much to one's conversion and distrust opportunities.\n\n    Benjamin Franklin's Almanac.--Other practices.--Kant's moral\n    catechism.\n\n\nWe have done with _practical_ morals, the morals, namely, which have for\ntheir object the setting forth of man's duties and the principal\napplications of the moral law. The second part of this course of study\nshall be devoted to the _theory_ of morals, which has for its object the\nelucidation of principles. But to pass from the one to the other, it\nseemed to us proper, by way of conclusion, to introduce here an order of\nresearches which belongs to both practical and theoretical morals, the\nstudy, namely, of the means man has at his disposal in his moral\nself-perfection, either by curing himself of vice, or in advancing in\nvirtue: this is what we call _moral medicine and gymnastics_.\n\nBacon justly remarks that most moralists are like writing-masters who lay\nfine copies before their pupils, but tell them nothing of the manner of\nusing the pen and tracing characters. Thus do the philosophers set before\nus very fine and magnificent models, very faithful and noble pictures of\ngoodness and virtue, of duties, of happiness; but they teach us nothing\nabout the means of attaining to such perfection. They make us acquainted\nwith the _end_, and not with the _road_ that leads to it.[149]\n\nThen, presenting us himself a sketch of that portion of morality which\ndoes not confine itself to precepts only, but to instructions also, and\nwhich he calls the _Georgics of the soul_ (science of the culture and the\nsoul), he tells us that it should be like medicine which considers first\nthe _constitution_ of the patient, then the _disease_, then the\n_treatment_. The same in regard to the soul: there are moral temperaments\nas there are physical temperaments: these are the _characters_; moral\ndiseases as there are physical diseases; these are the _passions_; and\nfinally there is a moral _treatment_ as there is a physical treatment, and\nit is the treatment of morality to indicate this treatment. Now, one\ncannot treat a disease without knowing it and without being acquainted\nwith the temperament and constitution of the patient. \"A coat cannot be\nfitted on a body without the tailor's taking first the measure of him for\nwhom he makes it.\" Hence, it follows that before deciding on a remedy,\none must acquaint himself with the characters and passions.\n\n=173. Of character.=--The study of character is hardly susceptible of a\nmethodical classification. Passions, manners, habits are so complicated\nand so intermixed in individuals that they afford scarcely a chance to\nfaithfully describe them, and this subject, though very fertile, is more\nof the province of literature than of science. Theophrastus among the\nancients, and La Bruyere among the moderns, have excelled in this kind of\ndescription; but it would be very difficult to analyze their works, as\nthey have nothing didactic: they are better suited for reading.\nTheophrastus describes dissemblers, flatterers, intruders, rustics,\nparasites, babblers, the superstitious, misers, the proud, slanderers,\netc. All these are unquestionably principal types of human character, but\nthey cannot be strictly brought down to a few elementary types. La Bruyere\nis still further removed; he does not only treat character, but manners\nalso; he describes individuals rather than men in general, or it is always\nin the individual that he sees the man. Hence the charm and piquancy of\nhis pictures; but moral science finds scarcely anything to borrow from\nhim.\n\nKant tried to give a theory of character, and he started with the same\nidea as Bacon, namely, the analogy between characters and temperaments;\nthus did he confine himself to taking up again the old physiological\ntheory of temperaments and apply it to the moral man. He distinguishes two\nkinds of temperaments: temperaments of _sentiment_, and temperaments of\n_activity_; and in each of these two kinds, two degrees or two different\nshades: exaltation or abatement. Hence, four different kinds of\ntemperaments: the sanguine and the melancholy (temperament of sentiment),\nthe choleric and phlegmatic (temperament of activity). Kant describes\nthese four temperaments or characters as follows:[150]\n\n\"The _sanguine_ disposition may be recognized by the following\nindications: The sanguine man is free from care and of good hope; he\ngives to things at one moment undue importance; at another, he can no\nlonger think of them. He is splendid in his promises, but does not keep\nthem, because he has not sufficiently reflected whether he will be able to\nkeep them or not. He is well enough disposed to help others, but is a poor\ndebtor and always asks for delays. He is good company, cheerful, lively,\ntakes things easily, and is everybody's friend. He is not usually a bad\nperson, but a confirmed sinner, hard to convert, and who, though he will\nrepent, will never allow this repentance to turn into grief: it is soon\nagain forgotten. He is easily tired by work; yet is he constantly\noccupied, and that, for the reason that his work being but play, it proves\na change which suits him, as perseverance is not in his nature.\n\n\"The _melancholy_ man gives to everything concerning him a vast\nimportance; the least trifles give him anxiety, and his whole attention is\nfixed upon the difficulties of things. Contrary to the sanguine, always\nhopeful of success, but a superficial thinker, the melancholy is a\nprofound thinker. He is not hasty in his promises because he intends\nkeeping them, and he considers carefully whether he will be able to do so.\nHe distrusts and takes thought of things which the sanguine passes\ncarelessly by; he is no philanthropist, for the reason that he who denies\nhimself pleasure is rarely inclined to wish it to others.\n\n\"The _choleric_ man is easily excited and as easily appeased; he flares up\nlike a straw fire; but submission soon softens him down; he is then\nirritable without hatred, and loves him who readily gives up to him, all\nthe more ardently. He is prompt in his actions, but his activity does not\nlast long; he is never idle, yet not industrious. His ruling passion is\nhonors; he likes to meddle with public affairs, to hear himself praised;\nhe is for show and ceremonial. He is fond of playing the part of a\nprotector and to appear generous; but not from a feeling of affection, but\nof pride, for he loves himself much more than he loves others. He is\npassionately given to money making; in society he is a ceremonious\ncourtier, stiff, and ill at ease, and ready to accept any flatterer to\nserve him as a shield; in a word, the choleric temperament is the least\nhappy of all because it is the one that meets with most opposition.\n\n\"The _phlegmatic_ temper. Phlegm means absence of emotion. The phlegmatic\nman to whom nature has given a certain quantum of reason, resembles the\nman who acts on principle, although he owes this disposition to instinct\nonly. His happy temperament stands to him in lieu of wisdom, and often in\nordinary life he is called a philosopher. Sometimes even he is thought\ncunning, because all abuse launched at him bounces back again, as a ball\nfrom a sack of wool. He makes a pretty good husband, and, whilst\npretending to do every one's will, he governs both wife and servants as he\nlikes, for he knows how to bring their wishes in agreement with his own\nindomitable but thoughtful will.\"\n\nThere are then, according to Kant, four essentially distinct characters:\nthe _sanguine_, playful, kindly, superficial; the _melancholy_, profound,\nsad, egotistical; the _choleric_, ardent, passionate, ambitious, covetous;\nthe _phlegmatic_, cold, moderate, inflexible.\n\nKant denies that these four kinds of temperaments can combine with each\nother; \"there are but four in all,\" he says, \"and each of them is complete\nin itself.\" It seems to us, on the contrary, that experience shows that no\none of these characters exists separately in an absolute manner; there is\nalways to some degree a mixture, and different men are generally\ndistinguished by the leading feature in their character.\n\nWe must, however, make a distinction between _disposition_ and\n_character_. To be of such or such a disposition is not always being a man\n_of character_. The first of these two expressions signifies the various\naptitudes, inclinations, or habits which distinguish a man from others;\nthe second signifies that strength of will, that empire over himself which\nenables a man to follow faithfully the line of conduct he has chosen, and\nto bravely resist temptations. Character is not always virtue (for it may\nbe controlled by false and vicious principles), but it is its condition.\n\n\"That tendency of the will which acts according to fixed principles (and\ndoes not move from this to that, like a fly) is something truly estimable,\nand which deserves all the more admiration as it is extremely rare. The\nquestion here is not of what nature makes of man, but of what man makes of\nhimself. Talent has a _venal value_ which allows making use of the man\ntherewith endowed; temperament has an affection-value which makes of him\nan agreeable companion and pleasant talker; but character has a _value_\nwhich places him above all these things.\"[151]\n\n=174. Age.=--To this classification of characters according to\ntemperaments, may be added that founded on age. In fact, different ages\nhave, as it is well known, very different characteristics. Aristotle[152]\nwas the first to describe the differences in men's morals according to\ntheir ages, and he has since been very often imitated.\n\n\"I. _The young._--The young are in their dispositions prone to desire, and\nof a character to effect what they desire. And they desire with\nearnestness, but speedily cease to desire; for their wishes are keen,\nwithout being durable; just like the hunger and thirst of the sick. And\nthey are passionate and irritable, and of a temperament to follow the\nimpulse. And they cannot overcome their anger; for by reason of their\nambition, they do not endure a slight, but become indignant, and fancy\nthemselves injured; and they are ambitious indeed of honor, but more so of\nvictory; for youth is desirous of superiority, and victory is a sort of\nsuperiority. And they are credulous, from their never having yet been much\nimposed on. And they are sanguine in their expectations; for, like those\nwho are affected by wine, so the young are warmed by their nature; and at\nthe same time from their having never yet met with many repulses. Their\nlife too, for the most part, is one of hope; for hope is of that which is\nyet to be, while memory is of that which is passed: but to the young, that\nwhich is yet to be is long; but that which has passed is short. And they\nare brave rather to an excess; for they are irritable and sanguine,\nqualities, the one whereof cancels fear, and the other inspires courage;\nfor while no one who is affected by anger ever is afraid, the being in\nhope of some good is a thing to give courage. And they are bashful; for\nthey do not as yet conceive the honorable to be anything distinct; and\nthey are high-minded; for they have not as yet been humbled by the course\nof life, but are inexperienced in peremptory circumstances; again,\nhigh-mindedness is the deeming one's self worthy of much; and this belongs\nto persons of sanguine expectations. And they prefer succeeding in an\nhonorable sense rather than in points of expediency; for they live more in\nconformity to moral feeling than to mere calculations; and calculation is\nof the expedient, moral excellence, however, of that which is honorable.\nAgain, they are fond of friends and companions, by reason of their\ndelighting in social intercourse. And all their errors are on the side of\nexcess; for their friendships are in excess, their hatreds are in excess,\nand they do everything else with the same degree of earnestness; they\nthink also that they know everything, and firmly asseverate that they do;\nfor this is the cause of their pushing everything to an excess. They are\nlikewise prone to pity; and they are also fond of mirth, on which account\nthey are also of a facetious turn.\"\n\n\"II. _The old._--Those who are advanced in life are of dispositions in\nmost points the very opposite of those of the young. Since by reason of\ntheir having lived many years, and having been deceived in the greater\nnumber of instances, and having come to the conclusion, too, that the\nmajority of human affairs are but worthless, they do not positively\nasseverate anything, and err in everything more on the side of defect than\nthey ought. And they always '_suppose_' but never '_know_' certainly; and\nquestioning everything, they always subjoin a '_perhaps_,' or a\n'_possibly_.' Moreover, they are apt to be suspicious from distrust, and\nthey are distrustful from their experience. And they are pusillanimous\nfrom their having been humbled by the course of life; for they raise their\ndesires to nothing great or vast, but to things only which conduce to\nsupport of life. And they are timid and apprehensive of everything; for\ntheir disposition is the reverse of that of the young; for they have been\nchilled by years; and yet they are attached to life, and particularly at\nits closing day. [They are apt to despond.] And they live more in memory\nthan in hope; for the remnant of life is brief, and what has passed is\nconsiderable. And their desires have, some, abandoned them, the others are\nfaint. They are neither facetious nor fond of mirth.\n\n\"III. _Mature age._--Those who are in their prime will, it is evident, be\nin a mean in point of disposition between the young and the old,\nsubtracting the excesses of each: being neither rash in too great a\ndegree, nor too much given to fear, but keeping themselves right in\nrespect to both. And they are of a tempering coolness joined with spirit,\nand are spirited not without temperate coolness. And thus, in a word,\nwhatever advantages youth and age have divided between them, the middle\nage possesses both.\"\n\nWe must admit that Aristotle, who has so admirably depicted young and old\nmen, is weak on the subject of manhood. Boileau, translating Horace, makes\nof it a far more clear and exact picture:\n\n\"Manhood, more ripe, puts on a wiser look, succeeds with those in power,\nintrigues, and spares itself, thinks of holding its own against the blows\nof fate, and far on in the now looks forth to the _to be_.\"\n\n=175. Passions.=--Character, considered from a strictly philosophical\nstandpoint, is nothing more than the various combinations which the\npassions, whether natural or acquired, which exist in man, form in each\nindividual, so that there is, in some respect, double reason for treating\nthese two subjects separately. But, in the first place, the divers\nmovements of the soul take, by usage, the name of passions, only when they\nreach a certain degree of acuteness, and, as Bacon puts it, of disease. In\nthe second, passions are the elements which in divers quantities and\nproportions compose what is termed character; it is from this double point\nof view that we must speak of them separately.\n\nIf we consider the passions from a psychological[153] standpoint, we shall\nfind that they are nothing more than the natural inclinations of the human\nheart.\n\nWe have to consider them here especially from a _pathological_ point of\nview (if it may be permitted to say so), that is, as diseases of the human\nheart.\n\nThe character of passions regarded as diseases, is the following:\n\n1. They are _exclusive_. A man who has become enslaved by a passion, will\nknow nothing else, will listen to nothing else; he will sacrifice to that\npassion not only his reason and his duty, but his other inclinations, and\neven his other passions also. The passion of gambling or of drinking will\nstifle all the rest, ambition, love, even the instinct of\nself-preservation.\n\n2. Passion, as a disease, is in a _violent_ condition; it is impetuous,\ndisordered, very like insanity.\n\n3. Although there may be fits of passion, sudden and fleeting, which rise\nand fall again in the same instant, we generally give the name of passions\nonly to movements which have become _habitual_. Passions then are habits;\napplied to things base, they become _vices_.\n\n4. There is a diagnosis[154] of passions as there is of diseases. They\nbetray themselves outwardly by external signs which are their symptoms\n(acts, gestures, physiognomy), and inwardly, by first indications or what\nwas formerly called _prodromes_, which are their forerunners (disturbance,\nagitation, etc.).\n\n5. Passion, like disease, has its history: it has its regular course, its\ncrisis, and termination. The _Imitation of Jesus Christ_ gives in a few\nwords the history of a passion: \"In the beginning a simple _thought_\npresents itself to the mind; this is followed by a vivid _fancy_; then\ncomes _delectation_, a bad _impulse_, and finally the _consent_. Thus does\nthe evil one gradually enter the soul.\"[155]\n\n6. It is rare that a passion arises and develops without obstacles and\nresistance. Hence that state we have called _fluctuation_ (Vol. I., p.\n167), and which has so often been compared to the ebb and flow of the sea.\n\nThese general features of the passions being stated, let us make a brief\nsketch of the principal passions.\n\nIt may be said that our passions pass through three distinct states; they\nare at first natural and unavoidable affections of the mind:\n_inclinations_, _tendencies_; they become next violent and unruly\nmovements: these are the passions properly so-called; they become habits\nand embodied in the character, and take the name of _qualities_ and\n_defects_, _virtues_ and _vices_. But it is to be noted that whilst we can\nalways distinguish these three states theoretically, language is, for the\nmost part, inadequate to express them; for men have designated these moral\nstates only according to the necessities of practice, and not according to\nthe rules of theory.\n\nThe three states which we have just pointed out, can be very clearly\ndistinguished in the first of the affections of human nature, namely, the\n_instinct of self-preservation_. This instinct is at first a natural,\nlegitimate, necessary affection of the human heart; but by the force of\ncircumstances, the influence of age, disease, temperament, it develops out\nof proportion into a state of passion, and becomes what we call _fear_; or\nelse it turns into a habit and becomes the vice we call _cowardice_.\n\nPhysical self-preservation is inseparable from two _appetites_ called\nhunger and thirst. These two appetites, too much indulged in, become\npassions, which themselves may become vices. But language fails here to\nexpress their various shades: there is only one word to express the\npassion or vice related to eating and drinking: it is on the one hand\n_gluttony_, and on the other _drunkenness_;[156] both these vices, and in\ngeneral all undue surrender to sensual pleasures, is called\n_intemperance_.\n\nThe source of all our personal inclinations is the love for ourselves or\n_self-love_, a legitimate instinct when kept within bounds; but when\ncarried to excess, when exclusive and predominant, it becomes the vice we\ncall _selfishness_.\n\nSelf-esteem, developed into a passion, becomes, when it turns upon great\nthings, _false pride_; when upon small, _vanity_.\n\n_The love of liberty_ degenerates into a _spirit of revolt_; the\nlegitimate love of power, into _ambition_; _the instinct of property_\nbecomes _greed_, _cupidity_, _passion for gain_, and tends to run into the\n_passion for gambling_ or the desire to gain by means of chance. The\ndesire for gain engenders the _fear of loss_, and this latter passion\ndeveloping into a vice and mania, becomes _avarice_.\n\nHuman inclinations are divided into _benevolent_ and _malevolent_\ninclinations. The first may develop into a passion, but not into a vice;\nthe second alone become vices.\n\nThere is not a single benevolent inclination which, carried too far and\nbeyond reason, may not become a more or less blameworthy passion. But, in\nthe first place, we have no terms in our language to express the\nexaggerations of these kinds of passions,[157] and in the second, though\nthey be exaggerations, we shall never call the tenderer affections of the\nhuman heart, however foolish they may be, vices, if they are sincere.\n\nYet, may some of these affections become vices when they unite with\npersonal passion. For example, good nature or the desire to please may\nlead to _obsequious servility_, the desire to praise, to _flattery_, and\nesteem, to _hypocrisy_. But these vices partake more of the nature of\nself-love than of benevolent inclinations.\n\n_Malevolent passions._--Malevolent inclinations give rise to the most\nterrible passions. But are there, indeed, in man naturally malevolent\ninclinations? Reid, the philosopher, disputes it and justly thinks, as we\ndo, that malevolent passions are but the abuse of certain personal\ninclinations intended to serve as auxiliaries in the development of our\nactivity. There are two principal malevolent passions, _emulation_ and\n_anger_.\n\nEmulation is but a special desire for success and superiority. This\ndesire, induced by the thought that other men around us have attained to\nsuch or such degree of public esteem or power, is not in itself a\nmalevolent inclination. We may wish to equal and surpass others without,\nat the same time, wishing them any harm. We can experience pleasure in\nexcelling them, without exactly rejoicing in their defeat; we can bear\nbeing excelled by them without begrudging them their success.\n\nEmulation then is a personal but not a malevolent sentiment; it becomes\nmalevolent and vicious when our feelings toward others become inverted:\nwhen, for example, we regret, not the check we have been made to suffer,\nbut the advantage our rivals have gained over us, and when we are unable\nto bear the idea of the good fortune of others; or again when, conversely,\nwe experience more pleasure at their defeat than joy at our own victory.\nThis sentiment, thus perverted, becomes what is called _envy_: and envy is\ngenerally the pain we feel at the good fortune of others; it is then a\nsentiment implying the wish to see others unhappy; and is therefore an\nactual vice, as low as it is odious.\n\n_Envy_ which has some analogy with _jealousy_ must be distinguished from\nthe latter. Jealousy is a kind of envy which bears especially upon\naffections it is not allowed to share; envy, upon material goods, or goods\nin the abstract (fortune, honors, power). The envious man wants goods he\ndoes not possess; the jealous man refuses to share those which he has.\nJealousy is then a sort of selfishness, not as base as envy, since higher\ngoods are in question, but which for its consequences is nevertheless one\nof the most terrible of passions.\n\nAnger is a natural passion, which seems to have been bestowed on us to\nfurnish us an arm against peril; it is an effort the soul makes to resist\nan evil it stands in danger of. But this inclination is one of those which\ncause us the quickest to lose our self-possession, and throws us into a\nsort of momentary insanity. Yet, although it is a passion of which the\nconsequences may be fatal, it is not necessarily accompanied by hatred (as\nmay be seen by the soldier who will fight furiously and who, immediately\nafter the battle or during a truce, will shake hands with his enemy).\nAnger then is an effort of nature in the act of self-defense; it is a\nfever, and as such it is a fatal and culpable passion, but it is not a\nvice.\n\nAnger becomes _hatred_ when, thinking of the harm we have done or could do\nto our enemy, we rejoice over the thought of this harm; it is called\n_resentment_ or _rancor_ when it is the spiteful recollection of an injury\nreceived; finally, it becomes the _passion of vengeance_ (the most\ncriminal of all) when it is the desire and hope to return evil for evil.\nPleasure at the misfortune of others, when it reaches a certain\nrefinement, even though free from hatred, becomes _cruelty_.\n\nHatred changes into _contempt_ when there is joined to it the idea of the\nbaseness and inferiority of the person who is hated. Contempt is a\nlegitimate sentiment when it has for its object base and culpable actions;\nit is a bad and blameworthy passion when it bears upon a pretended\ninferiority, either of birth, or fortune, or talent, and then belongs to\nfalse pride. False pride, however, is not always accompanied by contempt.\nWe see men full of self-satisfaction, who yet know how to be polite and\ncourteous toward those they regard their inferiors; others, on the\ncontrary, who look down upon their inferiors and treat them like brutes.\nContempt, with such, is added to false pride. A gentler form of contempt\nis _disdain_, a sort of delicate and covered contempt. Contempt when it\napplies itself to set off, not the vices, but the peculiarities of men,\ntrying to make them appear ridiculous, becomes _raillery_ or _irony_.\n\nSuch are the principal affections of the soul viewed as diseases, that is\nto say, inasmuch as they have need of remedies.\n\nLet us now, to continue Bacon's comparison, pass to their _treatment_.\n\n=176. Culture of the soul.=--After having studied characters and passions,\nwe have to ask ourselves by what means passions may be governed and\ncharacters modified or corrected.\n\n=177. Bossuet's rule.=--As to the first point, namely, the government of\nthe passions, Bossuet gives us in his _Connaissance de Dieu et de\nsoi-meme_,[158] excellent practical advice: it is obviously based on his\nstudy of consciences.\n\nHe justly observes that we cannot directly control our passions: \"We\ncannot,\" he says, \"start or appease our anger as we can move an aim or\nkeep it still.\" But, on the other hand, the power we exercise over our\nexternal members gives us also a very great one over our passions. It is,\nof course, but an indirect power, but it is no less efficacious: \"Thus can\nI put away from me a disagreeable and irritating object, and when my anger\nis excited, I can refuse it the arm it needs to satisfy itself.\"\n\nTo do this it is necessary to will it; but there is nothing so difficult\nas to will when the soul is possessed by a passion. The question is then\nto know how one may escape a ruling passion. To succeed in it one should\nnot attack it in front, but as much as possible turn the mind upon other\nobjects: it is with passion \"as with a river which is more easily turned\noff from its course than stopped short.\" A passion is often conquered by\nmeans of another passion, \"as in a State,\" says Bacon, \"where a prince\nrestrains one faction by means of another.\" Bossuet says even that it may\nbe well, in order to avoid criminal passions, to abandon one's self to\ninnocent ones.[159] One should also be careful in the choice of the\npersons he associates with: \"for nothing more arouses the passions than\nthe talk and actions of passionate men; whilst a quiet mind, provided its\nrepose be not feelingless and insipid, seems, on the contrary, to\ncommunicate to us its own peace. We need something lively that may accord\nwith our own feelings.\n\nIn a word, to conclude with Bossuet, \"we should try to calm excited minds\nby diverting them from the main object of their excitement; approach them\nobliquely rather than directly in front; that is to say, that when a\npassion is already excited, there is no time then to attack it by\nreasoning, for one drives it all the stronger in. Where wise reflections\nare of greatest effect is in the forestalling of passions. One should\ntherefore fill his mind with sensible thoughts, and accustom it early to\nproper inclinations, so that there be no room for the objects of\npassions.\"\n\n=178. Improvement of character.=--Bossuet has just informed us how we are\nto conduct ourselves in regard to the passions, as diseases of the soul.\nLet us now see how character, namely, temperament, may be modified.\n\nThe character is a collection of habits, a great part of which belong,\nunquestionably, to our natural inclinations, but which, nevertheless, are\nalso largely formed under the influence of education, circumstances,\nindulgence of passions, etc. It is thus character, \"this second nature,\"\nas it has often been called, gradually develops.\n\nCharacter being, as we have seen above, a habit, and virtue, on the other\nhand, being also a habit, the problem which presents itself to him who\nwishes to improve his character and exchange his vices for virtues, is to\nknow how one habit may be substituted for another, and how even a painful\nhabit may be substituted for an agreeable habit, sometimes for a habit\nwhich has lost its charm, but not yet its empire over one.\n\nThis problem may be found analyzed and most pathetically described in the\n_Confessions_ of St. Augustine:\n\n    \"I was,\" he tells us, \"like those who wish to get awake, but who,\n    overcome by sleep, fall back into slumber. There is certainly no one\n    who would wish to sleep always, and who would not rather, if he is\n    healthy of mind, prefer the waking to the sleeping state; and yet\n    there is nothing more difficult than to shake off the languor which\n    weighs our limbs down; and often, though the hour for waking has come,\n    we are against our will made captives by the sweetness of sleep.... I\n    was held back by the frivolous pleasures and foolish vanities which I\n    had found in the company of my former friends: they hung on the\n    vestures of my flesh, whispering, 'Art thou going to abandon us?'...\n    If, on the one hand, virtue attracted and persuaded me, pleasure on\n    the other captivated and enslaved me.... I had no other answer for the\n    former, than: 'Presently, presently, wait a little.' But this\n    'presently' had no end and this 'wait a little' was indefinitely\n    prolonged, Wretch that I am! who will deliver me from the body of this\n    death?\"[160]\n\nAt so painful a juncture, the Christian religion offers its children an\nall-powerful and efficacious remedy: this is what it calls _grace_. But of\nthis means moral philosophy cannot dispose; all it can do is to find in\nthe study of human nature the exclusively natural means God has endowed it\nwith, to elevate man to virtue. Now, these means, limited though they be,\nshould not be considered inefficient, since for many centuries they\nsufficed the greatest men and sages of antiquity.[161]\n\n=179. Rules of Malebranche and Aristotle.=--We may take for a starting\npoint this maxim of Malebranche, which he borrowed from Aristotle: _Acts\nproduce habits, and habits produce acts_.[162] A habit, in fact, is\ninduced by a certain number of often repeated actions; and once generated,\nit produces in its turn acts, so to say, spontaneous and without any\neffort of the will. Thence spring vices and virtues; and the problem is to\nknow how the first may be corrected, and the second retained: for the\nquestion is not only to pass from evil to good, but we should also take\ncare not to slide from good into evil.\n\nIf the first maxim of Malebranche were absolute, it would follow that the\nsoul could not change its habits, nor the bad man improve, nor the good\nbecome corrupt; it would follow that hope would be interdicted to the one,\nand that the other would have nothing more to fear; consequences which\nexperience shows to be entirely false. Some fanatical sects may have\nbelieved that virtue or holiness once attained could never again be\nlost,[163] and this belief served as a shield to the most shameful\ndisorders. Facts, on the contrary, teach us that there is no virtue so\ninfallible as to be secure against a fall, and no vice ever so deeply\nrooted that may not be lessened or destroyed. In fact, and this is\nMalebranche's second maxim: _One can always act against a ruling habit._\nIf one can act contrary to a positive habit, such acts often repeated may,\naccording to the first maxim, produce, by the effort of the will, a new\nhabit which will take the place of the preceding one. One can thus either\ncorrupt or correct one's self. Only, as the virtuous habits are the more\npainful to acquire, and the vicious habits the more agreeable, it will\nalways be more easy to pass from good to evil than from evil to good.\n\nHow shall we proceed to substitute a good habit for a bad one? Aristotle\nsays that when we have a defect to get rid of, we should throw ourselves\ninto the opposite extreme, so that after having removed ourselves with all\nour might from the dreaded fault we may in some respects, and through\nnatural elasticity, return to the just medium indicated by reason, just as\na bent wand straightens itself again when let go. This maxim may do in\ncertain cases and with certain characters, but it would have to be applied\ncautiously. One may, under the influence of enthusiasm, throw himself into\na violent extreme, and remain there for some time; but at the moment of\nreaction it is not impossible that, instead of stopping at the desired\nmedium, he may fall back into the first extreme again.\n\n=180. Rules of Bacon and Leibnitz.=--Bacon,[164] who did not find\nAristotle's maxim sufficient, tries to complete it by a few additional\nones:\n\n1. One should beware of beginning with too difficult tasks, and should\nproportion them to his strength--in a word, _proceed by degrees_. For\nexample, he who wishes to correct himself of his laziness, should not at\nonce impose too great a work upon himself, but he should every day work a\nlittle longer than the day before, until the habit is formed.\n\nIn order to render these exercises less painful, it is permitted to employ\nsome auxiliary means, like some one learning to swim will use bladders or\nwillow supports. After a little while the difficulties will be purposely\nincreased, like dancers who, to acquire agility, practice at first with\nvery heavy shoes.\n\n\"There is to be observed,\" adds Bacon, \"that there are certain vices (and\ndrunkenness is one of them) where it is dangerous to proceed by degrees\nonly, and where it is better to cut short at once and in an absolute\nmanner.\n\n2. The second maxim, where the question is of acquiring a new virtue, is\nto choose for it two different opportunities: the first when one feels\nbest disposed toward the kind of actions he may have in view; the second,\nwhen as ill disposed as possible, so as to take advantage of the first\nopportunity to make considerable headway, and of the second, to exercise\nthe energy of the will. This second rule is an excellent one, and truly\nefficacious.\n\n3. A third rule is, when one has conquered, or thinks he has conquered,\nhis temperament, not to trust it too much. It were well to remember here\nthe old maxim: \"_Drive away temperament_,\" etc., and remember AEsop's cat,\nwhich, metamorphosed into a woman, behaved very well at table until it\nespied a mouse.\n\nLeibnitz also gives us some good advice as to practical prudence, to teach\nus to triumph over ourselves, and expounds in his own way the same ideas\nas Bossuet and Bacon:\n\n\"When a man is in a good state of mind he should lay down for himself laws\nand rules for the future, and strictly adhere to them; he should,\naccording to the nature of the thing, either suddenly or gradually turn\nhis back upon all occasions liable to degrade him. A journey undertaken on\npurpose by a lover will cure him of his love; a sudden retreat will\nrelieve us of bad company. Francis Borgia, general of the Jesuits, who was\nfinally canonized, being accustomed to drink freely whilst yet a man of\nthe world, when he began to withdraw from it gradually reduced his\nallowance to the smallest amount by dropping every day a piece of wax into\nthe bowl he was in the habit of emptying. _To dangerous likings_ one must\noppose more innocent likings, such as agriculture, gardening, etc.; one\nmust shun idleness; make collections of natural history or art objects;\nengage in scientific experiments and investigations; one must make himself\nsome indispensable occupation, or, in default of such, engage in useful or\nagreeable conversation or reading. In a word, one should take advantage of\nall good impulses toward forming strong resolutions, as if they were the\nvoice of God calling us.[165]\n\n=181. Franklin's Almanac.=--To these maxims concerning the formation and\nperfecting of character, may fittingly be added the moral method which\nBenjamin Franklin adopted for his own improvement in virtue. He had made a\nlist of the qualities which he wished to acquire and develop within\nhimself, and had reduced them to thirteen principal ones. This\nclassification, which has no scientific value, appeared to him entirely\nsufficient for the end he had in view. These thirteen virtues are the\nfollowing: temperance, silence, order, resolution, frugality, industry,\nsincerity, justice, moderation, cleanliness, tranquillity, chastity,\nhumility.\n\nThis catalogue, once drawn up, Franklin, reflecting that it would be\ndifficult to fight at the same time thirteen defects and keep his mind on\nthirteen virtues, had an idea similar to that of Horatius in his combat\nwith the Curiatii: he resolved to fight his enemies one by one; he applied\nto morality the well-known principle of politicians: \"_Divide if thou wilt\nrule_.\"\n\n\"I made a little book,\" he says, \"in which I allotted a page for each of\nthe virtues. I ruled each page with red ink, so as to have seven columns,\none for each day of the week, marking each column with a letter for the\nday. I crossed these columns with thirteen red lines, marking the\nbeginning of each line with the first letter of one of the virtues; on\nwhich line, and in its proper column, I might mark, by a little black\nspot, every fault I found upon examination to have been committed\nrespecting that virtue upon that day.\n\n\"I determined to give a week's strict attention to each of the virtues\nsuccessively. Thus, in the first week, my great guard was to avoid even\nthe least offense against _temperance_; leaving the other virtues to their\nordinary chance, only marking every evening the faults of the day. Thus,\nif in the first week I could keep my first line, marked T, clear of spots,\nI supposed the habit of that virtue so much strengthened, and its opposite\nweakened, that I might venture extending my attention to include the next,\nand for the following week keep both lines clear of spots. Proceeding thus\nto the last, I could get through a course complete in thirteen weeks, and\nfour courses in a year. And, like him, who, having a garden to weed, does\nnot attempt to eradicate all the bad herbs at once, which would exceed his\nreach and his strength, but works on one of the beds at a time, and,\nhaving accomplished the first, proceeds to a second; so I should have, I\nhoped, the encouraging pleasure of seeing on my pages the progress made in\nvirtue, by clearing successively my lines of their spots; till, in the\nend, by a number of courses, I should be happy in viewing a clean book,\nafter a thirteen weeks' daily examination.\"\n\n=182. Maxim of Epictetus.=--The wise Epictetus gives us the same advice as\nFranklin: \"If you would not be of an angry temper,\" he says, \"then do not\nfeed the habit. Be quiet at first, then count the days where you have not\nbeen angry. You will say: 'I used to be angry every day; now every other\nday; then every third or fourth day, and if you miss it so long as thirty\ndays, offer a sacrifice to God.\"[166] He said, moreover: \"If you will\npractice self-control, take, when it is warm and you are thirsty, a\nmouthful of fresh water, and spit it out again, and tell no one.\"\n\n=183. Individual character--Cicero's maxims.=--The philosophers whom we\nhave just cited give us rules to combat and correct our temperament when\nit is vicious. Cicero, on the contrary, gives us others to maintain our\nindividual character and remain true to it; and these rules are no less\nuseful than the others. He justly observes that every man has his own\ninclinations which constitute his individual and original character.\n\"Some,\" he says, \"are more agile in the foot-race; others stronger at\nwrestling; these are more noble, those more graceful; Scaurus and Drusus\nwere singularly grave; Laelius, very merry; Socrates was playful and\namusing in conversation. Some are simple-minded and frank, others, like\nHannibal and Fabius, more crafty. In short, there is an infinite variety\nof manners and differences of character without their being for that\nblamable.\"[167]\n\nNow, this is a very sensible principle of Cicero, that we ought not to go\nagainst the inclinations of our nature when they are not vicious:\n\n  \"_In constraining our talents\n  We do nothing gracefully_,\"\n\nsaid the fabulist. \"Let each of us then know his own disposition, and be\nto himself a severe judge concerning his own defects and qualities. Let us\ndo as the players who do not always choose the finest parts, but those\nbest suited to their talent. AEsopus[168] did not often play the part of\nAjax.\" Cicero in this precept, \"that every one should remain true to his\nindividual character,\" goes so far as to justify Cato's suicide, for the\nreason that it accorded with his character. \"Others,\" he says, \"might be\nguilty in committing suicide; but in the case of Cato, he was right; it\nwas a duty; Cato ought to have died.\"[169] This is carrying the rights and\nduties of the individual character somewhat far; but it is certain that,\naside from the great general duties of humanity, which are the same for\nall men, each individual man has a role to play on earth, and this role\nis in part determined by our natural dispositions; now, we should yield to\nthese dispositions, when they are not vicious, and should develop them.\n\n=184. Self-examination.=--Finally, what is especially important, considered\nfrom a practical standpoint and in the light of moral discipline, is, that\neach one should render himself an exact account of his own disposition,\nhis defects, oddities, vices, so that he be able to correct them. Such was\nthe practical sense of that celebrated maxim formerly inscribed over the\ntemple at Delphi: \"Know thyself.\" This is Socrates' own interpretation of\nit in his conversations with his disciples: \"Tell me, Euthydemus, have you\never gone to Delphi?\"--\"Yes, twice.\"--\"And did you observe what is written\nsomewhere on the temple-wall: Know Thyself?\"--\"I did.\"--\"Think you that to\nknow one's self it is enough to know one's own name? Is there nothing more\nneeded? And as those who buy horses do not think they know the animal they\nwish to buy till they have examined it and discovered whether it is\nobedient or restive, vigorous or weak, swift or slow, etc., must we not\nlikewise know ourselves to judge what we are really\nworth?\"--\"Certainly.\"--\"It is then obvious that this knowledge of himself\nis to man a source of much good, whilst being in error about himself\nexposes him to a thousand evils. Those who know themselves well, know what\nis useful to them, discern what they can or cannot do; now, in doing what\nthey are capable of doing, they procure the necessaries of life and are\nhappy. Those who, on the contrary, do not know themselves, fail in all\ntheir enterprises, and fall into contempt and dishonor.\"[170]\n\n=185. Examination of the conscience.=--To know one's self well, it is\nnecessary to examine one's self. Hence a practice often recommended by\nmoralists, and particularly Christian moralists, known also by the\nancients, namely, the _examination of the conscience_.\n\nThere is a fine picture of it in Seneca's writings: \"We should,\" says the\nphilosopher, \"call, every day, our conscience to account. Thus did\nSextius; when his daily work was done, he questioned his soul: Of what\ndefect hast thou cured thyself to-day? What passion hast thou combated? In\nwhat hast thou become better? What more beautiful than this habit of going\nthus over the whole day!... I do the same, and being my own judge, I call\nmyself before my own tribunal. When the light has been carried away from\nmy room, I begin an inquest of the whole day; I examine all my actions and\nwords. I conceal nothing, allow myself nothing. And why should I hesitate\nto look at any of my faults when I can say to myself: Take care not to do\nso again: for to-day I forgive thee?\"[171]\n\nTo designate all the practices which experience of life has suggested to\nthe moralists, to induce men to better, correct, perfect themselves in\nright doing, would be an endless task. No better method in this respect\nthan to read the Christian moralists: Bossuet, Fenelon, Nicole,\nBourdaloue. The advice they give concerning the proper use of time,\nopportunities, temptations, false shame, loose conversations,\nperseverance, can be applied to morals as well as to religion. Reading,\nmeditation, proper company, good advice, selection of some great model to\nfollow, etc., are the principal means we should employ to perfect\nourselves in the right: \"If we extirpated and uprooted, every year, a\nsingle vice only, we should soon become perfect men.\"[172]\n\n=186. Kant's Catechism.=--An excellent practice in moral education is what\nKant calls a moral catechism, in which the master, under the form of\nquestions and answers, sums up the principles of morality. The pupil\nlearns thereby to account for ideas of which he is but vaguely conscious,\nand which he often confounds with principles of another order, with the\ninstinct of happiness, for example, or the consideration of\nself-interest.\n\nThe following are some extracts from Kant's _Moral Catechism_.[173]\n\n_Teacher._--What is thy greatest and even thy only wish on earth?\n\nThe pupil remains silent.[174]\n\n_Teacher._--Is it not always to succeed in everything according to thy\nwishes and will? How do we call such a state?\n\nThe pupil remains silent.\n\n_Teacher._--We call it _happiness_ (namely, constant prosperity, a life\nall satisfaction, and to be absolutely content with one's condition). Now,\nif thou hadst in thy hands all possible earthly happiness, wouldst thou\nkeep it wholly to thyself, or share it with thy fellow-beings?\n\n_Pupil._--I should share it with them; I should make others happy and\ncontented also.\n\n_Teacher._--This already shows that thou hast a good _heart_. Let us see\nnow if thou hast also a good _judgment_. Wouldst thou give to the idler\nsoft cushions; to the drunkard wine in abundance, and all else that will\nproduce drunkenness; to the rogue agreeable manners and a fine presence,\nthat he might the more easily deceive; to the violent man, audacity and a\nstrong fist?\n\n_Pupil._--Certainly not.\n\n_Teacher._--Thou seest then that if thou heldst all happiness in thy\nhands, thou wouldst not, without reflection, distribute it to each as he\ndesires; but thou wouldst ask thyself how far he is _worthy_ of it. Would\nit not also occur to thee to ask thyself whether thou art thyself worthy\nof happiness?\n\n_Pupil._--Undoubtedly.\n\n_Teacher._--Well, then, that which in thee inclines to happiness, is\ncalled _inclination_; that which judges that the first condition to enjoy\nhappiness is to be worthy of it, is the _reason_; and the faculty thou\nhast to overcome thy inclination by thy reason, is _liberty_. For example,\nif thou couldst without injuring any one procure to thyself or to one of\nthy friends a great advantage by means of an adroit falsehood, what says\nthy reason?\n\n_Pupil._--That I must not lie, whatever great advantage may result from it\nto me or to my friend. Falsehood is _degrading_, and renders man\n_unworthy_ of being happy. There is in this case absolute necessity\nimposed on me by a command or prohibition of my reason, and which should\nsilence all my inclinations.\n\n_Teacher._--What do we call this necessity of acting conformably to the\nlaw of reason?\n\n_Pupil._--We call it _duty_.\n\n_Teacher._--Thus is the observance of our duty the general condition on\nwhich we can alone be worthy of happiness. _To be worthy of happiness and\nto do one's duty is one and the same thing._\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX[175] TO CHAPTER VIII.\n\nTHE UNION OF CLASSES.\n\n\nA subject which has attracted much attention, and which is often referred\nto in conversation, in books, in political assemblies, is the various\n_classes_ of society; there are upper and lower classes, and between these\ntwo, a middle class. We speak of laboring classes, poor classes, rich\nclasses. These are expressions which it were desirable should disappear.\nThey relate to ancient customs, ancient facts, and in the present state of\nsociety correspond no longer to situations now all clearly defined. They\nare vestiges which last long after the facts to which they corresponded\nhave disappeared, and which retained are often followed by grave\nconsequences. They give rise to misunderstanding, false ideas, sentiments\nmore or less blameworthy. I should like to show that in the present state\nof society, there are no longer any classes, that there are only men,\nindividuals. The word _classes_, in a strict sense, can be applied only to\na state of society where social and natural advantages are conferred by\nthe law to certain men at the expense of others; where some can procure\nthese advantages whilst others never can; where the public burden weighs\non a certain class, on a certain number of men, whilst the others are\nentirely free from it, and this, I repeat, by the sanction of law, and by\nsocial organization.\n\nThis state of things has existed, with more or less differences and\nnotably great changes, in all past centuries. Its lowest degree is, for\nexample, that where it is impossible for certain men to procure to\nthemselves the goods desired by all, where they can never own any kind of\nproperty, however small, where they are themselves considered property;\nwhere, instead of being allowed to sell and buy, they are themselves sold\nand bought, themselves reduced to an object of commerce. This state is\nthat called _slavery_.\n\nSlavery, in its strict sense, is the state where man is the property of\nother men, is a thing; where he is bought and sold, and where his work\ndoes not belong to him, but to his master.\n\nThis state of things existed through all antiquity. Society, with the\nancients, was divided into two great _classes_ (the term is here perfectly\nin its place), classes very unequal in numbers, where the more numerous\nwere the property of the least numerous. The citizens, as they were\ncalled, or freemen, who constituted a part of the State, the Republic, had\nno need of working to make a living, because they owned living instruments\nof work--men.\n\nThis state of things, you well know, did not only exist in antiquity; it\nwas perpetuated till our days, and it is not very long since it still\nexisted in some of the greatest societies of the world. We may consider it\nat present as wholly done away with.\n\nA notch higher, we find the state called _serfdom_, where man is not\nwholly interdicted to own property, and where he is allowed a family,\nwhich fact constitutes the superiority of serfdom over slavery. It is\nobvious that in a state of slavery, there can be no family: a man, the\nproperty of another, liable to be bought and sold, can have no family.\nSerfdom, which in the Middle Ages existed in all European societies, and\nbut recently was abolished in Russia, allowed the individual a family, and\nin a certain measure even the right of property; but he was a part of the\nland on which he was born, and, like that land, belonged to a master, a\n_lord_.\n\nThe serf then was, as it is commonly called, attached to the _glebe_, to\nthe land, unable to leave it, unable to buy or sell except under extremely\nrestricted conditions, and thus a part of the soil on which he was born,\nhe belonged with that soil to his lord. This state of things was gradually\nbettered. The serfs, little by little, acquired by their work a small\ncapital; they succeeded in buying their liberty from their lords. It is\nthis which gave rise to that ancient society, called _ancien regime_,\nwhich preceded the French Revolution. But all men were not serfs; things\nhad not reached that point; serfdom had already been abolished by means of\ncertain contracts, certain sums of money which the workingmen paid as a\nsign of their former thraldom. Yet was there still in force much that was\niniquitous, forming what is called an aristocratic society, where, for\nexample, some men had the exclusive right of holding and transmitting to\ntheir children territorial property, which they were not allowed to put in\ntrade, the exclusive right of holding public functions, of having grades\nin the army, the right of hunting and fishing, etc. And conversely, on the\nother hand, whilst the minority enjoyed so exclusively all these\nprivileges, the costs of society rested on the greater number, and these\ncosts the serfs were obliged to pay. Hence a society in which there were\nclasses, since the law conferred social advantages on some in preference\nto others, and heavy burdens resting on some without resting on others.\n\nAs it is not my purpose to write here the history of modern society, I\nneed not enter into all the details of these facts, which are, besides,\nquite well known.\n\nYou all know that these great social injustices and iniquitous practices\ndisappeared at the time of the Revolution, and that the principal object\nof the French Revolution of 1789 was precisely to suppress all these\nprivileges conceded to some, and these burdens unequally imposed on\nothers. From that moment, there was equality in law, that is to say, that\nall men belonging to our present society are allowed to accumulate\nproperty, exercise public functions, rise to higher grades--in a word, are\nconsidered fit to obtain all the advantages which society has to offer,\nand which nature allows them to desire and acquire.\n\nSince 1789, society, as a matter of course, has continued to move in the\nsame grooves, and, thanks to work and competition, all that which still\nexisted by way of social inequalities has gradually disappeared; if, by\nchance, there still remain in our laws such vestiges of former inequality,\nthey will in time, and with the help of all enlightened men, disappear;\nfor it is now a truth fully recognized that the good of humanity demands\nthat at least all legal inequalities should be done away with, and that\nall men, without distinction, should be allowed to acquire any advantages\nwhich their special faculties, and the conditions wherein they are placed,\nenable them to acquire. I say, then, that this being the case, there is no\nreason why, in the present state of society, men should any longer be\ndesignated by classes. They are men, and men alone, and as such they\nshould be allowed to enjoy common advantages, to live by their\nwork--namely, to constitute themselves into families, to cultivate their\nintelligence, to worship God according to their conscience--in a word, to\nenjoy all the rights we call the rights of a man and citizen.\n\nBut when in a society all legal inequalities have been suppressed, does it\nnecessarily follow that an absolute equality will be the final result? No.\nSociety can only do away with inequalities of its own making; inequalities\nwhich, from causes we have not time here to set forth, were added to the\nalready existing natural inequalities. For there are natural inequalities;\ninequalities which may be called individual inequalities, there being no\ntwo persons in the world exactly the same. From this fact alone--men being\nin a thousand ways different from each other--it necessarily follows that\neach man's condition is different from that of his fellow-men. Hence an\ninfinite multitude of inequalities which have always existed and always\nwill exist, because they result from the nature of things; and such\ninequalities must be clearly distinguished from those dependent on the\nlaw.\n\nWhat now are the principal causes of these inequalities, which I call\nindividual inequalities? They are of two kinds: the inherent faculties of\nthe individual, and the circumstances wherein he is placed.\n\nThe faculties of the individual are the work of nature: they spring from\nhis moral and physical organization; and, as I have said above, there\nbeing no two men exactly alike, either physically or morally, it naturally\nfollows that there are differences, and these differences bring with them\ninequalities. Let us, for instance, take the most important of all these\ndifferences, namely, physical strength, health. Man is a living being, an\norganized being, and his organization is subject to the most delicate,\nmost numerous, most complicated conditions. Hence many differences. Some\nare born strong, robust, able to brave all kinds of temperatures, all\nsorts of trials--trials of work, of outside events, sometimes the trials\nof their own excesses even.\n\nOthers, on the contrary, are born with a feeble constitution; they are\nweak, delicate, they cannot bear trials the same as the others.\n\nThis is a first difference, and this difference, you well know, may be\nsubdivided into a multitude of others; for there are no two individuals\nequally healthy, equally strong. What will be the natural result? This,\nfor example: that where strength is required (and every one needs more or\nless physical strength to accomplish certain heavy works), the strongest\nwill have the advantage over the others; and, after a certain time, of two\nmen who started at the same time, under the same conditions, with equal\nmoral advantages, one, owing to his physical strength, shall have\naccomplished a great deal, and the other less; one shall have earned much,\nthe other little: their career is unequal.\n\nBut it is not always the greater physical strength and health which\ndetermine in man his capacity for work; and it is a notable fact, and a\nmatter upon which it is well to insist, namely, that all differences are\ncompensated for, balance themselves, so to say; that such a one, for\nexample, who, in some respect and from a certain point of view, may be\ninferior to another, may from another standpoint be superior to him;\nwhich, again, is as much as to say that there are no classes in society;\nfor if the one who in one respect is inferior to his fellow-man, is in\nanother superior to him, they are equals.\n\nIn the class called the laboring class, for example, we see every day that\nit is not always the strongest and the healthiest that produce the largest\namount of work; and love of work is a notable factor in this scale of\nphysical strength, making the balance pretty even. For some delicate men\nare industrious, whilst others who are stronger are not; some have a\nnatural liking for their work, whilst others again have not. Hence a\ndifference in the character of their work, and, consequently, in the\nremuneration of it.\n\nA third difference is that of the _intelligence_. All men have received\nfrom nature a special gift which distinguishes them from the animals, and\nwhich we call intelligence; but they have not received it all to the same\ndegree. Not all men have the same intellectual faculties, and every one\nknows how great an element of success intelligence is in all functions, in\nall departments of human activity, even in those requiring above all\nphysical strength and the use of the hands. It is well known that even the\nlatter find in intelligence their best auxiliary; that it procures them an\ninvaluable advantage, even over those whose physical strength, facility,\nardor, tenacity in work, would seem to forestall all rivalry.\n\nThere is finally a fourth element which is also inherent in the individual\nman, and which distinguishes one man from the other, and this is\n_morality_. We all know that morality, independently of its own merit, its\nincomparable, intrinsic merit, a merit which cannot be estimated by its\nfruits, is of itself alone one of the greatest factors in bringing about\nimportant results in practical life. We all know that even setting aside\nthe intrinsic worth of morality--honesty, virtue--the work resulting from\nour physical efforts is greatly enhanced by this precious element. We all\nknow that economy, sobriety, a spirit of peace and concord, devotion to\nthe family--in short, all moral elements--give to him who exercises them a\nvast superiority over his fellows who do not, despite his intellectual and\nphysical disadvantages.\n\nWhen I say that morality is an element of inequality, I wish to be\nunderstood rightly. There are, it is true, moral inequalities among men;\nand from these moral inequalities spring others; but morality is not in\nitself a principle of inequality, for what precisely constitutes morality,\nis that all men can equally attain to it; that it wholly depends on the\nindividual man to attain to it or not. So that if, on this point, a man\nfinds himself inferior to another, he can blame no one for it but himself.\n\nHere, then, is a point where the law is of no avail; where it is evident\nthat man is the master of his actions, and gains for himself what morality\nhe wishes; if, then, there results from this a certain inequality among\nmen, this inequality is to be attributed to the free-will of the\nindividual man, who did not profit by the admirable gift Providence has\nendowed him with--namely, moral liberty--and by means of which he can\nchoose between the right and the wrong.\n\nYou see, then, that there are many causes differentiating men from each\nother, and in such a manner that it is impossible to define them strictly.\nWe cannot say: there are on the one hand the strong, and on the other the\nweak; on the one the intelligent, on the other the feeble-minded, because\nall these elements so combine as to compensate for one another. Once\nmore, he who is least favored in one direction, may be better favored in\nanother; he who has an inferior share of intelligence and physical\nstrength, may be the first in will-power. We can thus always fill out\nnatural inequalities, and correct and overcome them by an effort of the\nwill.\n\nStill, however that may be, and despite all effort of individual\nwill-power and moral energy, there unquestionably result from these\nindividual differences a multitude of different conditions among men.\nBesides, and independently of these purely inward causes due to both the\nphysical and moral constitution of the individual man, there are yet\noutward causes of inequality. These are the circumstances, the conditions\nwherein we are born and live.\n\nWe are all more or less dependent on the physical and social conditions\nwhich surround us. It is quite certain that birth, for example, is a\ncircumstance wholly independent of the will of man. Some are born in the\nmost favorable, some in the least favorable social conditions--some rich,\nsome poor; facts which depend neither on their constitution nor on their\nwill. There are, moreover, still other outward circumstances. One may be\nborn in a rich, a civilized, an enlightened, a progressive country, or in\na poor, barbarous, benighted country. One may live in a place where there\nis every means of education, of making a living, of improving one's self,\nwhere there may be a thousand favorable openings for a man, and again, on\nthe contrary, in a place far away from all civilization, without\nopportunities for work, without enlightenment, without means of\ncommunication with other men. All such circumstances are independent of\nthe will of the individual man, and can only be corrected in time and\nthrough the progress of civilization, which gradually equalizes all\ncountries.\n\nThere are yet, besides all this, what is generally called the happy and\nunhappy chances of life. Everybody knows that human events do not always\nrun as one would wish them, that things turn out more or less fortunately,\nas circumstances, and not men, order them. One may, for instance, get\nsick, when he has most need of health; a wife loses her husband, the\nsupport of her family, when she has most need of him; one may engage in an\nenterprise apparently founded on the best conditions of success: this\nenterprise fails on account of unexpected events, and without its being\nany one's fault. In commerce, for instance, we see every day the most\nunfortunate consequences of outward circumstances, against which one is\nutterly helpless, because, in commerce especially, there is a large share\nto be left to chance, to the unknown, which no one can calculate\nbeforehand. Now, all such unexpected events, as they are realized,\noverthrow all our plans, and are cause that some attain to wealth, and\nothers fall into poverty. Farmers particularly know but too well how\ndependent they are on outward circumstances. Cold, heat, rain, are for\nthem elements of fortune or misery, and they are elements over which they\nhave no control whatsoever.\n\nNow these elements, working blindly, as it would seem, are the chief cause\nof the great diversity of human conditions. Some, it is said, are lucky;\nothers are not; some meet with favorable circumstances, others with\ncontrary and fatal circumstances. Everything seems to co-operate toward\ncrushing some, whilst everything again favors the success of others. These\ncauses are innumerable, and could be multiplied _ad infinitum_; they\nexplain the infinite variety of human conditions, how there are none\nexactly similar, and how there are consequently no two men exactly alike.\n\nThey are equals as men, in the sense that they have the same rights to\njustice, to truth; the same rights of conscience; but they are not equals\nas to their circumstances, which circumstances, as we have seen, vary in\nevery respect. But, it may be asked, why all these inequalities? Why are\nsome happy and others unhappy? Why some rich, fortunate, powerful,\nintelligent, virtuous even? (for it would almost seem that up to a certain\npoint, virtue also depends on social position, since those who are born in\na more elevated condition have greater facilities to exercise virtue); why\nare others, on the contrary, unfortunate, obliged to work so hard to\narrive at such poor results; to be scarcely able to make a living for\nthemselves or their family? Certainly these are indeed most grave and\nserious questions. But, what I contend for is, that it is not to society\nwe should put these questions, but to Providence, who has made life what\nit is. Society can do but one thing, namely, not to add to natural\ninequalities, social ones. It can also, to a certain degree, lessen the\nnatural inequalities; but it is not wholly responsible for man's moral and\nphysical constitution; it is not wholly responsible for the course of\nevents in the world; so that if we would know why things are thus\nfashioned, we must rise higher; we must not make our fellow-men or society\nin general answerable for them. I only add that, as legal inequalities\ndisappear, so will the natural inequalities also vanish, and this is the\nessential point. Natural inequalities cannot be wholly corrected, for the\nreasons above stated; but as society, in doing away with legal\ninequalities, strives to lessen the share of responsibility it has\nheretofore had in these inequalities, the natural inequalities must\nnecessarily grow less, and for the simple reason that avenues being opened\nto man to enjoy the fruit of his labor, and acquire the rights society\nholds now out to him, he will be able to fill out these natural\ninequalities. The inequality of intelligence was largely due to want of\nculture. As soon as men shall be educated, enlightened, shall themselves\nendeavor to learn, the differences in human intelligence will gradually\ndisappear; for it has been observed that as civilization progresses, the\nnumber of great men diminishes, and what was formerly called genius, is\nlost in the larger development of society. This may be only an illusion,\nfor genius never changes; only as the existing differences among men\nbecome lessened, the inequalities which separated the great men from the\nrest are less obvious.\n\nThus, the more you shall put into the hands of men, and if possible of all\nmen, means for educating themselves, the more you will find these\ndifferences vanish; the more will they grow like each other, the more will\nhuman intelligence become equalized.\n\nOn the other hand, as social and legal inequalities disappear, public\nprosperity, public wealth, public comforts, will increase at the same\nrate. As the physical strength of men develops, so will the means of\ncombating infirmities, diseases, all that weakened, enervated, depraved\nthe populations, develop also. As the moral differences diminish (not\nindeed in the sense that every one will reach the same degree of\nvirtue--that is impossible), the rudeness, the brutality, certain odious\nvices due to ignorance, to barbarous manners, to the insufficient means of\ncommunication with each other, will gradually disappear; and thus, in\nrespect to civilization also, will men grow more like each other.\n\nYou see, then, that by culture, by the progress of civilization, all these\ninequalities due to outward circumstances, may be combated. Society at the\npresent time, being more ingenious, more enlightened, more clever than in\npast days, has at its command a multitude of means wherewith, if not to\ndestroy, at least to reduce the ill effects of outward chances. That, for\nexample, which we call _life-insurance_, is very effective indeed in\ncombating misfortune. By means of a small sacrifice, every man may in some\nrespect protect himself against chances which formerly reduced a large\npart of the population to misery. It is the same with other similar\nsocieties of mutual assistance and benefit; they will increase in\nproportion to general progress, and will largely counteract the unhappy\nresults of such inequalities as may be combated by human industry.\n\nI go still further; I maintain that the inequalities above noted not only\nshould not be imputed to society, but not even to Providence. They are\nlegitimate and useful; they are the necessary stimulant to work. It is\nbecause of that very great variety of conditions that men make the proper\nefforts to better them, and that by these efforts, by this common labor,\nsociety progresses.\n\nWhy does every one work? Is it not that each sees above him a position he\ncovets, and which he seeks to secure? It is not the first of positions,\nnor the highest, for man does not think of those too far above him, nor\nshould he; but the next best, such as others like him occupy, he can\nattain. If he earns a little money only, he tries to earn more; if he is\nonly a workman, he may become a foreman; if only a foreman, a master; if\nonly a master, a capitalist. He who is but a third clerk will want to be\nsecond clerk; he who is second will want to be first; and thus through the\nwhole series of degrees. Now, it is just the possibility of securing a\nbetter situation than the one we are in that stimulates us to work and\nmake the necessary efforts. Suppose (a thing, of course, impossible) that\nall men could be assured of a sufficient quantity of daily bread equally\ndistributed among them, human activity would at once come to a stop, human\nwork would cease; society would consequently become impoverished, and,\nbecoming impoverished, even the small portion each one is satisfied with\ncould no longer be possible, and they would have to fall back upon work\nagain. Work requires a stimulant, and it is the inequality of human\nconditions which furnishes this stimulant.\n\nSocieties are like individuals. Every society has always before its eyes a\ncondition better than the one it is in, a state of greater material\nprosperity, of greater intellectual development; and it is because we long\nto reach that superior state that society strives after improvement. There\nare, indeed, societies that are indifferent to this; that do not\nexperience such a want; but such peoples remain stagnant in their\nbarbarous ignorance; they never advance. It is the civilized nations who\nare not satisfied with their condition, and where every one endeavors to\nbetter his own. We should, therefore, look upon the inequalities which\nfavor individual development, which assist the progress of the race, which\nexcite every man to make an effort to better his condition, as truly\ndesirable.\n\nI have demonstrated how the great legal inequalities which, before the\nFrench Revolution, authorized the division of society into classes, have\nnow disappeared, and that what remains, and must of necessity remain, are\nthe natural inequalities resting, on the one hand, on individual\nfaculties, and on the other, on the diversity and the inequality of the\nconditions wherein we are placed. Let us now see whether in these\nconditions there is something requiring society to be divided into\nparts:--some people above, some below, some in the middle, and whether\neach of these parts should be called a class. I look in vain for anything\nwhereon such distinctions could be based. Let us take the most natural\nfact which could serve as a basis for such distinctions--namely, fortune,\nwealth.\n\nIt is said: there are the rich and the poor. But what more vague than such\nterms? Where does poverty stop? Undoubtedly, there are wretched people in\nall societies. There is no society wholly free of poor unfortunates, so\nunfortunate as to require the assistance of others. It is what we call\nbeggary, and it exists in all societies. But this is not an element which\nmay be said to constitute a class. It is not any more correct to say the\nclass of beggars than the class of invalids. There are invalids in all\nsocieties, and we are all subject to becoming invalids, but we cannot say\nthat there is a class of invalids. Those who are ill are to be pitied, but\nthey do not, I repeat, constitute a class, which would allow us to divide\nsociety into two parts: a class of people that are well and people that\nare sick. The same with beggary; it is an anomaly, an unfortunate\nexception to the rule, and very sad for those who are its victims, but it\ndoes not constitute a class. Yet it is not this we generally understand by\nthe poor and the rich classes. We understand by rich those who have a\ncertain appearance of well-being; and by poor those who work more or less\nwith their hands. Now, there is nothing more false than such a\ndistinction, for, among those called rich, there are many that are poor,\nand wealth and poverty are not generally absolutely different. It depends\non the relations between the wants and the means of satisfying them.\n\nHow many among physicians, lawyers, artists, for example--among men who\nbelong to what we call the middle class--are, I ask, not only poor, but\nwretched? How are we to know them? What is it marks in society the rich\nand the poor? Here we have, for instance, country people, good folks, who\nhave never opened a book, who do not know A from B, and who are rich; and\nagain others of the middle class who are poor. The conditions in society\nso intertwine that it is impossible to cut it in two and say: these are\nthe rich classes, these the poor. There is an infinite variety of degrees,\neach having some sort of property, the one more, the other less. In such a\nnumber of degrees it is impossible to distinguish precisely the beginning\nor the end. We admit these individual inequalities, and as many different\nconditions as there are individuals; but there are no classes, and no one\ncould tell their beginnings and ends. How could you determine the amount\nof property requisite to belong to either of these categories--the rich or\nthe poor? Shall you say that the rich man is he who has any capital, and\nthe poor, he who has not any? There are many people with capital that are\npoor, and many without who are very well off. These are but arbitrary\ndistinctions.\n\nUpon what, then, shall we base class differences? On the professions? On\nthose who exercise public functions and those who do not? But this would,\nin the first place, be a very unequal division; for the number of public\nfunctionaries is very small in comparison with the immense mass of people\nwho have no public profession. And again, wherein is the public\nfunctionary superior to this or that merchant, this or that big farmer,\nthis or that great builder or contractor? It is impossible to say; for in\nthe hierarchy of functionaries there is also a top, a middle, a bottom,\nwith an infinite variety of degrees in each.\n\nTake the nobility. But who in these days troubles himself about\naristocratic names? They are, unquestionably, valuable _souvenirs_ for\nthose who can boast of them--of great historical names, for instance;\nnames which have played a part in history; they are grand recollections to\ncherish and respect, but they give him who possesses them but very feeble\nadvantages. It is not very long since there might have been found some\nlegitimate ground for the class distinctions we are examining, namely, in\npolitical rights, at a time when some few enjoyed political rights and a\ngreat many had none; but this time has gone by, this inequality is also\nwiped out; there are no more political classes than there are social\nclasses.\n\nShall we take material work--work of hand, as a class distinction among\nmen? We hear often the term _laboring classes_--men, namely, who live by\nwork of hand; but are not those who work with their brains, workers also?\nThere are a thousand kinds of work, and it is not absolutely necessary one\nshould work with his hands to be a worker. Besides, there are many people\nworking with their hands, who do not belong to what is usually understood\nby the laboring class: the painters, sculptors, chemists, surgeons; all\nthese people work with their hands. You see, then, that, look at it as you\nwill, it will be very difficult to find distinctive signs whereby society\ncould be divided into classes.\n\nThere are groups of workers; groups formed by the variety of work which\nhas to be done. Everybody cannot do the same thing in society. Political\neconomy teaches a very true and necessary law, called division of labor.\nIn order that a certain piece of work be well done, its different parts\nmust be distributed among those who are capable of executing them; and the\nmore each one will exclusively attend to the portion allotted to him, the\nbetter will the work be done.\n\nIt is the same with society. Society is a great work-shop, a vast factory,\nwhere there are a great many different kinds of work to be done. Each must\ndo his share. Hence various groups of workers. Some cultivate the land,\nbecause men must be fed; some engage in industrial pursuits, for men must\nbe clothed, must be housed against the inclemencies of the weather; then\nthere is justice to be rendered; there are some needed to protect the\nlaborers; men must also be educated and need educators. There are roads to\nbe made, railroads to be laid, laws to be enforced, and all this gives\nrise to a multitude of functions, a large number of groups of workers,\neach working in the line which has been determined, more or less, by\nbirth, circumstances, or natural ability. Shall we still say that each of\nthese groups forms a class? Shall it be the military class, because it is\ncomposed of soldiers; the class of ecclesiastics, because composed of\npriests; the teaching class, because composed of teachers? In no wise.\nThen should we neither speak of the laboring classes--of the middle\nclasses.\n\nThere is, I repeat, but one society, and that society composed of an\ninfinite number of individuals; all differing from each other by reason of\ntheir various natural endowments and the outward conditions in which they\nare placed. They are subdivided into groups which more or less blend with\neach other, are more or less dependent on each other.\n\nThere is, however, a sign whereby men may be distinguished from each\nother, and that is education: difference in instruction and culture; and\nthis is in these days the only kind of difference that can still exist\namong them.\n\nHow is this to be remedied? In two ways: in observing the duties of\nsociety and the duties of individuals. Society at this present moment is\ndoing all in its power to bring education within the reach of all, and\naccording to the particular need of each. Of course all are not obliged to\nlearn the same things. Even among the most enlightened, there are some\nwho, relatively to others, are quite ignorant. So that there are degrees\nhere also. But still there is a certain common ground of customary,\nuseful, necessary knowledge, which brings all together:--the education\ncommon to all, and which is as a bond between them. Society is doing its\nbest in extending this education, propagating it, developing it; and men\nshould do their best toward it. It depends, therefore, on the individual\nman to do away with this last inequality. It behooves us, then, to\ndisseminate education and instruction, as far as it lies in our power; and\nit behooves those who have not yet enjoyed it to make every effort to\nimprove themselves.\n\nFinally, connected with education, there is a feature which also\nestablishes a certain difference between men: good manners; good habits;\ngood morals; all of which are distinguishing, differentiating, traits. On\nwhom is it incumbent to do away with such inequalities? On us all. Each of\nus, in his own individual sphere of life, must break down the barrier that\nseparates him from the one above him; he must rise up to him, not so much\nthrough morality, for morality is the same below as above, but through his\nmanners, his habits, his dignity, sobriety, politeness, he must win his\nesteem.\n\nThis is accomplished rather through education than instruction, for it is\neducation that makes men good-natured, so that it will be through\neducation that the last inequality between men will be effaced.\n\nI say, then, that we should as much as possible work toward this end, and\nabove all avoid using expressions which tend to separate men from each\nother. These expressions belong to a past age; they were perpetuated by\nusage, and still uphold certain imaginary rights, and modes of\nthinking--certain prejudices and sentiments which divide society into two\nparts, and cause it to believe that it is so divided from necessity. In\nindulging in such prejudices, what in fact is but an imaginary division\nbecomes a real one.\n\nIt is, therefore, this imaginary division of classes which must be done\naway with; for it is from the imagination that all these feelings of\ndistrust, and jealousy, and ill-will generally spring; and they should be\ncombated resolutely, for they carry with them very lamentable\nconsequences. The remedy is where the evil is. These old prejudices\nresiding in the imagination, it is the imagination we should correct. We\nmust accustom ourselves to think differently; we must look upon ourselves\nnot as belonging to a particular class, but to one and the same society, a\nsociety of men, men all equals and in different social conditions, all\nentitled to the same rights.\n\nIt is, therefore, in reciprocal good feeling, in the heart of men rather\nthan in any legal reform, that the true safety of society resides. We must\ngive up those old notions which cause some to imagine that they are\noppressed, or threatened, or prevented to rise in the social scale, and\nothers, that they run the danger of being dispossessed of their\nprivileges. There is in such antagonism far greater danger than in the\nactual evils both sides complain of.\n\nTo do away with it only requires reciprocal good-will, kindness, readiness\nto understand each other. The reform which has taken place in our laws,\nmust take place in our minds also. Class feeling must be suppressed, and\nthere will then appear a truly human society, all being united by\nbrotherly love.\n\n\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] No. CLIX.--July 1, 1884, pp. 246, 247.\n\n[2] The fifth collegiate year will be devoted to theoretical morality.\n\n[3] The word enthusiasm comes from a Greek word signifying, to be filled\nwith a god.\n\n[4] Drive away nature, and it gallops back again. Lafontaine has said the\nsame thing: \"Shut the door against its nose, and it will return by the\nwindow.\"\n\n[5] J. J. Rousseau, _Emile_.\n\n[6] Kant, _Doctrine de la vertu_. French translation of J. Barni, p. 171.\n\n[7] Kant is wrong in rejecting these two maxims, interpreting them in the\nsense we have just refuted.\n\n[8] Chapter I., page 22.\n\n[9] It would seem here that negative gratitude becomes confounded with\nnegative ingratitude; the one doing no harm, the other doing no good; it\nwould seem as one and the same condition, wherein neither harm nor good is\ndone; but the distinction exists nevertheless; for the question, on the\none hand, is to do no harm when tempted to do some, and on the other, not\nto do any good when there is an occasion for it. For example, he who\ndespoils others, but abstains before his benefactor, experiences a certain\ndegree of gratitude, and he who does good to his friends and flatterers\naround him, and does not do any to his benefactor, is already ungrateful.\n\n[10] These questions will be examined more in detail in the next chapter.\n\n[11] See chapter IV.\n\n[12] Lawyers make a distinction between _possession_ and _property_. The\nfirst consists simply in having the object in use; the second, in enjoying\nits exclusive use, even if the object were not naturally in one's hands.\n\n[13] Victor Cousin, _The True, the Beautiful, and the Good_ (lectures xxi.\nand xxii.).\n\n[14] Which is to say that the acts are nothing if the heart is absent.\n\n[15] St. Paul, 1 Cor., xiii., 1-7.\n\n[16] In the _Provinciales_ this apostrophe is addressed to the Jesuits,\nwhom Pascal accuses of loose maxims on the subject.\n\n[17] _Le Devoir._ Part iv., Ch. iii.\n\n[18] In Tuscany the penalty of death was abolished in the eighteenth\ncentury by the Grand Duke Leopold. It was again established with the Grand\nDuchy's annexation to the Kingdom of Italy. In Switzerland, after being\nabolished by the Confederation, the penalty of death was finally left to\nbe determined by each particular canton.\n\n[19] It answers the frequent assertion that the courtesy and regards which\nmen owe each other reciprocally, would soon disappear if they were not\nprotected by the resource of the duel.\n\n[20] Jules Simon, _La Liberte_, ii. part, ch. iii.\n\n[21] Thus we see Saint Simonian ideas completely disappear from the modern\nsocialistic sects which all tend to blend with the equality-communism pure\nand simple.\n\n[22] On the question of property, see Thiers, _La Propriete_ (1848) and\nthe _Harmonies economiques de Bastiat_, ch. viii.\n\n[23] See in the _Harmonies economiques_ viii., that ingenious and\nsubstantial theory which shows the growing progress of the community by\nreason of property.\n\n[24] See especially about the question of interest, the controversy\nbetween Proudhon and Bastiat. (Works of Bastiat, vol. v., _Gratuity of\nCredit_.)\n\n[25] Mode of reckoning in the time of Louis XIV.\n\n[26] The scene between father and son in _The Miser_ (Sc. ii., Act iii.).\n\n[27] See, in Moliere's _Don Juan_, the charming scene between Don Juan and\nMr. Dimanche.\n\n[28] \"Things lost cannot give rise to an action for theft, when the\nfinder, after having looked for their proprietor in vain, and only\nretained them when his researches proved fruitless, has ascertained that\nthe proprietor will not present himself. But if the thing has been taken\nwith the intention of appropriating it, if it has an owner, although\nunknown, there is no doubt about the delinquency.\" (Faustin-Helie, _Droit\npenal_, iv. edit., Lecon v., p. 66.)\n\n[29] The play in Latin is on the words _otiandi_ and\n_negotiandi_.--Translator.\n\n[30] _De Officiis_, Book III., ch. xiv.\n\n[31] Definition of the canon law.\n\n[32] _Digest_, II., Sec. 3, _De Furtis_.\n\n[33] _Traite des obligations_, Part I., ch. i., Sec. 2.\n\n[34] See Racine's tragedy of Phedre.\n\n[35] Puffendorf, _Of the Duties of Man and the Citizen_, ii., c. ix., Sec.\n18.\n\n[36] In the United States children can, in the case of neglect by their\nparents, make contracts which are obligatory for whatever is necessary for\nthem.\n\n[37] Our Code does not admit that a mistake touching the person, vitiates\nthe consent of the contractors, unless this consideration be the principal\ncause of the agreement.\n\n[38] _Esprit des Lois_, XV., iv. The stipulations which Montesquieu\ndemanded have been made, and have led to the suppression, or at least to a\ngreat diminution, of the slave-trade.\n\n[39] By _maitrise_ was understood the rank or degree of master; and\n_jurandes_ was the name of an annual office by means of which the affairs\nof the corporation were administered: it also meant the assembly of\nworkmen, who had lent the customary oath.\n\n[40] Beaumarchais, _Barbier de Seville_.\n\n[41] Nicole does not give any examples; but it is evident, for instance,\nthat it is a graver fault to rashly incriminate the _integrity_ of a\nfunctionary than his _incapacity_, the _chastity_ of a woman than her\n_economy_.\n\n[42] Nicole belonged to the sect of the Jansenists, celebrated for the\nharshness and rigidity of their morality.\n\n[43] It is also called _commutative_ justice, somewhat improperly, in\ntaking for its type the act of exchange, where one gives the equivalent of\nwhat he receives; but this expression is only truly correct when it\ntouches upon property, and particularly upon sale, trust, loan. But the\nterm _commutative_ has no longer much meaning when applied to the respect\ndue to the life, the liberty, or the honor of others. Nevertheless, it is\nnecessary to be familiar with the expression, as it is usually opposed to\n_distributive_ justice.\n\n[44] _Nepotism_ is the custom of advancing to desirable posts the members\nof one's family; _simony_ (which has especially to do with the Church)\nconsisted in the purchase of the ecclesiastical functions: the term may\nalso, by extension, be applied to lay functions.\n\n[45] We give on the next page an analysis of this Essay.\n\n[46] Jouffret, _De la politesse_ (_A Lecture at the distribution of prizes\nat the Tournon Lyceum_, Tournon. 1880).\n\n[47] Lamennais, _Paroles d'un Croyant_, xv.\n\n[48] Kant, _Doctrine de la vertu_, trad. Barni, p. 160.\n\n[49] It is the question debated between Alceste and Philinte in the first\nscene of the _Misanthrope_.\n\n[50] Kant, _Doc. de la vertu_, trad. de Barni, p. 155.\n\n[51] See Puffendorf, _Droits de la nature et des gens_, III., ch. iii.\n\n[52] See our _Morale_, liv. II., ch. v.\n\n[53] Abstinence from the flesh of animals was based by Pythagoras, as it\nwas with the Brahmins, upon the doctrine of metempsychosis.\n\n[54] The question is as to the acts themselves, and not their abuse.\n\n[55] A philosopher of the school of Descartes, who, like his master,\ntaught that animals are machines.\n\n[56] _Education progressive_, VI., iv.\n\n[57] _Bulletin de la Societe Protectrice des Animaux._ June, 1868.\n\n[58] Law of the 2d July, 1850, called _Grammont Law_: \"Shall be punishable\nby a fine of from five to fifteen francs, or from one to five days'\nimprisonment, any one who shall publicly and abusively have maltreated\ndomestic animals. In case of repetition of the offence, imprisonment.\"\n\nA society--_Societe Protectrice des Animaux_--has been formed to come in\naid to the law. The principal articles of its statutes are: \"The aim of\nthe society is to ameliorate, by all the means in its power, and\nconformably to the law of the 2d of July, 1850, the condition of animals.\nThe society awards recompenses to any propagating its work and inventing\nproper means to the relief of animals; to the agents of the police,\npointed out by their chiefs as having enforced the laws and regulations\nfor the prevention of cruelty and ill-treatment towards animals;--to the\nagents of agriculture, shepherds, farm-help, farmers, leaders of\ncattle;--to coachmen, butcher-boys, smiths--in short, to any person who,\nin some high degree, shall have given proof of good treatment, intelligent\nand continued care and compassion toward animals.\" See in its _Bulletins_,\nthe useful results obtained by this interesting society.\n\n[59] _Traite elementaire de philosophie_, p. 262.\n\n[60] Concerning these three powers, see Montesquieu, _Esprit des lois_,\nI., xi.\n\n[61] See on this subject the _Notions d'instruction civique_.\n\n[62] Prosopopoeia in rhetoric is the form of expression which consists\nin animating physical or abstract things, in lending them \"a soul, a mind,\na visage\" (Boileau), in making them speak or being spoken to as if they\nwere present and living. In _Crito_, the laws are personified, and it is\nthey that speak.\n\n[63] _Droits et devoirs de l'homme_, Henri Marion, Paris, 1880, p. 67.\n\n[64] The preceding quotation is from our _Philosophie du bonheur_.\n\n[65] _Philosophie sociale_, Essai sur les devoirs de l'homme et du\ncitoyen, par l'abbe Durosoi (Paris, 1783).\n\n[66] Marshal Marmont was accused of treason for having accepted the\ncapitulation of Essonne, which was perhaps imposed upon him by necessity.\n\n[67] The _liberum veto_ in Poland was the right of each representative to\noppose the veto of the laws which were voted unanimously.\n\n[68] Montaigne thus expressed himself in regard to marriage: \"A good\nmarriage is a sweet society for life, full of constancy, troubles, and an\ninfinite number of useful and substantial services and mutual\nobligations.\"\n\n[69] Ad. Garnier, _Morale sociale_ I., ii., p. 104.\n\n[70] See our book, _La Famille_, 3d lecture. We take the liberty to refer\nthe reader to this book for the development of the subject.\n\n[71] Xenophon.\n\n[72] A. Garnier, _Morale sociale_.\n\n[73] The law of divorce has since been passed again in France.--[Transl.]\n\n[74] David Hume, _Essays_.\n\n[75] A great German moralist, Fichte, denies, however, people having a\nright to voluntarily and systematically renounce marriage: \"An unmarried\nperson,\" he says, \"is but half a person. A fixed resolution not to marry\nis absolutely contrary to duty. Not to marry is, without its being one's\nfault, a great misfortune; but not to marry through one's fault is a great\nfault (_Durch seine Schuld, eine grosse Schuld_). It is not permitted to\nsacrifice this end to other ends, even where the service of the Church, or\nfamily or State duties, or, in fine, the repose of a contemplative life,\nare concerned; for there is no higher end for man than to be a complete\nman.\" There is much truth in these words of Fichte, yet may we be\npermitted to think that his doctrine in this respect is pushed to excess,\nas well as that which forbids second marriages.\n\n[76] _La Famille._ 4th Lecture.\n\n[77] _Du droit de la guerre et de la paix_, I., II. ch. v. Sec. 2.\n\n[78] And that may be questioned.\n\n[79] This duty to-day is imposed by law: \"Primary instruction is\nobligatory for children of both sexes from six to thirteen years.\" (Law of\nthe 28th March, 1882, art. 4.)\n\n[80] Fichte, _System der Sittenlehre_, Pt. III., ch. iii., Sec. 29.\n\n[81] _Doctrine of happiness._\n\n[82] Fichte is right here when he speaks of the exaggeration of this\nprinciple. But the principle itself is a true one, namely, that one should\naccustom children to act according to their own reason: it is the only\nmeans of teaching them liberty.\n\n[83] The Dialogues of Plato. Laws. B. Jowett's Translation, B. IV., 238.\n\n[84] Xenophon's _Memorabilia of Socrates_, translation by J. S. Watson, B.\nII., Chap. 2.\n\n[85] Xenophon's Memorabilia. Translation J. S. Watson.\n\n[86] _Des Devoirs de l'homme_, ch. xii.\n\n[87] A European custom.--_Transl._\n\n[88] See our work on _La Famille_ (3d lecture).\n\n[89] _Le Vrai, le Beau et le Bien._ Lect. xxi., ch. xxii.\n\n[90] There is no injustice done to him who consents to it.\n\n[91] St. Augustin, _Cite de Dieu_, I., xvii., trad. d'Em. Saisset.\n\n[92] One will say, perhaps, that the merchant is never innocent, for he\nshould have foreseen the risks which threatened him, and provided against\nthem. But there is no commerce without risks. There is, then, a certain\namount of risks which it is allowed and even necessary to run, or else\nsuppress commerce altogether. For example, a merchant in times of peace\ncertainly knows that there may suddenly arise a cause of war, and he must\nmake provision against the eventuality; but if all his transactions were\ninfluenced by that idea, commerce in times of peace would not differ from\ncommerce in times of war, and would consequently be null.\n\n[93] Rousseau's _Emile_, I., i.\n\n[94] Bossuet, _Traite de la concupiscence_, Ch. iv.\n\n[95] We may apply here what La Bruyere said of clothes: \"There is as much\nweakness in avoiding fashion as affecting it. A philosopher allows his\ntailor to dress him.\" In the same sense is there as much weakness in\nrebelling against pleasure as in seeking it too artfully. The honest man\nsimply enjoys it without thinking of it. Between the rigorist and the\nsensualist, the sensible man has his place.\n\n[96] _Ciceron_, _Traite des devoirs_, I., xxxiv.\n\n[97] Cicero, _Traite des devoirs_, ch. xxxvi.\n\n[98] We nowise mean to uphold here the doctrine of the _physiocrats_ for\nwhom land was the only riches; we shall merely say that it is the basis of\nall wealth.\n\n[99] There is here, again, a broad duty, for how can we interdict to a\nmerchant the desire for gain without suppressing one of the incitements to\nhis activity and work? All that we can recommend to him is moderation, and\nnot to sacrifice to this incitement sentiments of a higher order.\n\n[100] Kant himself recognizes that self-interest may become a duty when\ncombated by passion. \"To secure one's own happiness,\" he says, \"is at\nleast an indirect duty; for he who is dissatisfied with his condition may\neasily, in the midst of the cares and wants which besiege him, yield to\nthe temptation of transgressing his duties.... Therefore, even though this\ntendency in man to seek his happiness did not determine his will, even\nthough health were not, for him at least, a thing to be taken account of\nin his calculations, there would still remain in this case, as in all\nothers, a law, the one, namely, which commands him to work for his\nhappiness, not from inclination, but from a sense of duty, and it is only\nby this that his conduct may have a real moral value.\n\n[101] Franklin, _Poor Richard's Almanac_.\n\n[102] Aristotle, Nichomachean Ethics, iv., i.\n\n[103] Meditations of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, v., i.\n\n[104] Aristotle, Politics, i., ii.\n\n[105] Xenophon's Memorabilia of Socrates, Bohn's translation, by Rev. J.\nS. Watson, M.A., II., vii.\n\n[106] Confucius and Mencius, Pauthier's translation, p. 303.\n\n[107] The word mercenary has always had an unfavorable meaning attached to\nit, a relic of ancient prejudice. In the proper sense, mercenary means\nremunerative, and should have no condemnatory signification. Yet already\nin antiquity the word _mercenary_ had a higher sense than the word\n_servile_; for Cicero, wishing to say that one should treat one's slaves\nwell, said that they should be treated as mercenaries--that is to say, as\nmen remunerated but free.\n\n[108] Plato, Republic, i., ii.\n\n[109] See his _De Officiis_, i., iv.\n\n[110] It might be called _sensibility_, in the sense this word had in the\nXVIII. century. It is not enough to be human toward others, one owes some\nfeeling to one's self also.\n\n[111] Nicomachean Ethics, VI., ii.\n\n[112] Ibid., VI., xii.\n\n[113] Nicomachean Ethics, VI., ii.\n\n[114] We do not mean by this that science cannot be a means of livelihood:\nnothing more legitimate, on the contrary. We only mean that it is not that\nalone.\n\n[115] See also the admirable passage of Augustin Thierry in the preface to\n_Dix ans d'etude_.\n\n[116] \"Answer me, ye illustrious philosophers, ye through whom we know\nwhat are the causes which attract bodies to a vacuum; what are in the\nrevolutions of the planets, the relations of the spaces they travel over\nat equal periods ... how man sees everything in God; how the soul and the\nbody correspond to each other without inter-communication, like two\nclocks.... Even though you had not taught us any of these things, should\nwe be less numerous, less flourishing, more depraved?\" This passage\nrecalls vividly that of Malebranche quoted above. What, however, is most\ncurious about it is that Rousseau in his criticism appropriates\nMalebranche's hypothesis.\n\n[117] \"Good sense is the best distributed thing in the world,\" says\nDescartes at the beginning of his _Discours de la Methode_.\n\n[118] Unless, of course, passion itself implies a duty superior to\nself-interest: which is not the case here.\n\n[119] See Burlamaqui, _Droit naturel_, part I., ch. vi.\n\n[120] See the celebrated lines in the _Misanthrope_, act ii., sc. v.\n\n[121] _Virtus_ in Latin has both meanings.\n\n[122] Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics. Translated by R. W. Browne, III., vi.\n\n[123] This idea of Aristotle may be questioned; for, in a sudden peril,\none may be sustained by a natural impulse, and the feeling of\nself-defense, whilst anticipated peril allows all the impressions of fear\nto grow: it requires, therefore, a greater effort to overcome them.\n\n[124] _De Officiis_, I., xxiii.\n\n[125] See Xenophon's _Memorabilia of Socrates_, I., i.\n\n[126] _Discours de la Methode_, part III.\n\n[127] The Works of Epictetus. T. W. Higginson's translation, ch. vi., p.\n21.\n\n[128] The Works of Epictetus. T. W. Higginson's translation, ch. xv., page\n139.\n\n[129] Latin, _gyrus_, the ring in which colts are driven round by\nhorse-breakers.\n\n[130] Cicero, _De Officiis_, I., xxvi.\n\n[131] Plato's _Republic_, I., iv.: A man deserves to be called courageous\nwhen that part of his soul in which anger resides obeys the commands of\nreason.\n\n[132] Aristotle, _Nicomachean Ethics_, R. W. Browne's transl., IV., v.\n\n[133] Plato's _Republic_, I., iv.\n\n[134] Anger is still nobler when provoked by injustice done to others.\n\n[135] Aristotle, _Nicomachean Ethics_, IV., v.\n\n[136] Kant, _Doctrine de la Vertu_, _trad. franc._, p. 96.\n\n[137] Moliere's _Tartufe_.\n\n[138]\n\n  And shall I speak of Iris, loved and praised by all?\n  Ah! what heart! ah! what heart! humanity itself!\n  A wounded butterfly calls forth the truest tears!\n  Ah, yes; but when to death poor Lally is condemned,\n  And to the block is dragged, a spectacle to all,\n  Iris will be the first to go to the dread feast,\n  And buy herself the joy to see his dear head fall.\n                                GILBERT, _le Dix-Huitieme Siecle_.\n\n[139] _Lettre sur la metaphysique_, lettre II., chap. ix.\n\n[140] Metaphysics is the science which treats of what is beyond and above\nnature. We call _metaphysical_ such attributes of God by which he\nsurpasses nature; as, for instance, infinitude, immensity; the moral\nattributes, on the contrary, are those which have their analogies in the\nhuman soul, such as kindness, wisdom, etc.\n\n[141] V. Cousin, _Le Vrai, le Beau et le Bien_, xvi{e} _lecon_.\n\n[142] See _Dictionnaire de l'Academie francaise_ (7{e} edition, 1878):\n\"_Veneration_, respect for holy things. It is also said of the respectful\nesteem in which certain persons are held.\"\n\n[143] A postulate is a truth which, although it cannot be rigorously\ndemonstrated should, nevertheless, by reason of the necessity of its\nconsequences, be practically admitted.\n\n[144] Kant, _Critique de la raison pratique_, II., ii. Trad. de J. Barni,\np. 334.\n\n[145] _Critique de la raison pratique_; trad. fr., p. 363.\n\n[146] Jules Simon, _La Liberte de Conscience_, 4{e} lecon (Paris,\n1857).--We have borrowed some few passages of another book of the same\nauthor, _La Liberte_ (Vol. ii., 4{e}, part 1, ch. 1).\n\n[147] Fenelon. _Lettres sur la metaphysique et la religion._ Letter II.,\nch. i.\n\n[148] The works of Epictetus. T. W. Higginson's transl., I., xvi.\n\n[149] _De Augmentis Scientiarum_, III., i. and iii.\n\n[150] Kant, _Anthropologie_. Trad. franc. de Tissot, p. 27.\n\n[151] Kant gives ingenious examples of these three degrees of action. See\nhis _Anthropologische charakteristik_.\n\n[152] Aristotle's _Rhetoric_, book II., ch. xii., xiii., xiv., Bohn's\ntranslation.\n\n[153] Psychology is the science which treats of the faculties and\noperations of the soul.\n\n[154] Diagnosis in medicine is the art of determining a disease by means\nof the symptoms or signs it presents.\n\n[155] _Imitation of Jesus Christ_, I., xii.\n\n[156] We should, however, make a distinction between the passion for wine\nand drunkenness. One can have this passion without giving up to it.\nDrunkenness is the habit of yielding to it.\n\n[157] _Sentimentality_ is false sensibility, and not exaggerated\nsensibility. _Softness_ is a vague expression. Patriotism may by\nexaggeration become _fanaticism_; but this is equally true of other\nsentiments--of the religious sentiment, for example.\n\n[158] Chap. III., 19.\n\n[159] Plato in the Phaedo (trad. de Saisset, p. 31) seems to condemn the\nidea of combating passion by passion: \"To exchange one sensual pleasure\nfor another,\" he says, \"one grief for another, one fear for another, and\nto do like those who get small change for a piece of money, is not the\npath which leads to virtue. Wisdom is the only true coin against which all\nthe others should be exchanged.... Without wisdom all other virtues are\nbut shadows of virtues, a virtue the slave of vice, wherein there is\nnothing wholesome nor true. True virtue is free from all passion.\" Nothing\nmore true and more noble; but there is in this doctrine nothing contrary\nto that of Bossuet. The question is not to exchange one passion for\nanother, for such an act is devoid of all moral character, but to exchange\npassion against wisdom and virtue; and all we want to know is the means.\nNow experience confirms what Bossuet has said, namely, that one cannot\nimmediately triumph over a passion, especially when at its zenith, and\nthat it is necessary to turn one's thoughts upon other objects and appeal\nto more innocent passions or to passions, if not less ardent, at least\nmore noble, such as patriotism or the religious sentiment.\n\n[160] _Confessions_, VIII., v.\n\n[161] The virtues of the pagans have been often depreciated, and St.\nAugustine himself, great an admirer as he was of antiquity, called them,\nnevertheless, _splendid vices_ (_vitia splendida_). They are often\nregarded as induced by pride rather than by a sincere love of virtue. We\nshould beware of such interpretations, for once on the road of moral\npessimism, there is no reason for stopping at anything. We may as well\nmaintain that there are a thousand forms of pride, and that self-love\noften sets its glory in pretending to overcome itself. \"We must therefore\nnot wonder to find it coupled with the greatest austerity, and, in order\nto destroy itself, make us bravely a companion of it, for whilst it ruins\nitself in one place, it starts up again in another.\" It may be seen by\nthis passage of La Rochefoucauld, that it is of no use to interpret the\npagan virtues in a bad sense, for the argument can be retorted. It is\nbetter to regard virtue as sincere and true wherever we meet with it, so\nlong as there are no proofs to the contrary.\n\n[162] _Traite de morale_, III., 2.\n\n[163] The theory of _inadmissible sanctity_ consisted in maintaining that\nman, having reached a state of sanctity, could never again, whatever he\nmight do, fall from it.\n\n[164] _The Dignity of Sciences_, VII., iii.\n\n[165] Essays on the Human Understanding, II., xxi.\n\n[166] Epictetus, II., xxiii. (T. W. Higginson's transl.).\n\n[167] _De Officiis_, I., xxx.\n\n[168] The greatest tragic actor at Rome, and a contemporary of Roscius,\nthe greatest comic actor.--TRANSLATOR.\n\n[169] _De Officiis_, I., xxxi.\n\n[170] _Memorabilia of Socrates_, IV., iv.\n\n[171] Seneca, on Anger, III., 38. To tell the truth, Seneca forgave\nhimself sometimes too easily perhaps, as, for example, on the day when he\ndefended the murder of Agrippina; we are often too much disposed to\nimitate him.\n\n[172] _Imitation of Jesus Christ_, I., xi.\n\n[173] _Doctrine de la Vertu_, trad. fr. p. 170.\n\nWe give here this catechism as an example of what might be done in a\ncourse of morals. The teacher can modify its form and developments as he\nthinks best.\n\n[174] We can see by this that Kant understood youth. In a Socratic\ninterrogation of this kind, the pupil, distrusting his powers, will always\nbegin by being silent. It is only when he perceives that he knows what was\nasked him, that he ventures to answer, and answers well.\n\n[175] We give this as a useful supplement to Chapter VIII. It is a lecture\nformerly delivered on the _Union of Classes_ (1867, _Revue des cours\nlitteraires_, v., p. 42).... We beg to be pardoned for what negligences of\nstyle may have crept into the improvisation.\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes:\n\nPassages in italics are indicated by _italics_.\n\nPassages in bold are indicated by =bold=.\n\nSuperscripted characters are indicated by {superscript}.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n<pre id=\"pg-footer\">","title":"Elements of Morals: With Special Application of the Moral Law to the Duties of the Individual and of Society and the State","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":127909}