{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_8103/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_8103","id":"gutenberg_8103","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/8103","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Ethics"],"text":"Produced by Charles Aldarondo, Tiffany Vergon, David King,\nCharles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.\n\n\n\n\nMORAL PHILOSOPHY:\n\nETHICS, DEONTOLOGY AND NATURAL LAW.\n\nBY\nJOSEPH RICKABY, S.J.\n\n\nNihil Obstat:\nJOSEPHUS KEATING, S.J.\n_Censor deputatus_\n\nImprimi potest:\nJOANNES H. WRIGHT, S.J.\n_Pr\u00e6p. Prov. Angli\u00e6_\n\nNihil Obstat:\nC. SCHUT, D.D.\n_Censor deputatus_\n\nImprimatur:\nEDM. CAN. SURMONT\n_Vie. Gen._\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE (1905).\n\n\nFor fifteen years this Manual has enjoyed all the popularity that its\nauthor could desire. With that popularity the author is the last\nperson to wish to interfere. Therefore, not to throw previous copies\nout of use, this edition makes no alteration either in the pagination\nor the text already printed. At the same time the author might well be\nargued to have lapsed into strange supineness and indifference to\nmoral science, if in fifteen years he had learnt nothing new, and\nfound nothing in his work which he wished to improve. Whoever will be\nat the expense of purchasing my _Political and Moral Essays_\n(Benziger, 1902, 6s.) will find in the first essay on the _Origin and\nExtent of Civil Authority_ an advantageous substitute for the chapter\non the State in this work. The essay is a dissertation written for the\ndegree of B. Sc. in the University of Oxford; and represents, I hope,\ntolerably well the best contemporary teaching on the subject.\n\nIf the present work had to be rewritten, I should make a triple\ndivision of Moral Philosophy, into Ethics, Deontology (the science of\n[Greek: to deon], i.e., of what _ought_ to be done), and Natural Law.\nFor if \"the principal business of Ethics is to determine what moral\nobligation is\" (p. 2), then the classical work on the subject, the\n_Nicomachean Ethics_ of Aristotle, is as the play of Hamlet with the\ncharacter of Hamlet left out: for in that work there is no analysis of\nmoral obligation, no attempt to \"fix the comprehension of the idea I\n_ought_\" (ib.). The system there exposed is a system of Eudaemonism,\nnot of Deontology. It is not a treatise on Duty, but on Happiness: it\ntells us what Happiness, or rational well-being, is, and what conduct\nis conducive to rational well-being. It may be found convenient to\nfollow Aristotle, and avow that the business of Ethics is not Duty,\nnot Obligation, not Law, not Sanction, but Happiness. That fiery\nlittle word _ought_ goes unexplained in Ethics, except in an\nhypothetical sense, that a man _ought_ to do this, and avoid that,\n_if_ he means to be a happy man: cf. p. 115. Any man who declares that\nhe does not care about ethical or rational happiness, stands to Ethics\nas that man stands to Music who \"hath no ear for concord of sweet\nsounds.\"\n\nAll that Ethics or Music can do for such a Philistine is to \"send him\naway to another city, pouring ointment on his head, and crowning him\nwith wool,\" as Plato would dismiss the tragedian (_Republic_ III.\n398). The author of the _Magna Moralia_ well says (I. i. 13): \"No\nscience or faculty ever argues the goodness of the end which it\nproposes to itself: it belongs to some other faculty to consider that.\nNeither the physician says that health is a good thing, nor the\nbuilder that a house is a good thing: but the one announces that he\nproduces health and how he produces it, and the builder in like manner\na house.\" The professor of Ethics indeed, from the very nature of his\nsubject-matter, says in pointing out happiness that it is the rational\nsovereign good of man: but to any one unmoved by that demonstration\nEthics can have no more to say. Ethics will not threaten, nor talk of\nduty, law, or punishment.\n\nEthics, thus strictly considered on an Aristotelian basis, are\nantecedent to Natural Theology. They belong rather to Natural\nAnthropology: they are a study of human nature. But as human nature\npoints to God, so Ethics are not wholly irrespective of God,\nconsidering Him as the object of human happiness and worship,--the\nSupreme Being without whom all the aspirations of humanity are at\nfault (pp. 13-26, 191-197). Ethics do not refer to the commandments of\nGod, for this simple reason, that they have nothing to say to\ncommandments, or laws, or obligation, or authority. They are simply a\nsystem of moral hygiene, which a man may adopt or not: only, like any\nother physician, the professor of Ethics utters a friendly warning\nthat misery must ensue upon the neglect of what makes for health.\n\nDeontology, not Ethics, expounds and vindicates the idea, _I ought_.\nIt is the science of Duty. It carries the mild suasions of Ethics into\nlaws, and out of moral prudence it creates conscience. And whereas\nEthics do not deal with sin, except under the aspect of what is called\n\"philosophical sin\" (p. 119, \u00a7 6), Deontology defines sin in its\nproper theological sense, as \"an offence against God, or any thought,\nword, or deed against the law of God.\" Deontology therefore\npresupposes and is consequent upon Natural Theology. At the same time,\nwhile Ethics indicate a valuable proof of the existence of God as the\nrequisite Object of Happiness, Deontology affords a proof of Him as\nthe requisite Lawgiver. Without God, man's rational desire is\nfrustrate, and man's conscience a misrepresentation of fact. [Footnote\n1]\n\n[Footnote 1: This is Cardinal Newman's proof of the existence of God\nfrom Conscience: see pp. 124, 125, and _Grammar of Assent_, pp.\n104-111, ed. 1895. With Newman's, \"Conscience has both a critical and\na judicial office,\" compare Plato, _Politicus_, 260 B, [Greek:\nsumpasaes taes gnostikaes to men epitaktikon meros, to de kritikon].\nThe \"critical\" office belongs to Ethics: the \"judicial,\" or\n\"preceptive\" office [Greek: to epitaktikon] to Deontology; and this\nlatter points to a Person who commands and judges, that is, to God.]\n\nIn this volume, pp. 1-108 make up the treatise on Ethics: pp. 109-176\nthat on Deontology.\n\nAristotle writes: \"He that acts by intelligence and cultivates\nunderstanding, is likely to be best disposed and dearest to God. For\nif, as is thought, there is any care of human things on the part of\nthe heavenly powers, we may reasonably expect them to delight in that\nwhich is best and most akin to themselves, that is, in intelligence,\nand to make a return of good to such as supremely love and honour\nintelligence, as cultivating the thing dearest to Heaven, and so\nbehaving rightly and well. Such, plainly, is the behaviour of the\nwise. The wise man therefore is the dearest to God\" (Nic. Eth. X. ix.\n13). But Aristotle does not work out the connexion between God and His\nlaw on the one hand and human conscience and duty on the other. In\nthat direction the Stoics, and after them the Roman Jurists, went\nfurther than Aristotle. By reason of this deficiency, Aristotle,\npeerless as he is in Ethics, remains an imperfect Moral Philosopher.\n\n\n\nPREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION (1918)\n\n1. I have altered the opening pages in accordance with the Preface to\nthe edition of 1905.\n\n2. I have added a paragraph on Syndicalism (pp. 291-2).\n\n3. Also a new Table of _Addenda et Corrigenda_, and a new Index.\n\nThe quotations from St. Thomas may be read in English, nearly all of\nthem, in the Author's _Aquinas Ethicus_, 2 vols.; 12s. (Burns and\nOates.)\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\nPART I.--ETHICS.\n\nCHAPTER I.--OF THE OBJECT-MATTER AND PARTITION OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY.\n\nCHAPTER II.--OF HAPPINESS.\nSection I.--Of Ends.\nSection II.--Definition of Happiness.\nSection III.--Happiness open to Man.\nSection IV.--Of the Object of Perfect Happiness.\nSection V.--Of the use of the present life.\n\nCHAPTER III.--OF HUMAN ACTS.\nSection I.--What makes a human act less voluntary.\nSection II.--Of the determinants of Morality in any given action.\n\nCHAPTER IV.--OF PASSIONS.\nSection I.--Of Passions in general.\nSection II.--Of Desire.\nSection III.--Of Delight.\nSection IV.--Of Anger.\n\nCHAPTER V.--OF HABITS AND VIRTUES.\nSection I.--Of Habit.\nSection II.--Of Virtues in general.\nSection III.--Of the difference between Virtues, Intellectual\nand Moral.\nSection IV.--Of the Mean in Moral Virtue.\nSection V.--Of Cardinal Virtues.\nSection VI.--Of Prudence.\nSection VII.--Of Temperance.\nSection VIII.--Of Fortitude.\nSection IX.--Of Justice.\n\nPART II.--DEONTOLOGY.\n\nCHAPTER I. (VI.)--OF THE ORIGIN OF MORAL OBLIGATION.\nSection I.--Of the natural difference between Good and Evil.\nSection II.--How Good becomes bounden Duty, and Evil is advanced to sin.\n\nCHAPTER II. (VII.)--OF THE ETERNAL LAW.\n\nCHAPTER III. (VIII.)--OF THE NATURAL LAW OF CONSCIENCE.\nSection I.--Of the Origin of Primary Moral Judgments.\nSection II.--Of the invariability of Primary Moral Judgments.\nSection III.--Of the immutability of the Natural Law.\nSection IV.--Of Probabilism.\n\nCHAPTER IV. (IX.)--OF THE SANCTION OF THE NATURAL LAW.\nSection I.--Of a Twofold Sanction, Natural and Divine.\nSection II.--Of the Finality of the aforesaid Sanction.\nSection III.--Of Punishment, Retrospective and Retributive.\n\nCHAPTER V. (X.)--OF UTILITARIANISM.\n\n\nPART III.--NATURAL LAW.\n\nCHAPTER I.--OF DUTIES TO GOD.\nSection I.--Of the Worship of God.\nSection II.--Of Superstitious Practices.\nSection III.--Of the duty of knowing God.\n\nCHAPTER II.--OF THE DUTY OF PRESERVING LIFE.\nSection I.--Of Killing, Direct and Indirect.\nSection II.--Of Killing done Indirectly in Self-defence.\nSection III.--Of Suicide.\nSection IV.--Of Duelling.\n\nCHAPTER III.--OF SPEAKING THE TRUTH.\nSection I.--Of the definition of a Lie.\nSection II.--Of the Evil of Lying.\nSection III.--Of the keeping of Secrets without Lying.\n\nCHAPTER IV.--OF CHARITY.\n\nCHAPTER V.--OF RIGHTS.\nSection I.--Of the definition and division of Rights.\nSection II.--Of the so-called Rights of Animals.\nSection III.--Of the right to Honour and Reputation.\nSection IV.--Of Contracts.\nSection V.--Of Usury.\n\nCHAPTER VI.--OF MARRIAGE.\nSection I.--Of the Institution of Marriage.\nSection II.--Of the Unity of Marriage.\nSection III.--Of the Indissolubility of Marriage.\n\nCHAPTER VII.--OF PROPERTY.\nSection I.--Of Private Property.\nSection II.--Of Private Capital.\nSection III.--Of Landed Property.\n\nCHAPTER VIII.--OF THE STATE.\nSection I.--Of the Monstrosities called Leviathan and Social Contract.\nSection II.--Of the theory that Civil Power is an aggregate\n    formed by subscription of the powers of individuals.\nSection III.--Of the true state of Nature, which is the\n    state of civil society, and consequently of the Divine origin of Power.\nSection IV.--Of the variety of Polities.\nSection V.--Of the Divine Right of Kings and the Inalienable\nSovereignty of the People.\nSection VI.--Of the Elementary and Original Polity.\nSection VII.--Of Resistance to Civil Power.\nSection VIII.--Of the Right of the Sword.\nSection IX.--Of War.\nSection X.--Of the Scope and Aim of Civil Government.\nSection XI.--Of Law and Liberty.\nSection XII.--Of Liberty of Opinion.\n\n\n\nADDENDA ET CORRIGENDA\n\np. 31. Aristotle calls the end [Greek: _to telos_]; the means, [Greek:\nta pros to telos] (St. Thomas, _ea quae sunt ad finem_); the\ncircumstances, [Greek: ta ein ois hae praxis].\n\nObserve, both end and means are willed _directly_, but the\ncircumstances _indirectly_.\n\nThe end is _intended_, [Greek: boulaeton]; the means are _chosen_,\n[Greek: proaireton]; the circumstances are simply _permitted_, [Greek:\nanekton], rightly or wrongly. The _intention_ of the end is called by\nEnglish philosophers the _motive_; while the choice of means they call\nthe _intention_, an unfortunate terminology.\n\np. 42, \u00a7. 3. \"As the wax takes all shapes, and yet is wax still at the\nbottom; the [Greek: spokeimenon] still is wax; so the soul transported\nin so many several passions of joy, fear, hope, sorrow, anger, and the\nrest, has for its general groundwork of all this, Love.\" (Henry More,\nquoted in Carey's Dante, _Purgatorio_, c. xviii.) Hence, says Carey,\nLove does not figure in Collins's _Ode on the Passions_.\n\np. 43. For _daring_ read _recklessness_.\n\np. 44. Plato is a thorough Stoic when he says (_Phaedo_ 83) that every\npleasure and pain comes with a nail to pin down the soul to the body\nand make it corporeal. His Stoicism appears in his denunciation of the\ndrama (_Republic_, x. 604).\n\np. 47, \u00a7. 8. The first chapter of Mill's _Autobiography_, pp. 48-53,\n133-149, supplies an instance.\n\np. 49, \u00a7. I, 1. 2, for _physical_ read _psychical_.\n\nP. 52. \u00a7. 5. This _serving_, in [Greek: douleuein], St. Ignatius calls\n\"inordinate attachment,\" the modern form of idolatry. Cf. Romans vi.\n16-22.\n\np. 79. For _spoiled_ read _spoilt_.\n\np. 84, foot. For _ways_ read _way_.\n\np. 85, 1. 6 from foot. Substitute: ([Greek: b]) _to restrain the said\nappetite in its irascible part from shrinking from danger_.\n\np. 94, middle. For _others_ read _other_.\n\np. 95. For _Daring_ read _Recklessness_.\n\np. 103, middle. Substitute, _\"neither evening star nor morning star is\nso wonderful.\"_\n\np. 106, \u00a7. 6. Aristotle speaks of \"corrective,\" not of \"commutative\"\njustice. On the Aristotelian division of justice see Political and\nMoral Essays (P. M. E.), pp. 285-6.\n\np. 111, \u00a7. 4. The _static_ equivalent of the _dynamic_ idea, of\norderly development is that the eternal harmonies and fitnesses of\nthings, by observance or neglect whereof a man comes to be in or out\nof harmony with himself, with his fellows, with God.\n\np. 133. To the _Readings_ add Plato _Laws_, ix, 875, A, B, C, D.\n\np. 151. Rewrite the Note thus: _The author has seen reason somewhat to\nmodify this view, as appears by the Appendix. See P.M.E._ pp. 185-9:\n_Fowler's Progressive Morality, or Fowler and Wilson's Principles of\nMorals_, pp. 227-248.\n\np. 181, 1. ii from top. Add, _This is \"the law of our nature, that\nfunction is primary, and pleasure only attendant\" (Stewart, Notes on\nNicomathean Ethics,_ II. 418).\n\np. 218, lines 13-16 from top, cancel the sentence, _To this query_,\netc., and substitute: _The reply is, that God is never willing that\nman should do an inordinate act; but suicide is an inordinate act, as\nhas been shown; capital punishment is not _(c. viii. s. viii. n. 7, p.\n349).\n\np. 237. For _The Month for March,_ 1883, read _P.M.E._, pp. 215-233.\n\np. 251. To the _Reading_ add P.M.E., pp. 267-283.\n\np. 297, l.6 from foot. After _simply evil_ add: _Hobbes allows that\nhuman reason lays down certain good rules, \"laws of nature\" which\nhowever it cannot get kept_. For Hobbes and Rousseau see further\n_P.M.E_., pp. 81-90.\n\np. 319, middle. Cancel the words: _but the sum total of civil power is\na constant quantity, the same for all States_.\n\npp. 322-3. Cancel \u00a7. 7 for reasons alleged in _P.M.E_., pp. 50-72.\nSubstitute: _States are living organizations and grow, and their\npowers vary with the stage of their development_.\n\np. 323, \u00a7 8. For _This seems at variance with_, read _This brings us\nto consider_.\n\np. 338. To the _Readings_ add _P.M.E_., pp. 102-113.\n\np. 347, middle. Cancel from _one of these prerogatives_ to the end of\nthe sentence. Substitute: _of every polity even in the most infantine\ncondition._\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nMORAL PHILOSOPHY.\n\nPART I. ETHICS.\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nOF THE OBJECT-MATTER AND PARTITION OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\n1. Moral Philosophy is the science of human acts in their bearing on\nhuman happiness and human duty.\n\n2. Those acts alone are properly called _human_, which a man is master\nof to do or not to do. A _human act_, then, is an act voluntary and\nfree. A man is what his human acts make him.\n\n3. A _voluntary_ act is an act that proceeds from the will with a\nknowledge of the end to which the act tends.\n\n4. A free act is an act which so proceeds from the will that under the\nsame antecedent conditions it might have not proceeded.\n\nAn act may be more or less voluntary, and more or less free.\n\n5. Moral Philosophy is divided into Ethics, Deontology, and Natural\nLaw. Ethics consider human acts in their bearing on human happiness;\nor, what is the same thing, in their agreement or disagreement with\nman's rational nature, and their making for or against his last end.\nDeontology is the study of moral obligation, or the fixing of what\nlogicians call the comprehension of the idea _I ought_. Ethics deal\nwith [Greek: to prepon], \"the becoming\"; Deontology with [Greek: to\ndeon], \"the obligatory\". Deontology is the science of Duty, as such.\nNatural Law (antecedent to Positive Law, whether divine or human,\ncivil or ecclesiastical, national or international) determines duties\nin detail,--the _extension_ of the idea _I ought_,--and thus is the\nfoundation of Casuistry.\n\n6. In the order of sciences, Ethics are antecedent to Natural\nTheology; Deontology, consequent upon it.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., _in Eth_., I., lect. 1, init.; _ib_., 1a 2\u00e6,\nq. 1, art. 1, in corp.; _ib_., q. 58, art. 1, in corp.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nOF HAPPINESS.\n\nSECTION I.--_Of Ends_.\n\n\n1. Every human act is done for some end or purpose. The end is always\nregarded by the agent in the light of something good. If evil be done,\nit is done as leading to good, or as bound up with good, or as itself\nbeing good for the doer under the circumstances; no man ever does evil\nfor sheer evil's sake. Yet evil may be the object of the will, not by\nitself, nor primarily, but in a secondary way, as bound up with the\ngood that is willed in the first place.\n\n2. Many things willed are neither good nor evil in themselves. There\nis no motive for doing them except in so far as they lead to some good\nbeyond themselves, or to deliverance from some evil, which deliverance\ncounts as a good. A thing is willed, then, either as being good in\nitself and an end by itself, or as leading to some good end. Once a\nthing not good and desirable by itself has been taken up by the will\nas leading to good, it may be taken up again and again without\nreference to its tendency. But such a thing was not originally taken\nup except in view of good to come of it. We may will one thing as\nleading to another, and that to a third, and so on; thus one wills\nstudy for learning, learning for examination purposes, examination for\na commission in the army, and the commission for glory. That end in\nwhich the will rests, willing it for itself without reference to\nanything beyond, is called the _last end_.\n\n3. An end is either _objective_ or _subjective_. The _objective end_\nis the thing wished for, as it exists distinct from the person who\nwishes it. The _subjective end_ is the possession of the objective\nend. That possession is a fact of the wisher's own being. Thus _money_\nmay be an objective end: the corresponding subjective end is _being\nwealthy_.\n\n4. Is there one subjective last end to all the human acts of a given\nindividual? Is there one supreme motive for all that this or that man\ndeliberately does? At first sight it seems that there is not. The same\nindividual will act now for glory, now for lucre, now for love. But\nall these different ends are reducible to one, _that it may be well\nwith him and his_. And what is true of one man here, is true of all.\nAll the human acts of all men are done for the one (subjective) last\nend just indicated. This end is called _happiness_.\n\n5. Men place their happiness in most different things; some in eating\nand drinking, some in the heaping up of money, some in gambling, some\nin political power, some in the gratification of affection, some in\nreputation of one sort or another. But each one seeks his own\nspeciality because he thinks that he shall be happy, that it will be\nwell with him, when he has attained that. All men, then, do all things\nfor happiness, though not all place their happiness in the same thing.\n\n6. Just as when one goes on a journey, he need not think of his\ndestination at every step of his way, and yet all his steps are\ndirected towards his destination: so men do not think of happiness in\nall they do, and yet all they do is referred to happiness. Tell a\ntraveller that this is the wrong way to his destination, he will avoid\nit; convince a man that this act will not be well for him, will not\nfurther his happiness, and, while he keeps that conviction principally\nbefore his eyes, he will not do the act. But as a man who began to\ntravel on business, may come to make travelling itself a business, and\ntravel for the sake of going about; so in all cases there is a\ntendency to elevate into an end that which was, to start with, only\nvalued as a means to an end. So the means of happiness, by being\nhabitually pursued, come to be a part of happiness. Habit is a second\nnature, and we indulge a habit as we gratify nature. This tendency\nworks itself to an evil extreme in cases where men are become the\nslaves of habit, and do a thing because they are got into the way of\ndoing it, though they allow that it is a sad and sorry way, and leads\nthem wide of true happiness. These instances show perversion of the\nnormal operation of the will.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 1, art. 4, in corp.; _ib_., q. 1,\nart. 6, 7; _ib_., q. 5, art. 8; Ar., _Eth_., I., vii., 4, 5.\n\n\nSECTION II.--_Definition of Happiness_.\n\n\n1. Though all men do all things, in the last resort, that it may be\nwell with them and theirs, that is, for happiness vaguely apprehended,\nyet when they come to specify what happiness is, answers so various\nare given and acted upon, that we might be tempted to conclude that\neach man is the measure of his own happiness, and that no standard of\nhappiness for all can be defined. But it is not so. Man is not the\nmeasure of his own happiness, any more than of his own health. The\ndiet that he takes to be healthy, may prove his poison; and where he\nlooks for happiness, he may find the extreme of wretchedness and woe.\nFor man must live up to his nature, to his bodily constitution, to be\na healthy man; and to his whole nature, but especially to his mental\nand moral constitution, if he is to be a happy man. And nature, though\nit admits of individual peculiarities, is specifically the same for\nall. There will, then, be one definition of happiness for all men,\nspecifically as such.\n\n2. _Happiness is an act, not a state_. That is to say, the happiness\nof man does not lie in his having something done to him, nor in his\nbeing habitually able to do something, but in his actually doing\nsomething. \"To be up and doing,\" that is happiness,--[Greek: en to zaen\nkai energein]. (Ar., _Eth._, IX., ix., 5.) This is proved from the\nconsideration that happiness is the crown and perfection of human\nnature; but the perfection of a thing lies in its ultimate act, or\n\"second act,\" that is, in its not merely being able to act, but\nacting. But action is of two sorts. One proceeds from the agent to\nsome outward matter, as cutting and burning. This action cannot be\nhappiness, for it does not perfect the agent, but rather the patient.\nThere is another sort of act immanent in the agent himself, as\nfeeling, understanding, and willing: these perfect the agent.\nHappiness will be found to be one of these immanent acts. Furthermore,\nthere is action full of movement and change, and there is an act done\nin stillness and rest. The latter, as will presently appear, is\nhappiness; and partly for this reason, and partly to denote the\nexclusion of care and trouble, happiness is often spoken of as _a\nrest_. It is also called _a state_, because one of the elements of\nhappiness is permanence. How the act of happiness can be permanent,\nwill appear hereafter.\n\n3. _Happiness is an act in discharge of the function proper to man, as\nman_. There is a function proper to the eye, to the ear, to the\nvarious organs of the human body: there must be a function proper to\nman as such. That can be none of the functions of the vegetative life,\nnor of the mere animal life within him. Man is not happy by doing what\na rose-bush can do, digest and assimilate its food: nor by doing what\na horse does, having sensations pleasurable and painful, and muscular\nfeelings. Man is happy by doing what man alone can do in this world,\nthat is, acting by reason and understanding. Now the human will acting\nby reason may do three things. It may regulate the passions, notably\ndesire and fear: the outcome will be the moral virtues of temperance\nand fortitude. It may direct the understanding, and ultimately the\nmembers of the body, in order to the production of some practical\nresult in the external world, as a bridge. Lastly, it may direct the\nunderstanding to speculate and think, contemplate and consider, for\nmere contemplation's sake. Happiness must take one or other of these\nthree lanes.\n\n4. First, then, _happiness is not the practice of the moral virtues of\ntemperance and fortitude_. Temperance makes a man strong against the\ntemptations to irrationality and swinishness that come of the bodily\nappetites. But happiness lies, not in deliverance from what would\ndegrade man to the level of the brutes, but in something which shall\nraise man to the highest level of human nature. Fortitude, again, is\nnot exercised except in the hour of danger; but happiness lies in an\nenvironment of security, not of danger. And in general, the moral\nvirtues can be exercised only upon occasions, as they come and go; but\nhappiness is the light of the soul, that must burn with steady flame\nand uninterrupted act, and not be dependent on chance occurrences.\n\n5. Secondly, _happiness is not the use of the practical understanding\nwith a view to production_. Happiness is an end in itself, a terminus\nbeyond which the act of the will can go no further; but this use of\nthe understanding is in view of an ulterior end, the thing to be\nproduced. That product is either useful or artistic; if useful, it\nministers to some further end still; if artistic, it ministers to\ncontemplation. Happiness, indeed, is no exercise of the practical\nunderstanding whatever. The noblest exercises of practical\nunderstanding are for military purposes and for statesmanship. But war\nsurely is not an end in itself to any right-minded man. Statecraft,\ntoo, has an end before it, the happiness of the people. It is a labour\nin view of happiness. We must follow down the third lane, and say:\n\n6. _Happiness is the act of the speculative understanding\ncontemplating for contemplation's sake_. This act has all the marks of\nhappiness. It is the highest act of man's highest power. It is the\nmost capable of continuance. It is fraught with pleasure, purest and\nhighest in quality. It is of all acts the most self-sufficient and\nindependent of environment, provided the object be to the mind's eye\nvisible. It is welcome for its own sake, not as leading to any further\ngood. It is a life of ease and leisure: man is busy that he may come\nto ease.\n\n7. Aristotle says of this life of continued active contemplation:\n\n\"Such a life will be too good for man; for not as he is man will he so\nlive, but inasmuch as there is a divine element in his composition. As\nmuch as this element excels the compound into which it enters, so much\ndoes the act of the said element excel any act in any other line of\nvirtue. If, then, the understanding is divine in comparison with man,\nthe life of the understanding is divine in comparison with human life.\nWe must not take the advice of those who tell us, that being man, one\nshould cherish the thoughts of a man, or being mortal, the thoughts of\na mortal, but so far as in us lies, we must play the immortal [Greek:\nathanatizein], and do all in our power to live by the best element in\nour nature: for though that element be slight in quantity, in power\nand in value it far outweighs all the rest of our being. A man may\nwell be reckoned to be that which is the ruling power and the better\npart in him. . . . What is proper to each creature by nature, is best\nand sweetest for each: such, then, is for man the life of the\nunderstanding, if the understanding preeminently is man.\" (Ar.,\n_Eth._, X., vii., 8, 9.)\n\n8. But if happiness is an act in discharge of the function proper to\nman as man (n. 3), how can it be happiness to lead a life which\nAristotle says is too good for man? The solution of this paradox is\npartly contained in the concluding words of Aristotle above quoted,\nand will still further appear presently (s. iv., n. I, p. 21), where\nwe shall argue that human life is a state of transition in preparation\nfor a higher life of the soul, to be lived, according to the natural\norder, when the compound of soul and body would no longer exist.\n\n9. _The act of contemplation, in which happiness consists, must rest\nupon a habit of contemplation, which is intellectual virtue_. An act,\nto be perfection and happiness, must be done easily, sweetly, and\nconstantly. But no act of the intellect can be so done, unless it\nrests upon a corresponding habit. If the habit has not been acquired,\nthe act will be done fitfully, at random, and against the grain, like\nthe music of an untrained singer, or the composition of a schoolboy.\nPainful study is not happiness, nor is any studied act. Happiness is\nthe play of a mind that is, if not master of, yet at home with its\nsubject. As the intellect is man's best and noblest power, so is\nintellectual virtue, absolutely speaking, the best virtue of man.\n\n10. The use of the speculative understanding is discernible in many\nthings to which even the common crowd turn for happiness, as news of\nthat which is of little or no practical concern to self, sight-seeing,\ntheatre-going, novels, poetry, art, scenery, as well as speculative\nscience and high literature. A certain speculative interest is mixed\nup with all practical work: the mind lingers on the speculation apart\nfrom the end in view.\n\n11. _The act of contemplation cannot be steadily carried on, as is\nnecessary to happiness, except in the midst of easy surroundings_.\nHuman nature is not self-sufficient for the work of contemplation.\nThere is need of health and vigour, and the means of maintaining it,\nfood, warmth, interesting objects around you, leisure, absence of\ndistracting care or pain. None would call a man happy upon the rack,\nexcept by way of maintaining a thesis. The happiness of a disembodied\nspirit is of course independent of bodily conditions, but it would\nappear that there are conditions of environment requisite for even a\nspirit's contemplation.\n\n12. _Happiness must endure to length of days_. Happiness is the\nperfect good of man. But no good is perfect that will not last. One\nswallow does not make a summer, nor does one fine day: neither is man\nmade blessed and happy by one day, nor by a brief time. The human mind\nlighting upon good soon asks the question, Will this last? If the\nanswer is negative, the good is not a complete good and there is no\ncomplete happiness coming of it. If the answer is affirmative and\nfalse, once more that is not a perfect happiness that rests on a\ndelusion. The supreme good of a rational being is not found in a\nfool's paradise. We want an answer affirmative and true: _This\nhappiness shall last_.\n\n13. We now sum up and formulate the definition of happiness as\nfollows: _Happiness is a bringing of the soul to act according to the\nhabit of the best and most perfect virtue, that is, the virtue of the\nspeculative intellect, borne out by easy surroundings, and enduring to\nlength of days--[Greek: energeia psychaes kat aretaen taen aristaen\nkai teleiotataen en biph teleio.] (Ar., _Eth._, I., vii., 15, 16.)\n\n14. Man is made for society. His happiness must be in society, a\nsocial happiness, no lonely contemplation. He must be happy in the\nconsciousness of his own intellectual act, and happy in the\ndiscernment of the good that is in those around him, whom he loves.\nFriends and dear ones are no small part of those _easy surroundings_\nthat are the condition of happiness.\n\n15. Happiness--final, perfect happiness--is not in fighting and\nstruggling, in so far as a struggle supposes evil present and\nimminent; nor in benevolence, so far as that is founded upon misery\nneeding relief. We fight for the conquest and suppression of evil; we\nare benevolent for the healing of misery. But it will be happiness,\n_in the limit_, as mathematicians speak, to wish well to all in a\nsociety where it is well with all, and to struggle with truth for its\nown sake, ever grasping, never mastering, as Jacob wrestled with God.\n\n_Readings_.--Ar., _Eth._, I., vii. viii., 5 to end; I., x., 8 to end;\nI., v., 6; VII., xiii., 3; IX., ix.; X., vii.; X., viii., 1-10; Ar.,\n_Pol._, IV. (al. VII.), i., 3-10; IV., iii., 7, 8; St. Thos., la 2ae,\nq. 3, art. 2; _ib._, q. 3, art. 5. in corp., ad 3; _ib._, q. 2, art.\n6.\n\n\nSECTION III.--_Happiness open to man_.\n\n\n\"And now as he looked and saw the whole Hellespont covered with the\nvessels of his fleet, and all the shore and every plain about Abydos\nas full as possible of men, Xerxes congratulated himself on his good\nfortune; but after a little while, he wept. Then Artabanus, the King's\nuncle, when he heard that Xerxes was in tears, went to him, and said:\n'How different, sire, is what thou art now doing from what thou didst\na little while ago! Then thou didst congratulate thyself; and now,\nbehold! thou weepest.' 'There came upon me,' replied he, 'a sudden\npity, when I thought of the shortness of man's life, and considered\nthat of all this host, so numerous as it is, not one will be alive\nwhen a hundred years are gone by.' 'And yet there are sadder things in\nlife than that,' returned the other. 'Short as our time is, there is\nno man, whether it be among this multitude or elsewhere, who is so\nhappy, as not to have felt the wish--I will not say once, but full\nmany a time--that he were dead rather than alive. Calamities fall upon\nus, sicknesses vex and harass us, and make life, short though it be,\nto appear long. So death, through the wretchedness of our life, is a\nmost sweet refuge to our race; and God, who gives us the tastes that\nwe enjoy of pleasant times, is seen, in his very gift, to be\nenvious.'\" (Herodotus, vii., 45, 46.)\n\n1. It needs no argument to show that happiness, as defined in the last\nsection, can never be perfectly realized in this life. Aristotle took\nhis definition to represent an ideal to be approximated to, not\nattained. He calls his sages \"happy as men\" (_Eth._, I., x., 16), that\nis, imperfectly, as all things human are imperfect. Has Aristotle,\nthen, said the last word on happiness? Is perfect happiness out of the\nreach of the person whom in this mortal life we call man? However that\nmay be, it is plain that _man desires perfect happiness_. Every man\ndesires that it may be perfectly well with him and his, although many\nhave mistaken notions of what their own well-being consists in, and\nfew can define it philosophically. Still they all desire it. The\nhigher a man stands in intellect, the loftier and vaster his\nconception of happiness, and the stronger his yearning after it. This\nargues that _the desire of happiness is natural to man_: not in the\nsense in which eating and drinking are natural, as being requirements\nof his animal nature, but in the same way that it is natural to him to\nthink and converse, his rational nature so requiring. It is a natural\ndesire, as springing from that which is the specific characteristic of\nhuman nature, distinguishing it from mere animal nature, namely\nreason. It is a natural desire in the best and highest sense of the\nword.\n\n2. Contentment is not happiness. A man is content with little, but it\ntakes an immensity of good to satisfy all his desire, and render him\nperfectly happy. When we say we are content, we signify that we should\nnaturally desire more, but acquiesce in our present portion, seeing\nthat more is not to be had. \"Content,\" says Dr. Bain, \"is not the\nnatural frame of any mind, but is the result of compromise.\"\n\n3. But is not this desire of unmixed happiness unreasonable? Are we\nnot taught to set bounds to our desire? Is not moderation a virtue,\nand contentment wisdom? Yes, moderation is a virtue, but it concerns\nonly the use of means, not the apprehension of ends. The patient, not\nto say the physician, desires medicines in moderation, so much as will\ndo him good and no more; but, so far as his end is health, he desires\nall possible health, perfect health. The last end, then, is to be\ndesired as a thing to possess without end or measure, fully and\nwithout defect.\n\n4. We have then these facts to philosophise on: that all men desire\nperfect happiness: that this desire is natural, springing from the\nrational soul which sets man above the brute: that on earth man may\nattain to contentment, and to some happiness, but not to perfect\nhappiness: that consequently nature has planted in man a desire for\nwhich on earth she has provided no adequate satisfaction.\n\n5. If the course of events were fitful and wayward, so that effects\nstarted up without causes, and like causes under like conditions\nproduced unlike effects, and anything might come of anything, there\nwould be no such thing as that which we call _nature_. When we speak\nof nature, we imply a regular and definite flow of tendencies, this\nthing springing from that and leading to that other; nothing from\nnothing, and nothing leading nowhere; no random, aimless proceedings;\nbut definite results led up to by a regular succession of steps, and\nsurely ensuing unless something occurs on the way to thwart the\nprocess. How this is reconciled with Creation and Freewill, it is not\nour province to enquire: suffice it to say that a _natural_ agent is\nopposed to a _free_ one, and creation is the starting-point of nature.\nBut to return. Everywhere we say, \"this is for that,\" wherever there\nappears an end and consummation to which the process leads, provided\nit go on unimpeded. Now every event that happens is a part of some\nprocess or other. Every act is part of a tendency. There are no loose\nfacts in nature, no things that happen, or are, otherwise than in\nconsequence of something that has happened, or been, before, and in\nview of something else that is to happen, or be, hereafter. The\ntendencies of nature often run counter to one another, so that the\nresult to which this or that was tending is frustrated. But a tendency\nis a tendency, although defeated; _this_ was for _that_, although that\nfor which it was has got perverted to something else. There is no\ntendency which of itself fails and comes to naught, apart from\ninterference. Such a universal and absolute break-down is unknown to\nnature.\n\n6. All this appears most clearly in organic beings, plants and\nanimals. Organisms, except the very lowest, are compounds of a number\nof different parts, each fulfilling a special function for the good of\nthe whole. There is no idle constituent in an organic body, none\nwithout its function. What are called _rudimentary_ organs, even if\nthey serve no purpose in the individual, have their use in the\nspecies, or in some higher genus. In the animal there is no idle\nnatural craving, or appetite. True, in the individual, whether plant\nor animal, there are many potentialities frustrate and made void. That\nis neither here nor there in philosophy. Philosophy deals not with\nindividuals but with species, not with Bucephalus or Alexander, but\nwith _horse_, _man_. It is nothing to philosophy that of a thousand\nseeds there germinate perhaps not ten. Enough that one seed ever\ngerminates, and that all normal specimens are apt to do the like,\nmeeting with proper environment. That alone shows that seed is not an\nidle product in this or that class of living beings.\n\n7. But, it will be said, not everything contained in an organism\nministers to its good. There is refuse material, only good to get rid\nof: there are morbid growths; there is that tendency to decay, by\nwhich sooner or later the organism will perish. First, then, a word on\ndiseases. Diseases are the diseases of the individual; not of the\nrace. The race, as such, and that is what the philosopher studies, is\nhealthy: all that can be imputed to the race is liability to disease.\nThat liability, and the tendency to decay and die, are found in living\nthings, because their essence is of finite perfection; there cannot be\na plant or animal, that has not these drawbacks in itself, as such.\nThey represent, not the work of nature, but the failure of nature, and\nthe point beyond which nature can no further go.\n\n8. On the preceding observations Aristotle formulated the great\nmaxim--called by Dr. Thomas Browne, _Religio Medici_, p. i., sect. 15,\n\"the only indisputable axiom in philosophy,\"--_Nature does nothing in\nvain_. (Ar., _Pol._, I., viii., 12; _De Anima_, III., ix., 6; _De\npart. animal._, I. i., p. 641, ed. Bekker.)\n\n9. _The desire of happiness, ample and complete, beyond what this\nworld can afford, is not planted in man by defect of his nature, but\nby the perfection of his nature, and in view of his further\nperfection_. This desire has not the character of a drawback, a thing\nthat cannot be helped, a weakness and decay of nature, and loss of\npower, like that which sets in with advancing years. A locomotive\ndrawing a train warms the air about it: it is a pity that it should do\nso, for that radiation of heat is a loss of power: but it cannot be\nhelped, as locomotives are and must be constructed. Not such is the\ndesire of perfect happiness in the human breast. It is not a disease,\nfor it is no peculiarity of individuals, but a property of the race.\nIt is not a decay, for it grows with the growing mind, being feeblest\nin childhood, when desires are simplest and most easily satisfied, and\nstrongest where mental life is the most vigorous. It is an attribute\nof great minds in proportion to their greatness. To be without it,\nwould be to live a minor in point of intellect, not much removed from\nimbecility. It is not a waste of energy, rather it furnishes the\nmotive-power to all human volition. It comes of the natural working of\nthe understanding that discerns good, and other good above that, and\nso still higher and higher good without limit; and of the natural\nworking of the will, following up and fastening upon what the\nunderstanding discerns as good. The desire in question, then, is by no\nmeans a necessary evil, or natural flaw, in the human constitution.\n\n10. It follows that the desire of perfect happiness is in man by the\nnormal growth of his nature, and for the better. But it would be a\nvain desire, and objectless, if it were essentially incapable of\nsatisfaction: and man would be a made and abiding piece of\nimperfection, if there were no good accessible to his intellectual\nnature sufficient to meet its proper exigence of perfect happiness.\nBut no such perfect happiness is attainable in this world. Therefore\nthere must be a world to come, in which he who was man, now a\ndisembodied spirit, but still the same person, shall under due\nconditions find a perfect good, the adequate object of his natural\ndesire. Else is the deepest craving of human nature in vain, and man\nhimself is vanity of vanities.\n\n11. It may be objected that there is no need to go beyond this world\nto explain how the desire of perfect happiness is not in vain. It\nworks like the desire of the philosopher's stone among the old\nalchemists. The thing they were in search of was a chimera, but in\nlooking for it they found a real good, modern chemistry. In like\nmanner, it is contended, though perfect happiness is not to be had\nanywhere, yet the desire of it keeps men from sitting down on the path\nof progress; and thus to that desire we owe all our modern\ncivilization, and all our hope and prospect of higher civilization to\ncome. Without questioning the alleged fact about the alchemists, we\nmay reply that modern chemistry has dissipated the desire of the\nphilosopher's stone, but modern civilization has not dissipated the\ndesire of perfect happiness: it has deepened it, and perhaps rather\nobscured the prospect of its fulfilment. A desire that grows with\nprogress certainly cannot be satisfied by progressing. But if it is\nnever to be satisfied, what is it? A goad thrust into the side of man,\nthat shall keep him coursing along from century to century, like Io\nunder the gadfly, only to find himself in the last century as far from\nthe mark as in the first. Apart from the hope of the world to come, is\nthe Italy of to-day happier than the Italy of Antoninus Pius? Here is\na modern Italian's conclusion: \"I have studied man, I have examined\nnature, I have passed whole nights observing the starry heavens. And\nwhat is the result of these long investigations? Simply this, that the\nlife of man is nothing; that man himself is nothing; that he will\nnever penetrate the mystery which surrounds the universe. With this\ncomfortless conviction I descend into the grave, and console myself\nwith the hope of speedy annihilation. The lamp goes out; and nothing,\nnothing can rekindle it. So, Nature, I return to thee, to be united\nwith thee for ever. Never wilt thou have received into thy bosom a\nmore unhappy being.\" (_La Nullit\u00e0 della Vita_. By G. P., 1882.)\n\nThis is an extreme case, but much of modern progress tends this way.\nCivilization is not happiness, nor is the desire for happiness other\nthan vain, if it merely leads to increased civilization.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thomas, _C. G._, iii., 48; Newman's _Historical\nSketches--Conversion of Augustine_; Mill's _Autobiography_, pp.\n133-149.\n\n\nSECTION IV.--_Of the Object of Perfect Happiness_.\n\n\n1. As happiness is an act of the speculative intellect contemplating\n(s. ii., n. 6, p. 9), so the thing thus contemplated is the _object of\nhappiness_. As happiness is the _subjective last end_, so will this\nobject, inasmuch as the contemplation of it yields perfect happiness,\nbe the _objective last end_ of man. (s. i., nn. 3, 4, p. 4.) As\nperfect happiness is possible, and intended by nature, so is this\nobjective last end attainable, and should be attained. But attained by\nman? Aye, there's the rub. It cannot be attained in this life, and\nafter death man is no more: a soul out of the body is not man. About\nthe resurrection of the body philosophy knows nothing. Nature can make\nout no title to resurrection. That is a gratuitous gift of God in\nChrist. When it takes effect, _stupebit natura_. Philosophy deals only\nwith the natural order, with man as man, leaving the supernatural\norder, or the privileges and _status_ of man as a child of God, to the\nhigher science of Scholastic Theology. Had God so willed it, there\nmight have been no supernatural at all. Philosophy shows the world as\nit would have been on that hypothesis. In that case, then, man would\nhave been, as Aristotle represents him, a being incapable of perfect\nhappiness; but _he who is man_ could have become perfectly happy in a\nstate other than human, that is, as a disembodied spirit. Peter is\nman: the soul of Peter, after separation, is man no longer; but Peter\nis not one person, and Peter's soul out of the body another person;\nthere is but one person there, with one personal history and\nliabilities. The soul of Peter is Peter still: therefore the person\nPeter, or he _who is Peter_, attains to happiness, but not the man\nPeter, as man, apart from the supernatural privilege of the\nresurrection. Hence Aristotle well said, though he failed to see the\nsignificance of his own saying, that man should aim at a life of\nhappiness too good for man. (s. ii., nn. 7, 8, p. 9.)\n\n2. The object of happiness,--the objective last end of man,--will be\nthat which the soul contemplating in the life to come will be\nperfectly happy by so doing. The soul will contemplate all\nintellectual beauty that she finds about her, all heights of truth,\nall the expanse of goodness and mystery of love. She will see herself:\na vast and curious sight is one pure spirit: but that will not be\nenough for her, her eye travels beyond. She must be in company, live\nwith myriads of pure spirits like herself,--see them, study them, and\nadmire them, and converse with them in closest intimacy. Together they\nmust explore the secrets of all creation even to the most distant\nstar: they must read the laws of the universe, which science\nlaboriously spells out here below: they must range from science to\nart, and from facts to possibilities, till even their pure intellect\nis baffled by the vast intricacy of things that might be and are not:\nbut yet they are not satisfied. A point of convergency is wanted for\nall these vistas of being, whence they may go forth, and whither they\nmay return and meet: otherwise the soul is distracted and lost in a\nmaze of incoherent wandering, crying out, Whence all this? and what is\nit for? and above all, whose is it? These are the questions that the\nhuman mind asks in her present condition: much more will she ask them\nthen, when wonders are multiplied before her gaze: for it is the same\nsoul there and here. Here men are tormented in mind, if they find no\nanswer to these questions. Scientific men cannot leave theology alone.\nThey will not be happy there without an answer. Their contemplation\nwill still desiderate something beyond all finite being, actual or\npossible. Is that God? It is nothing else. But God dwells in light\ninaccessible, where no creature, as such, can come near Him nor see\nHim. The beauties of creation, as so many streams of tendency, meet at\nthe foot of His Throne, and there are lost. Their course is towards\nHim, and is, so far as it goes, an indication of Him: but He is\ninfinitely, unspeakably above them. No intelligence created, or\ncreatable, can arrive by its own natural perception to see Him as He\nis: for mind can only discern what is proportionate to itself: and God\nis out of proportion with all the being of all possible creatures. It\nis only by analogy that the word _being_, or any other word whatever\ncan be applied to Him. As Plato says, \"the First Good is not Being,\nbut over and beyond Being in dignity and power.\" (_Rep_. 509, B.)\n\n3. To see God face to face, which is called the beatific vision, is\nnot the natural destiny of man, nor of any possible creature. Such\nhappiness is not the happiness of man, nor of angel, but of God\nHimself, and of any creature whom He may deign by an act of gratuitous\ncondescension to invite to sit as guest at His own royal table. That\nGod has so invited men and angels, revelation informs us. Scholastic\ntheology enlarges upon that revelation, but it is beyond philosophy.\nLike the resurrection of the body, and much more even than that, the\nBeatific Vision must be relegated to the realm of the Supernatural.\n\n4. But even in the natural order _the object of perfect happiness_ is\nGod. The natural and supernatural have the same object, but differ in\nthe mode of attainment. By supernatural grace, bearing perfect fruit,\nman sees God with the eyes of his soul, as we see the faces of our\nfriends on earth. In perfect happiness of the natural order, creatures\nalone are directly apprehended, or seen, and from the creature is\ngathered the excellence of the unseen God. The process is an ascent,\nas described by Plato, from the individual to the universal, and from\nbodily to moral and intellectual beauty, till we reach a Beauty\neternal, immutable, absolute, substantial, and self-existent, on which\nall other beauties depend for their being, while it is independent of\nthem. (Plato, _Symposium_, 210, 211.) Unless the ascent be prosecuted\nthus far, the contemplation is inadequate, the happiness incomplete.\nThe mind needs to travel to the beginning and end of things, to the\nAlpha and Omega of all. The mind needs to reach some perfect good:\nsome object, which though it is beyond the comprehension, is\nnevertheless understood to be the very good of goods, unalloyed with\nany admixture of defect or imperfection. The mind needs an infinite\nobject to rest upon, though it cannot grasp that object positively in\nits infinity. If this is the case even with the human mind, still\nwearing \"this muddy vesture of decay,\" how much more ardent the\nlonging, as how much keener the gaze, of the pure spirit after Him who\nis the centre and rest of all intellectual nature?\n\n5. Creatures to contemplate and see God in, are conditions and\nsecondary objects of natural happiness. They do not afford happiness\nfinally of themselves, but as manifesting God, even as a mirror would\nbe of little interest except for its power of reflection.\n\n6. In saying that God is the object of happiness, we must remember\nthat He is no cold, impersonal Beauty, but a living and loving God,\nnot indeed in the order of nature our Father and Friend, but still our\nkind Master and very good Lord, who speaks to His servants from behind\nthe clouds that hide His face, and assures them of His abiding favour\nand approving love. More than that, nature cannot look for: such\naspiration were unnatural, unreasonable, mere madness: it is enough\nfor the creature, as a creature, in its highest estate to stand before\nGod, hearing His voice, but seeing not His countenance, whom, without\nHis free grace, none can look upon and live.\n\n_Reading_.--St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 2, art. 8.\n\n\nSECTION V.--_Of the use of the present life_.\n\n\n1. Since perfect happiness is not to be had in this mortal life, and\nis to be had hereafter; since moreover man has free will and the\ncontrol of his own acts; it is evidently most important for man in\nthis life so to control and rule himself here as to dispose himself\nfor happiness there. Happiness rests upon a habit of contemplation (s.\nii., n. 9, p. 10), rising to God. (s. iv., n. 4, p. 24.) But a habit,\nas will be seen, is not formed except by frequent acts, and may be\nmarred and broken by contrary acts. It is, then, important for man in\nthis life so to act as to acquire a habit of lifting his mind to God.\nThere are two things here, to lift the mind, and to lift it to God.\nThe mind is not lifted, if the man lives not an intellectual life, but\nthe life of a swine wallowing in sensual indulgences; or a frivolous\nlife, taking the outside of things as they strike the senses, and\nflitting from image to image thoughtlessly; or a quarrelsome life,\nwhere reason is swallowed up in anger and hatred. Again, however\nsublime the speculation and however active the intellect, if God is\nnot constantly referred to, the mind is lifted indeed, but not to God.\nIt is wisdom, then, in man during this life to look to God everywhere,\nand ever to seek His face; to avoid idleness, anger, intemperance, and\npride of intellect. For the mind will not soar to God when the heart\nis far from Him.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nOF HUMAN ACTS.\n\nSECTION I.--_What makes a human act less voluntary_.\n\n\n1. See c. i., nn. 2, 3, 4.\n\n2. An act is more or less voluntary, as it is done with more or less\nknowledge, and proceeds more or less fully and purely from the will\nproperly so called. Whatever diminishes knowledge, or partially\nsupplants the will, takes off from the voluntariness of the act. _An\nact is rendered less voluntary by ignorance, by passionate desire, and\nby fear_.\n\n3. If a man has done something in ignorance either of the law or of\nthe facts of the case, and would be sorry for it, were he to find out\nwhat he has done, that act is _involuntary_, so far as it is traceable\nto ignorance alone. Even if he would not be sorry, still the act must\nbe pronounced _not voluntary_, under the same reservation. Ignorance,\nsheer ignorance, takes whatever is done under it out of the region of\nvolition. Nothing is willed but what is known. An ignorant man is as\nexcusable as a drunken one, as such,--no more and no less. The\ndifference is, that drunkenness generally is voluntary; ignorance\noften is not. But ignorance may be voluntary, quite as voluntary as\ndrunkenness. It is a capital folly of our age to deny the possibility\nof voluntary intellectual error. Error is often voluntary, and (where\nthe matter is one that the person officially or otherwise is required\nto know) immoral too. A strange thing it is to say that \"it is as\nunmeaning to speak of the immorality of an intellectual mistake as it\nwould be to talk of the colour of a sound.\" (Lecky, _European Morals_,\nii., 202.)\n\n4. There is an ignorance that is sought on purpose, called _affected\nignorance_ (in the Shakspearian sense of the word _affect_), as when a\nman will not read begging-letters, that he may not give anything away.\nSuch ignorance does not hinder voluntariness. It indicates a strong\nwill of doing or omitting, come what may. There is yet another\nignorance called _crass_, which is when a man, without absolutely\ndeclining knowledge, yet takes no pains to acquire it in a matter\nwhere he is aware that truth is important to him. Whatever election is\nmade in consequence of such ignorance, is less voluntary, indeed, than\nif it were made in the full light, still it is to some extent\nvoluntary. It is _voluntary in its cause_, that is, in the voluntary\nignorance that led to it. Suppose a man sets up as a surgeon, having\nmade a very imperfect study of his art. He is aware, that for want of\nknowledge and skill, he shall endanger many lives: still he neglects\nopportunities of making himself competent, and goes audaciously to\nwork. If any harm comes of his bungling, he can plead intellectual\nerror, an error of judgment for the time being; he did his best as\nwell as he knew it. Doubtless he did, and in that he is unlike the\nmalicious maker of mischief: still he has chosen lightly and\nrecklessly to hazard a great evil. To that extent his will is bound to\nthe evil: he has chosen it, as it were, at one remove.\n\n5. Another instance. A man is a long way on to seeing, though he does\nnot quite see, the claims of the Church of Rome on his allegiance and\nsubmission. He suspects that a little more prayer and search, and he\nshall be a Roman Catholic. To escape this, he resolves to go\ntravelling and give up prayer. This is _affected ignorance_. Another\nhas no such perception of the claims of Catholicism. He has no\nreligion that satisfies him. He is aware speculatively of the\nimportance of the religious question; but his heart is not in religion\nat all. With Demas, he loves the things of this world. Very attractive\nand interesting does he find this life; and for the life to come he is\ncontent to chance it. This is _crass ignorance_ of religious truth.\nSuch a man is not a formal heretic, for he is not altogether wilful\nand contumacious in his error. Still neither is it wholly involuntary,\nnor he wholly guiltless.\n\n6. _Passionate desire_ is not an affection of the will, but of the\nsensitive appetite. The will may cooperate, but the passion is not in\nthe will. The will may neglect to check the passion, when it might: it\nmay abet and inflame it: in these ways an act done in passion is a\nvoluntary act. Still it becomes voluntary only by the influx of the\nwill, positively permitting or stimulating: it is not voluntary\nprecisely as it proceeds from passion: for voluntary is that which is\nof the will. It belongs to passion to bring on a momentary darkness in\nthe understanding: where such darkness is, there is so much the less\nof a human act. But passion in an adult of sane mind is hardly strong\nenough, of itself and wholly without the will, to execute any\nconsiderable outward action, involving the voluntary muscles. Things\nare often said and done, and put down to passion: but that is not the\nwhole account of the matter. The will has been for a long time either\nfeeding the passions, or letting them range unchecked: that is the\nreason of their present outburst, which is voluntary at least _in its\ncause_. Once this evil preponderance has been brought about, it is to\nbe examined whether the will, in calm moods, is making any efforts to\nredress the evil. Such efforts, if made, go towards making the effects\nof passion, when they come, involuntary, and gradually preventing them\naltogether.\n\n7. What a man does _from fear_, he is said to do _under compulsion_,\nespecially if the fear be applied to him by some other person in order\nto gain a purpose. Such _compulsory action_ is distinguished in\nordinary parlance from voluntary action. And it is certainly less\nvoluntary, inasmuch as the will is hedged in to make its choice\nbetween two evils, and chooses one or other only as being the less\nevil of the two, not for any liking to the thing in itself. Still, all\nthings considered, the thing is chosen, and the action is so far\nvoluntary. We may call it _voluntary in the concrete_, and\n_involuntary in the abstract_. The thing is willed as matters stand,\nbut in itself and apart from existing need it is not liked at all. But\nas acts must be judged as they stand, by what the man wills now, not\nby what he would will, an act done under fear is on the whole\nvoluntary. At the same time, fear sometimes excuses from the\nobservance of a law, or of a contract, which from the way in which it\nwas made was never meant to bind in so hard a case. Not all contracts,\nhowever, are of this accommodating nature; and still less, all laws.\nBut even where the law binds, the penalty of the law is sometimes not\nincurred, when the law was broken through fear.\n\n_Readings_.--Ar., _Eth_., III, i.; St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 6, art. 3;\n_ib_., q. 6, art. 6, 8; _ib_., q. 77, art. 6.\n\n\nSECTION II.--_Of the determinants of morality in any given action_.\n\n\n1. _The morality of any given action is determined by three elements,\nthe end in view, the means taken, and the circumstances that accompany\nthe taking of the said means._ Whoever knows this principle, does not\nthereby know the right and wrong of every action, but he knows how to\ngo about the enquiry. It is a rule of diagnosis.\n\n2. In order to know whether what a man does befits him as a man to do,\nthe first thing to examine is that which he mainly desires and wills\nin his action. Now the end is more willed and desired than the means.\nHe who steals to commit adultery, says Aristotle, is more of an\nadulterer than a thief. The end in view is what lies nearest to a\nman's heart as he acts. On that his mind is chiefly bent; on that his\nmain purpose is fixed. Though the end is last in the order of\nexecution, it is first and foremost in the order of intention.\nTherefore the end in view enters into morality more deeply than any\nother element of the action. It is not, however, the most obvious\ndeterminant, because it is the last point to be gained; and because,\nwhile the means are taken openly, the end is often a secret locked up\nin the heart of the doer, the same means leading to many ends, as the\nroad to a city leads to many homes and resting-places. Conversely, one\nend may be prosecuted by many means, as there are many roads\nconverging upon one goal.\n\n3. If morality were determined by the end in view, and by that alone,\nthe doctrine would hold that the end justifies the means. That\ndoctrine is false, because the moral character of a human act depends\non the thing willed, or object of volition, according as it is or is\nnot a fit object. Now the object of volition is not only the end in\nview, but likewise the means chosen. Besides the end, the means are\nlikewise willed. Indeed, the means are willed more immediately even\nthan the end, as they have to be taken first.\n\n4. A good action, like any other good thing, must possess a certain\nrequisite fulness of being, proper to itself. As it is not enough for\nthe physical excellence of a man to have the bare essentials, a body\nwith a soul animating it, but there is needed a certain grace of form,\ncolour, agility, and many accidental qualities besides; so for a good\nact it is not enough that proper means be taken to a proper end, but\nthey must be taken by a proper person, at a proper place and time, in\na proper manner, and with manifold other circumstances of propriety.\n\n5. The end in view may be either _single_, as when you forgive an\ninjury solely for the love of Christ: or _multiple co-ordinate_, as\nwhen you forgive both for the love of Christ and for the mediation of\na friend, and are disposed to forgive on either ground separately; or\n_multiple subordinate_, as when you would not have forgiven on the\nlatter ground alone, but forgive the more easily for its addition,\nhaving been ready, however, to forgive on the former alone; or\n_cumulative_, as when you forgive on a number of grounds collectively,\non no one of which would you have forgiven apart from the rest.\n\n6. Where there is no outward action, but only an internal act, and the\nobject of that act is some good that is willed for its own sake, there\ncan be no question of means taken, as the end in view is immediately\nattained.\n\n7. The means taken and the circumstances of those means enter into the\nmorality of the act, _formally_ as they are seen by the intellect,\n_materially_ as they are in themselves. (See what is said of\nignorance, c. iii., s. i., nn. 3-5, p. 27.) This explains the\ndifference between _formal_ and _material_ sin. A _material_ sin would\nbe _formal_ also, did the agent know what he was doing. No sin is\nculpable that is not _formal_. But, as has been said, there may be a\nculpable perversion of the intellect, so that the man is the author of\nhis own obliquity or defect of vision. When Saul persecuted the\nChristians, he probably sinned materially, not formally. When Caiphas\nspoke the truth without knowing it, he said well materially, but ill\nformally.\n\n8. In looking at the means taken and the circumstances that accompany\nthose means, it is important to have a ready rule for pronouncing what\nparticular belongs to the means and what to the circumstances. Thus\nClytemnestra deals her husband Agamemnon a deadly stroke with an axe,\npartly for revenge, partly that she may take to herself another\nconsort; is the deadliness of the blow part of the means taken or only\nan accompanying circumstance? It is part of the means taken. The means\ntaken include every particular that is willed and chosen as making for\nthe end in view. The fatal character of the blow does make to that\nend; if Agamemnon does not die, the revenge will not be complete, and\nlife with Aegisthus will be impossible. On the other hand, the fact\nthat Clytemnestra is the wife of the man whom she murders, is not a\npoint that her will rests upon as furthering her purpose at all; it is\nan accompanying circumstance. This method of distinguishing means from\ncircumstance is of great value in casuistry.\n\n9. It is clear that not every attendant circumstance affects the\nmorality of the means taken. Thus the blow under which Agamemnon sank\nwas neither more nor less guiltily struck because it was dealt with an\naxe, because it was under pretence of giving him a bath, or because\nhis feet were entangled in a long robe. These circumstances are all\nirrelevant. Those only are relevant which attach some special\nreasonableness or unreasonableness to the thing done Thus the\nprovocation that Clytemnestra had from her husband's introduction of\nCassandra into her house made her act of vengeance less unreasonable:\non the other hand it was rendered more unreasonable by the\ncircumstance of the dear and holy tie that binds wife to husband. The\nprovocation and the relationship were two relevant circumstances in\nthat case.\n\n10. But it happens sometimes that a circumstance only affects the\nreasonableness of an action on the supposition of some previous\ncircumstance so affecting it. Thus to carry off a thing in large or\nsmall quantities does not affect the reasonableness of the carrying,\nunless there be already some other circumstance attached that renders\nthe act good or evil; as for instance, if the goods that are being\nremoved are stolen property. Circumstances of this sort are called\n_aggravating_--or, as the case may be, _extenuating_--circumstances.\nCircumstances that of themselves, and apart from any previous\nsupposition, make the thing done peculiarly reasonable or\nunreasonable, are called _specifying_ circumstances. They are so\ncalled, because they place the action in some species of virtue or\nvice; whereas _aggravating_ or _extenuating_ circumstances add to, or\ntake off from, the good or evil of the action in that species of\nvirtue or vice to which it already belongs.\n\n11. A variety of specifying circumstances may place one and the same\naction in many various species of virtue or vice. Thus a religious\nrobbing his parents would sin at once against justice, piety, and\nreligion. A nun preferring death to dishonour practises three virtues,\nchastity, fortitude, and religion.\n\n12. The means chosen may be of four several characters:--\n\n(a) A thing _evil of itself_ and inexcusable under all conceivable\ncircumstances; for instance, blasphemy, idolatry, lying.\n\n(b) _Needing excuse_, as the killing of a man, the looking at an\nindecent object. Such things are not to be done except under certain\ncircumstances and with a grave reason. Thus indecent sights may be met\nin the discharge of professional duty. In that case indeed they cease\nto be indecent. They are then only indecent when they are viewed\nwithout cause. The absence of a good motive in a case like this\ncommonly implies the presence of a bad one.\n\n(c) _Indifferent_, as walking or sitting down.\n\n(d) _Good of itself_, but liable to be vitiated by circumstances, as\nprayer and almsgiving; the good of such actions may be destroyed\nwholly or in part by their being done out of a vain motive, or\nunseasonably, or indiscreetly.\n\n13. It is said, \"If thy eye be single, thy whole body shall be\nlightsome.\" (St. Matt., vi., 22.) The eye is the intention\ncontemplating the end in view. Whoever has placed a good end before\nhim, and regards it steadily with a well-ordered love, never swerving\nin his affection from the way that reason would have him love, must\nneeds take towards his end those means, and those only, which are in\nthemselves reasonable and just: as it is written: \"Thou shalt follow\njustly after that which is just.\" (Deut. xvi., 20.) Thus I am building\na church to the glory of God; money runs short: I perceive that by\nsigning a certain contract that must mean grievous oppression of the\npoor, I shall save considerable expense, whereas, if I refuse, the\nworks will have to be abandoned for want of funds. If I have purely\nthe glory of God before my eyes, I certainly shall not sign that\ncontract: for injustice I know can bear no fruit of Divine glory. But\nif I am bent upon having the building up in any case, of course I\nshall sign: but then my love for the end in view is no longer pure and\nregulated by reason: it is not God but myself that I am seeking in the\nwork. Thus an end entirely just, holy, and pure, purifies and\nsanctifies the means, not formally, by investing with a character of\njustice means in themselves unjust, for that is impossible,--the\nleopard cannot change his spots,--but by way of elimination, removing\nunjust means as ineligible to my purpose, and leaving me only those\nmeans to choose from which are in themselves just.\n\n14. With means in themselves indifferent, the case is otherwise. A\nholy and pious end does formally sanctify those means, while a wicked\nend vitiates them. I beg the reader to observe what sort of means are\nhere in question. There is no question of means in themselves or in\ntheir circumstances unjust, as theft, lying, murder, but of such\nindifferent things as reading, writing, painting, singing, travelling.\nWhoever travels to commit sin at the end of his journey, his very\ntravelling, so far as it is referred to that end, is part of his sin:\nit is a wicked journey that he takes. And he who travels to worship at\nsome shrine or place of pilgrimage, includes his journey in his\ndevotion. The end in view there sanctifies means in themselves\nindifferent.\n\n15. As a great part of the things that we do are indifferent as well\nin themselves as in the circumstances of the doing of them, the moral\ncharacter of our lives depends largely on the ends that we habitually\npropose to ourselves. One man's great thought is how to make money;\nwhat he reads, writes, says, where he goes, where he elects to reside,\nhis very eating, drinking and personal expenditure, all turns on what\nhe calls making his fortune. It is all to gain money--_quocunque modo\nrem_. Another is active for bettering the condition of the labouring\nclasses: a third for the suppression of vice. These three men go some\nway together in a common orbit of small actions, alike to the eye, but\nmorally unlike, because of the various guiding purposes for which they\nare done. Hence, when we consider such pregnant final ends as the\nservice of God and the glory of a world to come, it appears how vast\nis the alteration in the moral line and colouring of a man's life,\naccording to his practical taking up or setting aside of these great\nends.\n\n16. We must beware however of an exaggeration here. The final end of\naction is often latent, not explicitly considered. A fervent\nworshipper of God wishes to refer his whole self with all that he does\nto the Divine glory and service. Yet such a one will eat, drink, and\nbe merry with his friends, not thinking of God at the time. Still,\nsupposing him to keep within the bounds of temperance, he is serving\nGod and doing good actions. But what of a man who has entirely broken\naway from God, what of his eating, drinking, and other actions that\nare of their kind indifferent? We cannot call them sins: there is\nnothing wrong about them, neither in the thing done, nor in the\ncircumstances of the doing, nor in the intention. Pius V. condemned\nthe proposition: \"All the works of infidels are sins.\" Neither must we\ncall such actions indifferent in the individual who does them,\nsupposing them to be true human acts, according to the definition, and\nnot done merely mechanically. They are not indifferent, because they\nreceive a certain measure of natural goodness from the good natural\npurpose which they serve, namely, the conservation and well-being of\nthe agent. _Every human act is either good or evil in him who does\nit._ I speak of natural goodness only.\n\n17. The _effect consequent_ upon an action is distinguishable from the\naction itself, from which it is not unfrequently separated by a\nconsiderable interval of time, as the death of a man from poison\nadministered a month before. The effect consequent enters into\nmorality only in so far as it is either chosen as a means or intended\nas an end (nn. 2, 3, p. 31), or is annexed as a relevant circumstance\nto the means chosen (n. 9, p. 34.). Once the act is done, it matters\nnothing to morality whether the effect consequent actually ensues or\nnot, provided no new act be elicited thereupon, whether of commission\nor of culpable omission to prevent. It matters not to morality, but it\ndoes matter to the agent's claim to reward or liability to punishment\nat the hands of human legislators civil and ecclesiastical.\n\n18. As soul and body make one man, so the inward and outward act--as\nthe will to strike and the actual blow struck--are one human act. The\noutward act gives a certain physical completeness to the inward.\nMoreover the inward act is no thorough-going thing, if it stops short\nof outward action where the opportunity offers. Otherwise, the inward\nact may be as good or as bad morally as inward and outward act\ntogether. The mere wish to kill, where the deed is impossible, may be\nas wicked as wish and deed conjoined. It may be, but commonly it will\nnot, for this reason, that the outward execution of the deed reacts\nupon the will and calls it forth with greater intensity; the will as\nit were expands where it finds outward vent. There is no one who has\nnot felt the relative mildness of inward feelings of impatience or\nindignation, compared with those engendered by speaking out one's\nmind. Often also the outward act entails a long course of preparation,\nall during which the inward will is sustained and frequently renewed,\nas in a carefully planned burglary.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a 2ae, q. 18, art. 1; _ib_., q. 18, art. 2, in\ncorp., ad 1; _ib_., q. 18, art. 3, in corp., ad 2; _ib_., q. 18, art.\n4-6; _ib_., q. 18, art. 8, in corp., ad 2, 3; _ib_., q. 18, art. 9, in\ncorp., ad 3; _ib_., q. 18, art. 10, 3; _ib_., q. 18, art. 11, in\ncorp.; _ib_., q. 20, art. 4, in corp.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nOF PASSIONS.\n\nSECTION I.--_Of Passions in General_.\n\n\n1. A passion is defined to be: _A movement of the irrational part of\nthe soul, attended by a notable alteration of the body, on the\napprehension of good or evil._ The soul is made up of intellect, will,\nand sensible appetite. The first two are rational, the third\nirrational: the third is the seat of the passions. In a disembodied\nspirit, or an angel, there are no senses, no sensible appetite, no\npassions. The angel, or the departed soul, can love and hate, fear and\ndesire, rejoice and grieve, but these are not passions in the pure\nspirit, they are acts of intellect and will alone. So man also often\nloves and hates, and does other acts that are synonymous with\ncorresponding passions, and yet no passion is there. The man is\nworking with his calm reason: his irrational soul is not stirred. To\nan author, when he is in the humour for it, it is a delight to be\nwriting, but not a passionate delight. The will finds satisfaction in\nthe act: the irrational soul is not affected by it. Or a penitent is\nsorry for his sin: he sincerely regrets it before God: his will is\nheartily turned away, and wishes that that sin had never been: at the\nsame time his eye is dry, his features unmoved, not a sigh does he\nutter, and yet he is truly sorry. It is important to bear these facts\nin mind: else we shall be continually mistaking for passions what are\npure acts of will, or _vice versa_, misled by the identity of name.\n\n2. The great mark of a passion is its sensible working of itself out\nupon the body,--what Dr. Bain calls \"the diffusive wave of emotion.\"\nWithout this mark there is no passion, but with it are other mental\nstates besides passions, as we define them. All strong emotion affects\nthe body sensibly, but not all emotions are passions. There are\nemotions that arise from and appertain to the rational portion of the\nsoul. Such are Surprise, Laughter, Shame.\n\nThere is no sense of humour in any but rational beings; and though\ndogs look ashamed and horses betray curiosity, that is only inasmuch\nas in these higher animals there is something analogous to what is\nreason in man. Moreover passions are conversant with good and evil\naffecting sense, but the objects of such emotions as those just\nmentioned are not good and evil as such, common parlance\nnotwithstanding, whereby we are said to laugh at a _bon mot_, or \"a\ngood thing.\"\n\n3. _Love_ is a generic passion, having for its species _desire_ and\n_delight_, the contraries of which are _abhorrence_ and _pain_. Desire\nis of absent good; abhorrence is of absent evil; delight is in present\ngood; pain is at present evil. The good and the evil which is the\nobject of any passion must be apprehended by sense, or by imagination\nin a sensible way, whether itself be a thing of sense or not.\n\n4. Desire and abhorrence, delight and pain, are conversant with good\nand evil simply. But good is often attainable only by an effort, and\nevil avoidable by an effort. The effort that good costs to attain\ncasts a shade of evil or undesirableness over it: we may shrink from\nthe effort while coveting the good. Again, the fact of evil being at\nall avoidable is a good thing about such evil. If we call evil black,\nand good white, avoidable evil will be black just silvering into grey:\nand arduous good will be white with a cloud on it. And if the white\nattracts, and the black repels the appetite, it appears that arduous\ngood is somewhat distasteful, to wit, to the faint-hearted; and\navoidable, or vincible, evil has its attraction for the man of spirit.\nAbout these two objects, good hard of getting and evil hard of\navoidance, arise four other passions, hope and despair about the\nformer, fear and daring about the latter. Hope goes out towards a\ndifficult good: despair flies from it, the difficulty here being more\nrepellent than the good is attractive. Fear flies from a threatening\nevil: while daring goes up to the same, drawn by the likelihood of\nvanquishing it. _Desire_ and _abhorrence_, _delight_ and _pain_, hope\nand despair, fear and daring, with anger and hatred (of which\npresently), complete our list of passions.\n\n5. Aristotle and his school of old, called Peripatetics, recommended\nthe moderation of the passions, not their extirpation. The Stoics on\nthe other hand contended that the model man, the sage, should be\ntotally devoid of passions. This celebrated dispute turned largely on\nthe two schools not understanding the same thing by the word\n_passion_. Yet not entirely so. There was a residue of real\ndifference, and it came to this. If the sensitive appetite stirs at\nall, it must stir in one or other of nine ways corresponding to the\nnine passions which we have enumerated. Such an emotion as Laughter\naffects the imagination and the sensitive part of man, and of course\nthe body visibly, but it does not stir the sensitive appetite, since\nit does not prompt to action. To say then that a man has no passions,\nmeans that the sensitive appetite never stirs within him, but is\nwholly dead. But this is impossible, as the Stoic philosopher was fain\nto confess when he got frightened in a storm at sea. Having no\npassions cannot in any practical sense mean having no movements of the\nsensitive appetite, for that will be afoot of its own proper motion\nindependent of reason: but it may mean cherishing no passions,\nallowing none to arise unresisted, but suppressing their every\nmovement to the utmost that the will can. In that sense it is a very\nintelligible and practical piece of advice, that the wise man should\nlabour to have no passions. It is the advice embodied in Horace's _Nil\nadmirari_, Talleyrand's \"No zeal,\" Beaconsfield's \"Beware of\nenthusiasm.\" It would have man to work like a scientific instrument,\ncalm as a chronometer, regulated by reason alone. This was the Stoic\nteaching, this the perfection that they inculcated, quite a possible\ngoal to make for, if not to attain. And it is worth a wise man's while\nto consider, whether he should bend his efforts in this direction or\nnot. The determination here taken and acted upon will elaborate quite\na different character of man one way or the other. The effort made as\nthe Stoics direct, would mean no yielding to excitement, no poetry, no\nhigh-strung devotion, no rapture, no ecstasy, no ardour of love, no\nearnest rhetoric spoken or listened to, no mourning, no rejoicing\nother than the most conventional, to the persistent smothering of\nwhatever is natural and really felt, no tear of pity freely let flow,\nno touch of noble anger responded to, no scudding before the breeze of\nindignation,--all this, that reason may keep on the even tenour of her\nway undisturbed.\n\n6. The fault in this picture is that it is not the picture of a man,\nbut of a spirit. He who being man should try to realize it in himself,\nwould fall short of human perfection. For though the sensitive\nappetite is distinguished from the will, and the two may clash and\ncome in conflict, yet they are not two wholly independent powers, but\nthe one man is both will and sensitive appetite, and he rarely\noperates according to one power without the other being brought into\ncorresponding play. There is a similar concomitance of the operations\nof intellect and imagination. What attracts the sensitive appetite,\ncommonly allures also the _affective_ will, though on advertence the\n_elective_ will may reject it. On the other hand, a strong affection\nand election of the will cannot be without the sensitive appetite\nbeing stirred, and that so strongly that the motion is notable in the\nbody,--in other words, is a passion. Passion is the natural and in a\ncertain degree the inseparable adjunct of strong volition. To check\none is to check the other. Not only is the passion repressed by\nrepressing the volition, but the repression of the passion is also the\nrepression of the volition. A man then who did his best to repress all\nmovements of passion indiscriminately, would lay fetters on his will,\nlamentable and cruel and impolitic fetters, where his will was bent on\nany object good and honourable and well-judged.\n\n7. Again, man's will is reached by two channels, from above downwards\nand from below upwards: it is reached through the reason and through\nthe imagination and senses. By the latter channel it often receives\nevil impressions, undoubtedly, but not unfrequently by the former\nalso. Reason may be inconsiderate, vain, haughty, mutinous, unduly\nsceptical. The abuse is no justification for closing either channel.\nNow the channel of the senses and of the imagination is the wider, and\nin many cases affords the better passage of the two. The will that is\nhardly reached by reason, is approached and won by a pathetic sight, a\ncry of enthusiasm, a threat that sends a tremor through the limbs.\nRather I should say the affective will is approached in this way: for\nit remains with the elective will, on advertence and consultation with\nreason, to decide whether or not it shall be won to consent. But were\nit not for the channel of passion, this will could never have been\napproached at all even by reasons the most cogent. Rhetoric often\nsucceeds, where mere dry logic would have been thrown away. God help\nvast numbers of the human race, if their wills were approachable only\nthrough their reasons! They would indeed be fixtures.\n\n8. Another fact to notice is the liability of reason's gaze to become\nmorbid and as it were inflamed by unremitting exercise. I do not here\nallude to hard study, but to overcurious scanning of the realities of\nthis life, and the still greater realities and more momentous\npossibilities of the world to come. There is a sense of the\nsurroundings being too much for us, an alarm and a giddiness, that\ncomes of sober matter-of-fact thought over-much prolonged. Then it\nhappens that one or more undeniable truths are laid hold of, and\nconsidered in strong relief and in isolation from the rest: the result\nis a distorted and partial view of truth as a whole, and therewith the\nmind is troubled. Here the kindlier passions, judiciously allowed to\nplay, come in to soothe the wound and soreness of pure intellect, too\nkeen in its workings for one who is not yet a pure spirit.\n\n9. Moral good and evil are predicable only of _human acts_, in the\ntechnical sense of the term. (c. i., nn. 2--4, p. 41.) As the passions\nby definition (c. iv., s. i., n. 1, p. 41) are not human acts, they\ncan never be morally evil of themselves. But they are an occasion of\nmoral evil in this way. They often serve to wake up the slumbering\nReason. To that end it is necessary that they should start up of\nthemselves without the call of Reason. This would be no inconvenience,\nif the instant Reason awoke, and adverted to the tumult and stir of\nPassion, she could take command of it, and where she saw fit, quell\nit. But Reason has no such command, except in cases where she has\nacquired it by years of hard fighting. Passion once afoot holds on her\ncourse against the dictate of Reason. True, so long as it remains mere\nPassion, and Reason is not dragged away by it, no consent of the will\ngiven, no voluntary act elicited, still less carried into outward\neffect,--so long as things remain thus, however Passion may rage,\nthere is no moral evil done. But there is a great temptation, and in\ngreat temptation many men fall. The evil is the act of free will, but\nthe pressure on the will is the pressure of Passion. But Passion\nhappily is a young colt amenable to discipline. Where the assaults of\nPassion are resolutely and piously withstood, and the incentives\nthereto avoided--unnatural and unnecessary incentives I mean--Passion\nitself acquires a certain habit of obedience to Reason, which habit is\nmoral virtue. Of that presently.\n\n10. In a man of confirmed habits of moral virtue, Passion starts up\nindeed independently of Reason, but then Reason ordinarily finds\nlittle difficulty in regulating the Passion so aroused. In a certain\nhigh and extraordinary condition of human nature, not only has Reason\nentire mastery over Passion wherever she finds it astir, but Passion\ncannot stir in the first instance, without Reason calling upon it to\ndo so. In this case the torpor of the will deprecated above (n. 7) is\nnot to be feared, because Reason is so vigorous and so masterful as to\nbe adequate to range everywhere and meet all emergencies without the\ngoad of Passion. This state is called by divines the _state of\nintegrity_. In it Adam was before he sinned. It was lost at the Fall,\nand has not been restored by the Redemption. It is not a thing in any\nway due to human nature: nothing truly natural to man was forfeited by\nAdam's sin. It is no point of holiness, no guerdon of victory, this\nstate of integrity, but rather a being borne on angel's wings above\nthe battle. But one who has no battle in his own breast against\nPassion, may yet suffer and bleed and die under exterior persecution:\nnay, he may, if he wills, let in Passion upon himself, to fear and\ngrieve, when he need not. So did the Second Adam in the Garden of\nGethsemane.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a, q. 81, art. 2, in corp.; _id._, 1a 2\u00e6, q.\n23, art. 1, in corp.; _ib._, q. 23, art. 2, in corp.; Cicero, _Tusc.\nDisp._, iv., cc. 17-26; St. Aug., _De Civitate Dei_, ix., cc. 4, 5;\nAr, _Eth._, III., v., 3, 4; _ib._, I., xiii., 15-17; St. Thos., 3a, q.\n15, art. 4; _id._, 1a 2\u00e6, q. 59, art. 5; Plato, _Timaeus_, 69, B, E:\n70, A.\n\n\nSECTION II.--_Of Desire_.\n\n\n1. Desires are either _physical_ cravings, by moderns called\n_appetites_; or _physical_ desires or _tastes_, called _desires_\nproper. The appetites have their beginning in bodily uneasiness. They\nare felt needs of something required for the animal maintenance of the\nindividual or of the race. The objects of the several appetites are\nMeat and Drink, Warmth or Coolness, Exercise and Repose, Sleep, Sex.\nThe object of mere appetite is marked by quantity only, not by\nquality. That is to say, the thing is sought for in the vague, in a\ncertain amount sufficient to supply the want, but not this or that\nvariety of the thing. The cry of a hungry man is, \"Give me to eat,\" if\nvery hungry, \"Give me much:\" but so far as he is under the mere\ndominion of appetite he does not crave any particular article of food,\nvegetable or animal: he wants quantity merely. So of thirst, so of all\nthe appetites, where there is nothing else but appetite present.\n\n2. But if a thirsty man cries for champagne, or a hungry man fancies a\nvenison pasty, there is another element beyond appetite in that\ndemand. On the matter of the physical craving there is stamped the\nform of a psychical desire. The psychical element prescribes a quality\nof the objects sought. The thirsty man thus prompted no longer wants\ndrink but wine: the man mewed up within doors no longer calls for\nexercise, but for a horse or a bicycle. It is obvious that in man the\nappetites generally pass into the further shape of psychical desire.\nIt is when the appetite is vehement, or the man is one who makes\nslight study of his animal wants, that pure appetite, sheer physical\ncraving, is best shown. Darius flying before his conqueror is ready to\ndrink at any source, muddy or clear, a drink is all that he wants: it\nis all that is wanted by St. Paul the first Hermit. But your modern\nlounger at the clubs, what variety of liquors are excogitated to\nplease his palate!\n\n3. Not all psychical desires are on the matter of appetite; they may\nbe fixed on any good whatsoever of body or of mind. Many psychical\ndesires are not passions at all, but reside exclusively in the\nsuperior part of the soul, in the will prompted by the understanding,\nand do not affect the body in any sensible way. Such for instance is\nthe great desire of happiness. Those desires that are passions are\nprompted, not by the understanding, but by the imagination or fancy,\nimaging to itself some particular good, not good in general, for that\nthe understanding contemplates. Fancy paints the picture; or if sense\npresents it, fancy appropriates and embellishes it: the sensitive\nappetite fastens upon the representation: the bodily organs sensibly\nrespond; and there is the passion of psychical desire.\n\n4. _Physical cravings, or appetites, have limited objects: the objects\nof psychical desires may be unlimited._ A thirsty man thirsts not for\nan ocean, but for drink _quantum sufficit_: give him that and the\nappetite is gone. But the miser covets all the money that he can get:\nthe voluptuary ranges land and sea in search of a new pleasure: the\nphilosopher ever longs for a higher knowledge: the saint is\nindefatigable in doing good. Whatever a man takes to be an end in\nitself, not simply a means, that he desires without end or measure.\nWhat he desires as a means, he desires under a limitation, so far\nforth as it makes for the end, so much and no more. As Aristotle says\nof the processes of art, \"the end in view is the limit,\" [Greek: peras\nto telos] (cf. c. ii., s. iii., n. 3, p. 15) Whatever is desired as an\nend in itself, is taken to be a part of happiness, or to represent\nhappiness. Happiness and the object that gives happiness is the one\nthing that man desires for itself, and desires without end or measure.\nUnfortunately he is often mistaken in the choice of this object. He\noften takes for an end what is properly only a means. They \"whose god\nis their belly,\" have made this mistake in regard of the gratification\nof appetite. It is not appetite proper that has led to this\nperversion, but psychical desire, or appetite inflamed by the\nartificial stimulus of imagination. For one who would be temperate, it\nis more important to control his imagination than to trouble about his\nappetite. Appetite exhausts itself, sometimes within the bounds of\nwhat is good for the subject, sometimes beyond them, but still within\nsome bounds; but there is no limit to the cravings bred of\nimagination.\n\n5. By this canon a man may try himself to discover whether or not a\nfavourite amusement is gaining too much upon him. An amusement is\nproperly a means to the end, that a man may come away from it better\nfitted to do the serious work of his life. Pushed beyond a certain\npoint, the amusement ceases to minister to this end. The wise man\ndrops it at that point. But if one knows not where to stop: or if when\nstopped in spite of himself, he is restless till he begin again, and\nnever willingly can forego any measure of the diversion that comes\nwithin his reach, the means in that case has passed into an end: he is\nenslaved to that amusement, inasmuch as he will do anything and\neverything for the sake of it. Thus some men serve pleasure, and other\nmen money.\n\n6. Hence is apparent the folly of supposing that crimes against\nproperty are preventible simply by placing it within the power of all\nmembers of the community easily to earn an honest livelihood, and\ntherewith the satisfaction of all their natural needs. It is not\nmerely to escape cold and hunger that men turn to burglary or\nfraudulent dealing: it is more for the gratification of a fancy, the\nsatisfaction of an inordinate desire. Great crimes are not committed\n\"to keep the wolf from the door,\" but because of the wolf in the\nheart, the overgrown psychical desire, which is bred in many a\nwell-nourished, warmly clad, comfortably housed, highly educated\ncitizen. There is a sin born of \"fulness of bread.\"\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 30, art. 3, in corp.; _ib_., q. 30,\nart. 4, in corp.; Ar., _Eth_., III., xi., 1-4: Ar., _Pol_., I., ix.,\n13; _ib_., II., vii., 11-13.\n\nN.B.--The division of desires into _physical_ and _psychical_ is first\nsuggested by Plato, who (_Rep._ 558 D to 559 C) divides them as\n_necessary_ and _unnecessary_. Unnecessary desires he treats as evil.\nWhat Plato calls a _necessary_, Aristotle calls a _physical_, and St.\nThomas a _natural_ desire. Unfortunately, Aristotle and St. Thomas had\nbut one word for our English two, _physical_ and _natural_. Desires\nthat are not physical, not natural nor necessary to man in his animal\ncapacity, may be highly natural and becoming to man as he is a\nreasonable being, or they may be highly unbecoming. These psychical\ndesires, called by St. Thomas _not natural_, take in at once the\nnoblest and the basest aspirations of humanity.\n\n\nSECTION III.--_Of Delight_.\n\n\n1. Delight like desire may be either physical or psychical. All that\nhas been said above of desire under this division applies also to\ndelight, which is the realization of desire. This division does not\naltogether fall in with that into _sensual_ delights and\n_intellectual_ delights. A professional wine-taster could hardly be\nsaid to find intellectual delight in a bottle of good Champagne, real\n_Veuve-Clicquot_: yet certainly his is a psychical delight, no mere\nunsophisticated gratification of appetite. Sensual delights then are\nthose delights which are founded on the gratification of appetite,\nwhether simple--in which case the delight is physical--or studied and\nfancy-wrought appetite, the gratification of which is psychical\ndelight. Intellectual delights on the other hand are those that come\nof the exercise of intellect, not unsupported by imagination, but\nwhere appetite enters not at all, or only as a remote adjunct, albeit\nthe delight may turn upon some sight or sound, as of music, or of a\nfine range of hills. Or the object may be a thing of intellect, pure\nand removed from sense as far as an object of human contemplation can\nbe, for instance, the first elements of matter, freewill, the\nimmensity of God. The study of such objects yields a purer\nintellectual delight than that of the preceding. But this is a high\nground and a keen upper air, where few can tread and breathe.\n\n2. A man has more complacency in himself upon attaining to some\nintellectual delight than upon a sensual satisfaction: he is prouder\nto have solved a problem than to have enjoyed his dinner. Also, he\nwould rather forego the capacity of sensual enjoyment than that of\nintellectual pleasure; rather lose his sense of taste than his science\nor his scholarship, if he has any notable amount of either. Again, put\nsensual delight in one scale, and in the other the intellectual\ndelight of honour, no worthy specimen of a man will purchase the\npleasure at the price of honour. The disgrace attaching to certain\nmodes of enjoyment is sufficient to make men shun them, very pleasant\nthough they be to sense. Again, sensual delight is a passing thing,\nwaxing and waning: but intellectual delight is steady, grasped and\nheld firmly as a whole. But sensual delight comes more welcome of the\ntwo in this that it removes a pre-existing uneasiness, as hunger,\nweariness, nervous prostration, thus doing a medicinal office: whereas\nno such office attaches in the essential nature of things to\nintellectual delight, as that does not presuppose any uneasiness; and\nthough it may remove uneasiness, the removal is difficult, because the\nuneasiness itself is an obstacle to the intellectual effort that must\nbe made to derive any intellectual delight. Sensual enjoyment is the\ncheaper physician, and ailing mortals mostly resort to that door.\n\n3. \"I will omit much usual declamation on the dignity and capacity of\nour nature: the superiority of the soul to the body, of the rational\nto the animal part of our constitution; upon the worthiness,\nrefinement, and delicacy of some satisfactions, or the meanness,\ngrossness, and sensuality of others: because I hold that pleasures\ndiffer in nothing but in continuance and intensity.\" (Paley, _Moral\nPhilosophy_, bk. i., c. vi.)\n\nIn opposition to the above it is here laid down that _delights do not\ndiffer in continuance and intensity, that is, in quantity, alone, but\nlikewise in quality_, that is, some are nobler, better, and more\nbecoming a man than others, and therefore preferable on other grounds\nthan those of mere continuance and intensity. I wish to show that the\nmore pleasant pleasure is not always the better pleasure; that even\nthe pleasure which is more durable, and thereby more pleasant in the\nlong run, is not the better of the two simply as carrying the greater\n_cumulus_ of pleasure. If this is shown, it will follow that pleasure\nis not identical with good; or that pleasure is not happiness, not the\nlast end of man.\n\n4. Delight comes of activity, not necessarily of change, except so far\nas activity itself involves change, as it always does in mortal man.\nDelight sits upon activity, as the bloom upon youth. Bloom is the\nnatural sign of maturity; and the delight that we come to take in\ndoing a thing shows that we are at least beginning to do it well: our\nactivity is approaching perfection. In this sense it is said that\n_delight perfects activity_. As the activity, so will be the delight.\nBut the activity will be as the power of which it is an exercise.\nPowers like in kind will supply like activities, and these again will\nyield delights alike in kind. There is no difference of quality in\nsuch delights, they differ in quantity alone. Thus taste and smell are\ntwo senses: the difference between them can hardly be called one of\nkind: therefore the delights of smelling and of tasting fall under one\ncategory. We may exchange so much smell for an equal amount of taste:\nit is a mere matter of quantity. But between sight and hearing on the\none hand, and taste and smell and touch on the other, there is a wider\ndifference, due to the fact that intellect allies itself more readily\nto the operation of the two former senses.\n\n5. Widest of all differences is that between sense and intellect. To\nexplain this difference in full belongs to Psychology. Enough to say\nhere that the object of sense is always particular, bound up in\ncircumstances of present time and place, as _this horse_: while the\nobject of intellect is universal, as _horse_ simply. The human\nintellect never works without the concurrence either of sense or of\nimagination, which is as it were sense at second hand. As pure\nintellectual operation is never found in man, so neither is pure\nintellectual delight, like that of an angel. Still, as even in man\nsense and intellect are two powers differing in kind, so must their\noperations differ in kind, and the delights consequent upon those\noperations. Therefore, unless Paley would have been willing to allow\nthat the rational and animal parts of our nature differ only as _more_\nand _less_--which is tantamount to avowing that man is but a magnified\nbrute--he ought not to have penned his celebrated utterance, that\npleasures differ only in continuance and intensity: he should have\nadmitted that they differ likewise in kind; or in other words, that\npleasures differ in quality as well as in quantity. The goodness of a\npleasure, then, is not the mere amount of it. To repeat St.\nAugustine's reflection on the drunken Milanese: \"It makes a difference\nwhat source a man draws his delight from.\" [Footnote 2] As in man\nreason is nobler than sense, preferable, and a better good to its\npossessor--for reason it is that makes him man and raises him above\nthe brute--so the use of the reason and the delight that comes thereof\nis nobler, preferable, and a better good to him than the pleasure that\nis of the mere operation of his animal nature. A little of the nobler\ndelight outweighs a vast volume of the baser: not that the nobler is\nthe pleasanter, but because it is the nobler. Nor can it be pretended\nthat the nobler prevails as being the more durable, and thereby likely\nto prove the pleasanter in the long run. The nobler is better at the\ntime and in itself, because it is the more human delight and\ncharacteristic of the higher species. I have but to add that what is\nbetter in itself is not better under all circumstances. The best life\nof man can only be lived at intervals. The lower operations and the\ndelights that go with them have a medicinal power to restore the\nvigour that has become enfeebled by a lengthened exercise of the\nhigher faculties. At those \"dead points\" food and fiddling are better\nthan philosophy.\n\n[Footnote 2: Interest unde quis gaudeat. (S. Aug., Confess., vi., 6.)]\n\n6. This medicinal or restorative virtue of delight is a fact to bear\nin mind in debating the question how far it is right to act for the\npleasure that the action gives. It is certainly wrong to act for mere\nanimal gratification. Such gratification is a stimulus to us to do\nthat which makes for the well-being of our nature: to fling away all\nintention of any good other than the delight of the action, is to\nmistake the incentive for the end proposed. But this is a doctrine\neasily misunderstood. An example may save it from being construed too\nrigidly. Suppose a man has a vinery, and being fond of fruit he goes\nthere occasionally, and eats, not for hunger, but as he says, because\nhe likes grapes. He seems to act for mere pleasure: yet who shall be\nstern enough to condemn him, so that he exceed not in quantity? If he\nreturns from the vinery in a more amiable and charitable mood, more\nsatisfied with Providence, more apt to converse with men and do his\nwork in the commonwealth, who can deny that in acting in view of these\nends, at least implicitly, he has taken lawful means to a proper\npurpose? He has not been fed, but recreated: he has not taken\nnourishment, but medicine, preventive or remedial, to a mind diseased.\nIt is no doubt a sweet and agreeable medicine: this very agreeableness\nmakes its medical virtue. It is a sweet antidote to the bitterness of\nlife. But though a man may live by medicine, he does not live for it.\nSo no man by rights lives for pleasure. The pleasure that a man finds\nin his work encourages him to go on with it. The pleasure that a man\nfinds by turning aside to what is not work, picks him up, rests and\nrenovates him, that he may go forth as from a wayside inn, or\n_diverticulum_, refreshed to resume the road of labour. Hence we\ngather the solution of the question as to the lawfulness of acting for\npleasure. If a man does a thing because it is pleasant, and takes the\npleasure as an incentive to carry on his labour, or as a remedy to\nenable him to resume it, he acts for pleasure rightly. For this it is\nnot necessary that he should expressly think of the pleasure as being\nhelpful to labour: it is enough that he accepts the subordination of\npleasure to work as nature has ordained it; and this ordinance he does\naccept, if he puts forth no positive volition the other way, whether\nexpressly, as none but a wrong-headed theologian is likely to do, or\nvirtually, by taking his pleasure with such greediness that the motion\nof his will is all spent therein as in its last end and terminus, so\nthat the pleasure ceases to be referable to aught beyond itself, a\ncase of much easier occurrence. Or lastly, the natural subordination\nof pleasure to work may be set aside, defeated, and rendered\nimpossible by the whole tenour of an individual's life, if he be one\nof those giddy butterflies who flit from pleasure to pleasure and do\nno work at all. Till late in the morning he sleeps, then breakfasts,\nthen he shoots, lunches, rides, bathes, dines, listens to music,\nsmokes, and reads fiction till late at night, then sleeps again; and\nthis, or the like of this is his day, some three hundred days at least\nin the year. This is not mere acting for pleasure, it is living for\npleasure, or acting for pleasure so continuously as to leave no scope\nfor any further end of life. It may be hard to indicate the precise\nhour in which this man's pleasure-seeking passes into sin: still this\nis clear, his life is not innocent. Clear him of gluttony and lust,\nthere remains upon him the sin of sloth and of a wasted existence.\n\n7. Even the very highest of delights, the delight of contemplation, is\nnot the highest of goods, but a concomitant of the highest good. The\nhighest good is the final object of the will: but the object of the\nwill is not the will's own act: we do not will willing, as neither do\nwe understand understanding, not at least without a reflex effort.\nWhat we will in contemplating is, not to be delighted, but to see.\nThis is the subjective end and happiness of man, to see, to\ncontemplate. Delight is not anything objective: neither is it the\nsubjective last end of humanity. In no sense then is delight, or\npleasure, the highest good.\n\n_Readings_.--Ar., _Eth_., X., iv., 8; _ib_., X., iii., 8-13, _ib_.,\nX., v., 1-5; Plato, _Gorgias_, pp. 494, 495; Mill, _Utilitarianism_,\n2nd. edit., pp. 11-l6; St. Thos., la 2\u00e6, q. 31, art. 5; _id_., _Contra\nGentiles_, iii., 26, nn. 8, 10, 11, 12.\n\n\nSECTION IV.--_Of Anger_.\n\n\n1. Anger is a compound passion, made up of displeasure, desire, and\nhope: displeasure at a slight received, desire of revenge and\nsatisfaction, and hope of getting the same, the getting of it being a\nmatter of some difficulty and calling for some exertion, for we are\nnot angry with one who lies wholly in our power, or whom we despise.\nAnger then is conversant at once with the good of vengeance and with\nthe evil of a slight received: the good being somewhat difficult to\ncompass, and the evil not altogether easy to wipe out. (Cf. s.i., n.4,\np. 43.)\n\n2. Anger is defined: _A desire of open vengeance for an open slight,\nattended with displeasure at the same, the slight being put upon self,\nor upon some dear one, unbefittingly._ The vengeance that the angry\nman craves is a vengeance that all shall see. \"No, ye unnatural hags,\"\ncries Lear in his fury, \"I will do such things,--what they shall be\nyet I know not, but _they shall be the terror of the earth_.\" When we\nare angry, we talk of \"making an example\" of the offender. The idea is\nthat, as all the world has seen us slighted and set at naught, so all\nthe world, witnessing the punishment of the offending party, may take\nto heart the lesson which we are enforcing upon him, namely, that we\nare men of might and importance whom none should despise. Whoever is\nangry, is angry at being despised, flouted to his face and set at\nnaught, either in his own person, or in the person of one whom he\nvenerates and loves, or in some cause that lies near to his heart.\nAnger is essentially a craving for vengeance on account of a wrong\ndone. If then we have suffered, but think we deserve to suffer, we are\nnot angry. If we have suffered wrong, but the wrong seems to have been\ndone in ignorance, or in the heat of passion, we are not angry, or we\nare not so very angry. \"If he had known what he was about,\" we say,\nor, \"if he had been in his right mind, he could not have brought\nhimself to treat me so.\" But when one has done us cool and deliberate\nwrong, then we are angry, because the slight is most considerable.\nThere is an appearance of our claims to considerations having been\nweighed, and found wanting. We call it, \"a cool piece of\nimpertinence,\" \"spiteful malevolence,\" and the like. Any other motive\nto which the wrong is traceable on the part of the wrong-doer, lessens\nour anger against him: but the motive of contempt, and that alone, if\nwe seem to discover it in him, invariably increases it. To this all\nother points are reducible that move our anger, as forgetfulness,\nrudely delivered tidings of misfortune, a face of mirth looking on at\nour distress, or getting in the way and thwarting our purpose.\n\n3. Anger differs from hatred. Hatred is a chronic affection, anger an\nacute one. Hatred wishes evil to a man as it is evil, anger as it is\njust. Anger wishes evil to fall on its object in the sight of all men,\nand with the full consciousness of the sufferer: hatred is satisfied\nwith even a secret mischief, and, so that the evil be a grievous one,\ndoes not much mind whether the sufferer be conscious of it or no. Thus\nan angry man may wish to see him who has offended brought to public\nconfession and shame: but a hater is well content to see his enemy\nspending his fortune foolishly, or dead drunk in a ditch on a lonely\nwayside. The man in anger feels grief and annoyance, not so the hater.\nAt a certain point of suffering anger stops, and is appeased when full\nsatisfaction seems to have been made: but an enemy is implacable and\ninsatiate in his desire of your harm. St. Augustine in his Rule to his\nbrethren says: \"For quarrels, either have them not, or end them with\nall speed, lest anger grow to hatred, and of a mote make a beam.\"\n\n4. Anger, like vengeance, is then only a safe course to enter on, when\nit proceeds not upon personal but upon public grounds. And even by\nthis maxim many deceive themselves.\n\n_Readings_.--Ar., _Rhet_., ii., 2; _ib_., 4, ad fin.; St. Thos., 1a\n2\u00e6, q. 46, art. 2, in corp.; _ib_., q. 46, art. 3, in corp.; _ib_., q.\n46, art. 6; _ib_., q. 47, art. 2.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nOF HABITS AND VIRTUES.\n\nSECTION I.--_Of Habit_.\n\n\n1. _A habit is a quality difficult to change, whereby an agent whose\nnature it was to work one way or another indeterminately, is disposed\neasily and readily at will to follow this or that particular line of\naction_. Habit differs from _disposition_, as disposition is a quality\neasily changed. Thus one in a good humour is in a _disposition_ to be\nkind. Habit is a part of character: disposition is a passing fit.\nAgain, habit differs from faculty, or power: as power enables one to\nact; but habit, presupposing power, renders action easy and\nexpeditious, and reliable to come at call. We have a power to move our\nlimbs, but a habit to walk or ride or swim. Habit then is the\ndeterminant of power. One and the same power works well or ill, but\nnot one and the same habit.\n\n2. A power that has only one way of working, set and fixed, is not\nsusceptible of habit. Such powers are the forces of inanimate nature,\nas gravitation and electricity. A thing does not gravitate better for\ngravitating often. The moon does not obey the earth more readily\nto-day than she did in the days of Ptolemy, or of the Chaldean sages.\nSome specious claim to habit might be set up on behalf of electricity\nand magnetism. A glass rod rubbed at frequent intervals for six\nmonths, is a different instrument from what it would have been, if\nleft all that time idle in a drawer. Then there are such cases as the\ngradual magnetising of an iron bar. Still we cannot speak of\nelectrical habits, or magnetic habits, not at least in things without\nlife, because there is no will there to control the exercise of the\nquality. As well might we speak of a \"tumbledown\" habit in a row of\nhouses, brought on by locomotives running underneath their\nfoundations. It is but a case of an accumulation of small effects,\ninducing gradually a new molecular arrangement, so that the old powers\nact under new material conditions. But habit is a thing of life, an\nappurtenance of will, not of course independent of material conditions\nand structural alterations, in so far forth as a living and volitional\nis also a material agent, but essentially usable _at will_, and\nbrought into play and controlled in its operation by free choice.\nTherefore a habit that works almost automatically has less of the\ncharacter of a true habit, and passes rather out of morality into the\nregion of physics. Again, bad habits, vices to which a man is become a\nslave against his better judgment, are less properly called habits\nthan virtues are; for such evil habits do not so much attend on\nvolition (albeit volition has created them) as drag the will in their\nwake. For the like reason, habit is less properly predicable of brute\nanimals than of men: for brutes have no intelligent will to govern\ntheir habits. The highest brutes are most susceptible of habit. They\nare most like men in being most educable. And, of human progeny, some\ntake up habits, in the best and completest sense of the term, more\nreadily than others. They are better subjects for education: education\nbeing nothing else than the formation of habits.\n\n3. Knowledge consists of intellectual habits. But the habits of most\nconsequence to the moralist lie in the will, and in the sensitive\nappetite as amenable to the control of the will. In this category come\nthe virtues, in the ordinary sense of that name, and secondarily the\nvices.\n\n4. A habit is acquired by acts. Whereupon this difficulty has been\nstarted:--If the habit, say of mental application, comes from acts of\nstudy, and again the acts from the habit, how ever is the habit\noriginally acquired? We answer that there are two ways in which one\nthing may come from another. It may come in point of its very\nexistence, as child from parent; or in point of some mode of\nexistence, as scholar from master. A habit has its very existence from\nacts preceding: but those acts have their existence independent of the\nhabit. The acts which are elicited after the habit is formed, owe to\nthe habit, not their existence, but the mode of their existence: that\nis to say, because of the habit the acts are now formed readily,\nreliably, and artistically, or virtuously. The primitive acts which\ngradually engendered the habit, were done with difficulty, fitfully,\nand with many failures,--more by good luck than good management, if it\nwas a matter of skill, and by a special effort rather than as a thing\nof course, where it was question of moral well-doing. (See c.ii.,\ns.ii., n.9, p. 10.)\n\n5. A habit is a living thing: it grows and must be fed. It grows on\nacts, and acts are the food that sustain it. Unexercised, a habit\npines away: corruption sets in and disintegration. A man, we will say,\nhas a habit of thinking of God during his work. He gives over doing\nso. That means that he either takes to thinking of everything and\nnothing, or he takes up some definite line of thought to the exclusion\nof God. Either way there is a new formation to the gradual ruin of the\nold habit.\n\n6. _Habit_ and _custom_ may be distinguished in philosophical\nlanguage. We may say that custom makes the habit. Custom does not\nimply any skill or special facility. A habit is a channel whereby the\nenergies flow, as otherwise they would not have flowed, freely and\nreadily in some particular direction. A habit, then, is a\ndetermination of a faculty for good or for evil. It is something\nintrinsic in a man, a real modification of his being, abiding in him\nin the intervals between one occasion for its exercise and another:\nwhereas custom is a mere denomination, expressive of frequent action\nand no more. Thus it would be more philosophical to speak of a\n_custom_ of early rising, and of a _custom_ of smoking, rather than of\na _habit_ of smoking, except so far as, by the use of the word\n_habit_, you may wish to point to a certain acquired skill of the\nrespiratory and facial muscles, and a certain acquired temper of the\nstomach, enabling one to inhale tobacco fumes with impunity.\n\n7. Habits are acquired, but it is obvious that the rate of acquisition\nvaries in different persons. This comes from one person being more\npredisposed by _nature_ than another to the acquiring of this or that\nhabit. By nature, that is by the native temper and conformation of his\nbody wherewith he was born, this child is more prone to literary\nlearning, that to mechanics, this one to obstinacy and\ncontentiousness, that to sensuality, and so of the rest. For though it\nis by the soul that a man learns, and by the act of his will and\nspiritual powers he becomes a glutton or a zealot, nevertheless the\nbodily organs concur and act jointly towards these ends. The native\ndispositions of the child's body for the acquisition of habits depend\nto an unascertained extent upon the habits of his ancestors. This is\nthe fact of _heredity_.\n\n8. Man is said to be \"a creature of habits.\" The formation of habits\nin the will saves the necessity of continually making up the mind\nanew. A man will act as he has become habituated, except under some\nspecial motive from without, or some special effort from within. In\nthe case of evil habits, that effort is attended with immense\ndifficulty. The habit is indeed the man's own creation, the outcome of\nhis free acts. But he is become the bondslave of his creature, so much\nso that when the occasion arrives, three-fourths of the act is already\ndone, by the force of the habit alone, before his will is awakened, or\ndrowsily moves in its sleep. The only way for the will to free itself\nhere is not to wait for the occasion to come, but be astir betimes,\nkeep the occasion at arm's length, and register many a determination\nand firm protest and fervent prayer against the habit. He who neglects\nto do this in the interval has himself to blame for being overcome\nevery time that he falls upon the occasion which brings into play the\nevil habit.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 49, art. 4, ad 1, 2; _ib_., q. 50,\nart. 3, in corp., ad. 1, 2; _ib_., q. 51, art. 1, in corp.; _ib_., q.\n53, art. 3, in corp.; Ar., _Eth_., II., i.; _ib_., III., v., 10-14;\n_ib_., II., iv., 1, 2, 4.\n\n\nSECTION II.--_Of Virtues in General_.\n\n\n1. Virtue in its most transcendental sense means the excellence of a\nthing according to its kind. Thus it is the virtue of the eye to see,\nand of a horse to be fleet of foot. Vice is a _flaw_ in the make of a\nthing, going to render it useless for the purpose to which it was\nordained. From the ethical standpoint, virtue is a habit that a man\nhas got of doing moral good, or doing that which it befits his\nrational nature to do: and vice is a habit of doing moral evil. (See\nc. i., n. 5.) It is important to observe that virtue and vice are not\nacts but habits. Vices do not make a man guilty, nor do virtues make\nhim innocent. A man is guilty or innocent according to his acts, not\naccording to his habits. A man may do a wicked thing and not be\nvicious, or a good action and not be virtuous. But no man is vicious\nwho has not done one, two, aye, many wicked things: and to be\nvirtuous, a man must have performed many acts of virtue. Children do\nright and wrong, but they have neither virtues nor vices except in a\nnascent state: there has not yet been time in them for the habits to\nbe formed. When sin is taken away by God and pardoned, the vice, that\nis, the evil habit, if any such existed before, still remains, and\nconstitutes a danger for the future. The habit can only be overcome by\nwatchfulness and a long continuance of contrary acts. But vice is not\nsin, nor is sin vice, nor a good deed a virtue.\n\n2. The name of virtue is given to certain habits residing in the\nintellect, as _intuition_ or _insight_ (into self-evident truths),\n_wisdom_ (regarding conclusions of main application), _science_ (of\nconclusions in special departments), and _art_. These are called\n_intellectual virtues_.\n\nIt was a peculiarity of Socrates' teaching, largely shared by Plato,\nto make all virtue intellectual, a doctrine expressed in the formula,\n_Virtue is knowledge_; which is tantamount to this other, _Vice is\nignorance_, or _an erroneous view_. From whence the conclusion is\ninevitable: _No evil deed is wilfully done_; and therefore, _No man is\nto blame for being wicked_.\n\n3. Undoubtedly there is a certain element of ignorance in all vice,\nand a certain absence of will about every vicious act. There is\nlikewise an intellectual side to all virtue. These positions we\nwillingly concede to the Socratics. Every morally evil act is borne of\nsome voluntary inconsiderateness. The agent is looking the wrong way\nin the instant at which he does wrong. Either he is regarding only the\nsolicitations of his inferior nature to the neglect of the superior,\nor he is considering some rational good indeed, but a rational good\nwhich, if he would look steadily upon it, he would perceive to be\nunbefitting for him to choose. No man can do evil in the very instant\nin which his understanding is considering, above all things else, that\nwhich it behoves him specially to consider in the case. Again, in\nevery wrong act, it is not the sheer evil that is willed, but the good\nthrough or with the evil. Good, real or supposed, is sought for: evil\nis accepted as leading to good in the way of means, or annexed thereto\nas a circumstance. Moreover, no act is virtuous that is elicited quite\nmechanically, or at the blind instance of passion. To be virtuous, the\nthing must be done _on principle_, that is, at the dictate of reason\nand by the light of intellect.\n\n4. Still, virtue is not knowledge. There are other than intellectual\nhabits needed to complete the character of a virtuous man. \"I see the\nbetter course and approve it, and follow the worse,\" said the Roman\npoet. [Footnote 3] \"The evil which I will not, that I do,\" said the\nApostle. It is not enough to have an intellectual discernment of and\npreference for what is right: but the will must be habituated to\nembrace it, and the passions too must be habituated to submit and\nsquare themselves to right being done. In other words, a virtuous man\nis made up by the union of enlightened intellect with the moral\nvirtues. The addition is necessary for several reasons.\n\n[Footnote 3: Video meliora proboque,/Deteriora sequor. (Ovid,\n_Metamorph_., vii., 21.)]\n\n(a) Ordinarily, the intellect does not necessitate the will. The will,\nthen, needs to be clamped and set by habit to choose the right thing\nas the intellect proposes it.\n\n(b) Intellect, or Reason, is not absolute in the human constitution.\nAs Aristotle (_Pol_., I., v., 6) says: \"The soul rules the body with a\ndespotic command: but reason rules appetite with a command\nconstitutional and kingly\": that is to say, as Aristotle elsewhere\n(_Eth_., I., xiii., 15, 16) explains, passion often \"fights and\nresists reason, opposes and contradicts\": it has therefore to be bound\nby ordinances and institutions to follow reason's lead: these\ninstitutions are good habits, moral virtues, resident there where\npassion itself is resident, in the inferior appetite. It is not enough\nthat the rider is competent, but the horse too must be broken in.\n\n(c) It is a saying, that \"no mortal is always wise.\" There are times\nwhen reason's utterance is faint from weariness and vexation. Then,\nunless a man has acquired an almost mechanical habit of obeying reason\nin the conduct of his will and passions, he will in such a conjuncture\nact inconsiderately and do wrong. That habit is moral virtue. Moral\nvirtue is as the fly-wheel of an engine, a reservoir of force to carry\nthe machine past the \"dead points\" in its working. Or again, moral\nvirtue is as discipline to troops suddenly attacked, or hard pressed\nin the fight.\n\n5. Therefore, besides the habits in the intellect that bear the name\nof _intellectual virtues_, the virtuous man must possess other habits,\nas well in the will, that this power may readily embrace what the\nunderstanding points out to be good, as in the sensitive appetite in\nboth its parts, concupiscible and irascible, so far forth as appetite\nis amenable to the control of the will, that it may be so controlled\nand promptly obey the better guidance. These habits in the will and in\nthe sensitive appetite are called _moral virtues_, and to them the\nname of _virtue_ is usually confined.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 71, art. 1, in corp.; _ib_., q. 58,\nart. 2; _ib_., q. 58, art. 3, in corp., ad 3; _ib_., q. 56, art. 4, in\ncorp., ad 1-3.\n\n\nSECTION III.--_Of the Difference between Virtues, Intellectual and\nMoral_.\n\n\n1. St. Thomas (1a 2\u00e6, q. 56, art. 3, in corp.) [Footnote 4] draws this\ndifference, that an intellectual virtue gives one a facility in doing\na good act; but a moral virtue not only gives facility, but makes one\nput the facility in use. Thus a habit of grammar he says, enables one\nreadily to speak correctly, but does not ensure that one always shall\nspeak correctly, for a grammarian may make solecisms on purpose:\nwhereas a habit of justice not only makes a man prompt and ready to do\njust deeds, but makes him actually do them. Not that any habit\nnecessitates volition. Habits do not necessitate, but they facilitate\nthe act of the will. (s. i., nn. 1, 2, 8, pp. 64, 68.)\n\n[Footnote 4: By _doing good_ St. Thomas means the determination of the\nappetite, rational or sensitive, to good. He says that intellectual\nvirtue does not prompt this determination of the appetite. Of course\nit does not: it prompts only the act of the power wherein it resides:\nnow it resides in the intellect, not in the appetite; and it prompts\nthe act of the intellect, which however is cot always followed by an\nact of appetite in accordance with it.]\n\n2. Another distinction may be gathered from St. Thomas (1a 2\u00e6, q. 21,\nart. 2, ad 2), that the special intellectual habit called _art_\ndisposes a man to act correctly towards some particular end, but a\nmoral habit towards the common end, scope and purpose of all human\nlife. Thus medical skill ministers to the particular end of healing:\nwhile the moral habit of temperance serves the general end, which is\nfinal happiness and perfection. So to give a wrong prescription\nthrough sheer antecedent ignorance, is to fail as a doctor: but to get\ndrunk wittingly and knowingly is to fail as a man.\n\n3. The grand distinction between intellectual and moral habits seems\nto be this, that moral habits reside in powers which may act against\nthe dictate of the understanding,--the error of Socrates, noticed\nabove (c. v., s. ii., n. 2, p. 70), lay in supposing that they could\nnot so act: whereas the power which is the seat of the intellectual\nhabits, the understanding, cannot possibly act against itself. Habits\ndispose the subject to elicit acts of the power wherein they reside.\nMoral habits induce acts of will and sensitive appetite: intellectual\nhabits, acts of intellect. Will and appetite may act against what the\nagent knows to be best: but intellect cannot contradict intellect. It\ncannot judge that to be true and beautiful which it knows to be false\nand foul. If a musician strikes discords on purpose, or a grammarian\nmakes solecisms wilfully, he is not therein contradicting the\nintellectual habit within him, for it is the office of such a habit to\naid the intellect to judge correctly, and the intellect here does\ncorrectly judge the effect produced. On the other hand, if the\nmusician or grammarian blunders, the intellect within him has not been\ncontradicted, seeing that he knew no better: the habit of grammar or\nmusic has not been violated, but has failed to cover the case.\nTherefore the intellectual habit is not a safeguard to keep a man from\ngoing against his intelligent self. No such safeguard is needed: the\nthing is impossible, in the region of pure intellect. In a region\nwhere no temptation could enter, intellectual habits would suffice\nalone of themselves to make a perfectly virtuous man. To avoid evil\nand choose good, it would be enough to know the one and the other. But\nin this world seductive reasonings sway the will, and fits of passion\nthe sensitive appetite, prompting the one and the other to rise up and\nbreak away from what the intellect knows all along to be the true good\nof man. Unless moral virtue be there to hold these powers to their\nallegiance, they will frequently disobey the understanding. Such\ndisobedience is more irrational than any mere intellectual error. In\nan error purely intellectual, where the will has no part, the\nobjective truth indeed is missed, but the intelligence that dwells\nwithin the man is not flouted and gain-sayed. It takes two to make a\ncontradiction as to make a quarrel. But an intellectual error has only\none side. The intellect utters some false pronouncement, and there is\nnothing within the man that says otherwise. In the moral error there\nis a contradiction within, an intestine quarrel. The intellect\npronounces a thing not good, not to be taken, and the sensitive\nappetite will throw a veil over the face of intellect, and seize upon\nthe thing. That amounts to a contradiction of a man's own intelligent\nself.\n\n4. It appears that, absolutely speaking, intellectual virtue is the\ngreater perfection of a man: indeed in the act of that virtue, as we\nhave seen, his crowning perfection and happiness lies. But moral\nvirtue is the greater safeguard. The breach of moral virtue is the\ndirer evil. Sin is worse than ignorance, and more against reason,\nbecause it is against the doer's own reason. Moral virtue then is more\nnecessary than intellectual in a world where evil is rife, as it is a\nmore vital thing to escape grievous disease than to attain the highest\ndevelopment of strength and beauty. And as disease spoils strength and\nbeauty, not indeed always taking them away, but rendering them\nvalueless, so evil moral habits subvert intellectual virtue, and turn\nit aside in a wrong direction. The vicious will keeps the intellect\nfrom contemplating the objects which are the best good of man: so the\ncontemplation is thrown away on inferior things, often on base things,\nand an overgrowth of folly ensues on those points whereupon it most\nimports a man to be wise.\n\nTo sum up all in a sentence, not exclusive but dealing with\ncharacteristics: _the moral virtues are the virtues for this world,\nintellectual virtue is the virtue of the life to come_.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 58, art. 2, in corp.; Ar., _Eth_.,\nI., xiii., 15-19; St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 66, art. 3.\n\n\nSECTION IV.--_Of the Mean in Moral Virtue_.\n\n\n1. Moral virtue is a habit of doing the right thing in the conduct of\nthe will and the government of the passions. Doing right is opposed to\noverdoing the thing, and to underdoing it. Doing right is taking what\nit suits a rational nature to desire, and eschewing what is unsuitable\nunder the circumstances. (c. i., n. 5.)\n\nBut a thing may be unsuitable in two ways, by excess, and by defect:\nthe rational choice is in the mean between these two. The moral order\nhere is illustrated from the physical. Too much exercise and too\nlittle alike impair the strength; so of meat and drink in regard to\nhealth; but diet and exercise in moderation, and in proportion to the\nsubject, create, increase, and preserve both health and strength. So\nit is with temperance, and fortitude, and all varieties of moral\nvirtue. He who fights shy of everything, and never stands his ground,\nbecomes a coward; while he who never fears at all, but walks boldly up\nto all danger, turns out rash. The enjoyer of every pleasure, who\nknows not what it is to deny himself aught, is a libertine and loose\nliver; while to throw over all the graces and delicious things of\nlife, not as St. Paul did, who counted all things dross, that he might\ngain Christ, but absolutely, as though such things were of themselves\ndevoid of attraction, is boorishness and insensibility. Thus the\nvirtues of temperance and fortitude perish in excess and defect, and\nlive in the mean. It is to be noticed in this illustration that the\nmean of health is not necessarily the mean of virtue. What is too\nlittle food, and too much exercise, for the animal well-being of a\nman, may be the right amount of both for him in some higher relation,\ninasmuch as he is more than a mere animal; as for a soldier in a hard\ncampaign, where a sufficiency of food and rest is incompatible with\nhis serving his country's need.\n\n2. The taking of means to an end implies the taking them in\nmoderation, not in excess, or we shall overshoot the mark, nor again\nso feebly and inadequately as to fall short of it. No mere instrument\nadmits of an unlimited use; but the end to be gained fixes limits to\nthe use of the instrument, thus far, no more, and no less. Wherever\nthen reason requires an end to be gained, it requires a use of means\nproportionate to the end, not coming short of it, nor going so far\nbeyond as to defeat the purpose in view. The variety of good that is\ncalled the Useful lies within definite limits, between two\nwildernesses, so to speak, stretching out undefined into the distance,\nwilderness of Excess on the one side, and wilderness of Defect on the\nother.\n\n3. A true work of art cannot be added to or taken from without\nspoiling it. A perfect church would be spoiled by a lengthening of the\nchancel or raising the tower, albeit there are buildings, secular and\necclesiastical, that might be drawn out two miles long and not look\nany worse. The colouring of a picture must not be too violent and\npositive; but artistic colouring must be chaste, and artistic\nutterance gentle, and artistic action calm and indicative of\nself-command. Not that voice and action should not be impassioned for\na great emergency, but the very passion should bear the mark of\ncontrol: in the great master's phrase, you must not \"tear a passion to\ntatters.\" It is by moderation sitting upon power that works of art\ntruly masculine and mighty are produced; and by this sign they are\nmarked off from the lower host of things, gorgeous and redundant, and\nstill more from the order of \"the loose, the lawless, the exaggerated,\nthe insolent, and the profane.\"\n\n4. On these considerations Aristotle framed his celebrated definition\nof moral virtue: _the habit of fixing the choice in the golden mean in\nrelation to ourselves, defined by reason, as a prudent man would\ndefine it_. All virtue is a _habit_, as we have seen--a habit of doing\nthat which is the proper act of the power wherein the habit resides.\nOne class of moral virtues is resident in the will, the act of which\npower is properly called _choice_. The rest of the moral virtues\nreside in the sensitive appetite, which also may be said to _choose_\nthat object on which it fastens. Thus moral virtue is a habit of\n_fixing the choice_. The _golden mean_ between two extremes of excess\nand defect respectively has been already explained, and may be further\nshown by a review of the virtues. Besides fortitude and temperance,\nalready described, _liberality_ is a mean between prodigality and\nstinginess; _magnificence_ between vulgar display and pettiness:\n_magnanimity_ between vainglory and pusillanimity; _truthfulness_\nbetween exaggeration and dissimulation; _friendship_ between\ncomplaisance, or flattery, and frowardness,--and so of the rest. The\ngolden mean must be taken _in relation to ourselves_, because in many\nmatters of behaviour and the management of the passions the right\namount for one person would be excessive for another, according to\nvarieties of age, sex, station, and disposition. Thus anger that might\nbecome a layman might be unbefitting in a churchman; and a man might\nbe thought loquacious if he talked as much as a discreet matron.\n[Footnote 5] The golden mean, then, must be _defined by reason_\naccording to the particular circumstances of each case. But as Reason\nherself is to seek where she is not guided by Prudence, the mean of\nvirtue must be defined, not by the reason of the buffoon Pantolabus,\nor of Nomentanus the spendthrift, but _as a prudent man_ would define\nit, given an insight into the case.\n\n[Footnote 5: Ar., _Pol_., III., iv., 17, says just the converse, which\nmarks the altered position of woman in modern society.]\n\n5. The \"golden mean,\" as Horace named it (_Od_., ii., 10), obtains\nprincipally, if not solely, in living things, and in what appertains\nto living things, and in objects of art. A lake, as such, has no\nnatural dimensions: it may be ten miles long, it may be a hundred; but\nan elephant or an oak-tree cannot go beyond a certain growth. There is\na vast range between the temperature of a blast-furnace and the\ntemperature of the ice-pack on the Polar Sea, but very limited is the\nrange possible in the blood of a living man. Viewed artistically, a\nhill may be too low, or a lake want width, for man's eye to rest upon\nit with perfect satisfaction. The golden mean, then, is an artistic\nconception, and what I may call an _anthropological_ conception: it\nsuits man, and is required by man, though Nature may spurn and\nover-ride it. The earthquake, the hurricane, and the angry ocean are\nnot in the golden mean, not at least from a human point of view. If\nman chooses to personify and body forth the powers of nature, he\ncreates some monstrous uncouth figure, like the Assyrian and Egyptian\nidols; but if man makes a study of man, and brings genius and patient\nelaboration to bear on his work, there emerges the symmetry and\nperfect proportion of the Greek statue. No people ever made so much of\nthe beauty of the human form as the ancient Greeks: they made it the\nobject of a passion that marked their religion, their institutions,\ntheir literature, and their art. Their virtues and their vices turned\nupon it. Hence the golden mean is eminently a Greek conception, a\nleading idea of the Hellenic race. The Greek hated a thing overdone, a\ngaudy ornament, a proud title, a fulsome compliment, a high-flown\nspeech, a wordy peroration. _Nothing too much_ was the inscription\nover the lintel of the national sanctuary at Delphi. It is the\nsurpassing grace of Greek art of the best period, that in it there\nshines out the highest power, with _nothing too much_ of straining\nafter effect. The study of Greek literary models operates as a\ncorrective to redundancy, and to what ill-conditioned minds take to be\nfine writing. The Greek artist knew just how far to go, and when to\nstop. That point he called, in his own unsurpassed tongue, the [Greek:\nkairos]. \"The right measure (_kairos_) is at the head of all,\" says\nPindar. \"Booby, not to have understood by how much the half is more\nthan the whole,\" is the quaint cry of Hesiod. Aeschylus puts these\nverses in the mouth of his _Furies_;\n\n  The golden mean is God's delight:\n  Extremes are hateful in His sight.\n  Hold by the mean, and glorify\n  Nor anarchy nor slavery.\n\nCharacteristic of Socrates was his _irony_, or way of understating\nhimself, in protest against the extravagant professions of the\nSophists. In the reckoning of the Pythagoreans, the Infinite, the\nUnlimited, or Unchecked, was marked as evil, in opposition to good,\nwhich was the Limited. From thence, Plato, taking up his parable,\nwrites: \"The goddess of the Limit, my fair Philebus, seeing insolence\nand all manner of wickedness breaking loose from all limit in point of\ngratification and gluttonous greed, established a law and order of\nlimited being; and you say this restraint was the death of pleasure; I\nsay it was the saving of it.\" Going upon the tradition of his\ncountrymen, upon their art and philosophy, their poetry, eloquence,\npolitics, and inmost sentiment, Aristotle formulated the law of moral\nvirtue, to hold by the _golden mean_, as discerned by the prudent in\nview of the present circumstances, between the two extremes of excess\nand defect.\n\n6. There is only one object on which man may throw himself without\nreserve, his last end, the adequate object of his happiness, God. God\nis approached by faith, hope, and charity; but it belongs not to\nphilosophy to speak of these supernatural virtues. There remains to\nthe philosopher the natural virtue of religion, which is a part of\njustice. Religion has to do with the inward act of veneration and with\nits outward expression. To the latter the rule of the mean at once\napplies. Moderation in religion is necessary, so far as externals are\nconcerned. Not that any outward assiduity, pomp, splendour, or\ncostliness, can be too much in itself, or anything like enough, to\nworship God with, but it may be too much for our limited means, which\nin this world are drawn on by other calls. But our inward veneration\nfor God and desire to do Him honour, can never be too intense:\n\"Blessing the Lord, exalt Him as much as you can: for He is above all\npraise.\" (Ecclus. xliii. 33.)\n\n7. The rule of the mean, then, is a human rule, for dealing with men,\nand with human goods considered as means. It is a Greek rule: for the\nGreeks were of all nations the fondest admirers of man and the things\nof man. But when we ascend to God, we are out among the immensities\nand eternities. The vastness of creation, the infinity of the\nCreator,--there is no mode or measure there. In those heights the\nHebrew Psalmist loved to soar. Christianity, with its central dogma of\nthe Incarnation, is the meeting of Hebrew and Greek. That mystery\nclothes the Lord God of hosts with the measured beauty, grace, and\ntruth, that man can enter into. But enough of this. Enough to show\nthat the Aristotelian doctrine of the mean is a highly suggestive and\nwide-reaching doctrine beyond the sphere of Morals. It throws out one\ngreat branch into Art, another into Theology.\n\n8. The vicious extremes, on this side and on that of a virtue, are not\nalways conterminous with the virtue itself, but sometimes another and\nmore excellent virtue intervenes; as in giving we may pass from\njustice to liberality, and only through passing the bounds of\nliberality, do we arrive at the vicious extreme of prodigality. So\npenitential fasting intervenes between temperance in food and undue\nneglect of sustenance. But it is to be noted that the _central\nvirtue_, so to speak, as justice, sobriety, chastity, is for all\npersons on all occasions: the more excellent _side-virtue_, as\nliberality, or total abstinence, is for special occasions and special\nclasses of persons.\n\n_Readings_.--Ar., _Eth_., II., ii., 6, 7; _ib_., II., cc. 6-9; Hor.,\n_Odes_, II., 10; Ruskin, _Modern Painters_, p. 3, s. i., c. x.\n\n\nSECTION V.--_Of Cardinal Virtues_.\n\n\n1. The enumeration of cardinal virtues is a piece of Greek philosophy\nthat has found its ways into the catechism. Prudence, justice,\nfortitude, and temperance are mentioned by Plato as recognised heads\nof virtue. They are recognised, though less clearly, by Xenophon,\nreporting the conversations of Socrates. It does not look as though\nSocrates invented the division: he seems to have received it from an\nearlier source, possibly Pythagoras. They are mentioned in Holy\nScripture (Wisdom viii., 7, which is however a Greek book), and\nProverbs viii., 14. They make no figure in the philosophies of India\nand China.\n\n2. The cardinal virtues are thus made out.--Virtue is a habit that\ngives a man readiness in behaving according to the reason that is in\nhim. Such a habit may be fourfold. (a) It may reside in the reason, or\nintellect itself, enabling it readily to discern the reasonable thing\nto do, according to particular circumstances as they occur. That habit\nis the virtue of _prudence_. (b) It may reside in the rational\nappetite, otherwise called the will, disposing a man to act fairly and\nreasonably in his dealings with other men. That is _justice_. (c) It\nmay reside in the irrational, or sensitive, appetite, and that to a\ntwofold purpose; (a) to restrain the said appetite in its\nconcupiscible part from a wanton and immoderate eagerness after\npleasure; that is _temperance_: (b) to incite the said appetite in its\nirascible part not to shrink from danger, where there is reason for\ngoing on in spite of danger; that is _fortitude_.\n\n3. Plato compares the rational soul in man to a charioteer, driving\ntwo horses: one horse representing the concupiscible, the other the\nirascible part of the sensitive appetite. He draws a vivid picture of\nthe resistance of the concupiscible part against reason, how madly it\nrushes after lawless pleasure, and how it is only kept in restraint by\nmain force again and again applied, till gradually it grows\nsubmissive. This submissiveness, gradually acquired, is the virtue of\ntemperance. Clearly the habit dwells in the appetite, not in reason:\nin the horse, not in the charioteer. It is that habitual state, which\nin a horse we call _being broken in_.\n\nThe concupiscible appetite is _broken in_ to reason by temperance\nresiding within it. Plato lavishes all evil names on the steed that\nrepresents the concupiscible part. But the irascible part, the other\nsteed, has its own fault, and that fault twofold, sometimes of\nover-venturesomeness, sometimes of shying and turning tail. The habit\nengendered, in the irascible part, of being neither over-venturesome\nnor over-timorous, but going by reason, is termed fortitude. [Footnote\n6]\n\n[Footnote 6: It will help an Englishman to understand Plato's\ncomparison, if instead of _concupiscible part_ and _irascible part_,\nwe call the one steed Passion and the other Pluck. Pluck fails, and\nPassion runs to excess, till Pluck is formed to fortitude, and Passion\nto temperance.]\n\n4. As the will is the rational appetite, the proper object of which is\nrational good, it does not need to be prompted by any habit to embrace\nrational good in what concerns only the inward administration of the\nagent's own self. There is no difficulty in that department, provided\nthe sensitive appetite be kept in hand by fortitude and temperance.\nBut where there is question of external relations with other men, it\nis not enough that the sensitive appetite be regulated, but a third\nvirtue is necessary, the habit of justice, to be planted in the will,\nwhich would otherwise be too weak to attend steadily to points, not of\nthe agent's own good merely, but of the good of other men.\n\n5. Thus we have the four cardinal virtues: prudence, a habit of the\nintellect; temperance, a habit of the concupiscible appetite;\nfortitude, a habit of the irascible appetite; and justice, a habit of\nthe will. Temperance and Fortitude in the Home Department; Justice for\nForeign Affairs; with Prudence for Premier. Or, to use another\ncomparison, borrowed from Plato, prudence is the health of the soul,\ntemperance its beauty, fortitude its strength, and justice its wealth.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 61, art. 2, in corp.; _ib_., q. 56,\nart. 4, in corp., ad 1-3; _ib_., q. 56, art. 6, in corp., ad 1, 3;\n_ib_., q. 59, art. 4, in corp., ad 2; Plato, _Laws_, 631 B, C.\n\n\nSECTION VI.--_Of Prudence_.\n\n\n1. Prudence is _right reason applied to practice_, or more fully it\nmay be defined, the habit of intellectual discernment that enables one\nto hit upon the golden mean of moral virtue and the way to secure that\nmean. Thus prudence tells one what amount of punishment is proper for\na particular delinquent, and how to secure his getting it. It is to be\nobserved that prudence does not will the golden mean in question, but\nsimply indicates it. To will and desire the mean is the work of the\nmoral virtue concerned therewith: as in the case given it is the work\nof vindictive justice.\n\n2. From the definition of moral virtue above given (c. v., s. iv., n.\n4, p. 79), it is clear that no moral virtue can come into act without\nprudence: for it is the judgment of the prudent man that must define\nin each case the _golden mean_ in relation to ourselves, which every\nmoral virtue aims at. Thus, without prudence, fortitude passes into\nrashness, vindictive justice into harshness, clemency into weakness,\nreligion into superstition.\n\n3. But may not one with no prudence to guide him hit upon the _golden\nmean_ by some happy impulse, and thus do an act of virtue? We answer,\nhe may do a good act, and if you will, a virtuous act, but not an act\nof virtue, not an act proceeding from a pre-existent habit in the\ndoer. The act is like a good stroke made by chance, not by skill; and\nlike such a stroke, it cannot be readily repeated at the agent's\npleasure. (See c. v., s. i., n. 4, p. 66; and Ar., _Eth_., II., iv.,\n2.)\n\n4. Prudence in its essence is an intellectual virtue, being a habit\nresident in the understanding: but it deals with the subject-matter of\nthe moral virtues, pointing out the measure of temperance, the bounds\nof fortitude, or the path of justice. It is the habit of intellectual\ndiscernment that must enlighten every moral virtue in its action.\nThere is no virtue that goes blundering and stumbling in the dark.\n\n5. He is a prudent man, that can give counsel to others and to himself\nin order to the attainment of ends that are worthy of human endeavour.\nIf unworthy ends are intended, however sagaciously they are pursued,\nthat is not prudence. We may call it _sagacity_, or _shrewdness_,\nbeing a habit of ready discernment and application of means to ends.\nNapoleon I. was conspicuous for this sagacity. It is the key to\nsuccess in this world. But prudence discovers worthy ends only, and to\nthem only does it provide means. The intellect is often blinded by\npassion, by desire and by fear, so as not to discern the proper end\nand term to make for in a particular instance and a practical case.\nThe general rules of conduct remain in the mind, as that, \"In anger be\nmindful of mercy:\" but the propriety of mercy under the present\nprovocation drops out of sight. The intellect does not discern the\ngolden mean of justice and mercy in relation to the circumstances in\nwhich the agent now finds himself. In other words, the habit of\nprudence has failed; and it has failed because of the excess of\npassion. Thus prudence is dependent on the presence of the virtues\nthat restrain passion, namely, fortitude and temperance. A like\nargument would hold for the virtue of justice, that rectifies\ninordinate action in dealing with another. The conclusion is, that as\nthe moral virtues cannot exist without prudence, so neither can\nprudence exist without them: for vice corrupts the judgment of\nprudence.\n\n6. Hence we arrive at a settlement of the question, whether the\nvirtues can be separated, or whether to possess one is to possess all.\nWe must distinguish between the rudimentary forms of virtue and the\nperfect habit. The rudimentary forms certainly can exist separate:\nthey are a matter of temperament and inherited constitution: and the\nman whom nature has kindly predisposed to benevolence, she has perhaps\nvery imperfectly prepared for prudence, fortitude, or sobriety. But\none perfect habit of any one of the four cardinal virtues, acquired by\nrepeated acts, and available at the call of reason, involves the\npresence, in a matured state, of the other three habits also. A man\nwho acts irrationally upon one ground, will behave irrationally on\nother grounds also: or if his conduct be rational there, it will not\nbe from regard for reason, but from impulse, temperament, or from some\nother motive than the proper motive of the virtue which he seems to be\nexercising.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 54, art. 4; _ib_., q. 58, art. 5, in\ncorp.; _ib_., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 47, art. 7, 12, 13; Ar., _Eth_., VI., v.;\n_ib_., VI., xii., 9, 10; _ib_., VI., xiii., 6; St. Francis of Sales,\n_Of the Love of God_, bk. xi., c. vii.\n\n\nSECTION VII.--_Of Temperance_.\n\n\n1. Temperance is a virtue which regulates by the judgment of reason\nthose desires and delights which attend upon the operations whereby\nhuman nature is preserved in the individual and propagated in the\nspecies. Temperance is the virtue contrary to the two deadly sins of\nGluttony and Lust. As against the former, it represents Abstinence, or\nmoderation in solid food, and Sobriety, which is moderation in drink.\nAs against the latter, it is the great virtue of Chastity. The student\nmust bear in mind that, to a philosopher, Temperance does not mean\nTotal Abstinence, and Abstinence is quite independent of Fridays and\nflesh-meat. Temperance then is made up of Abstinence, Sobriety, and\nChastity.\n\nAristotle writes: \"Cases of falling short in the taking of pleasure,\nand of people enjoying themselves less than they ought, are not apt to\noccur: for such insensibility is not human: but if there be any one to\nwhom nothing is pleasant, and all comes alike in the matter of taste,\nhe must be far from the state and condition of humanity: such a being\nhas no name, because he is nowhere met with.\" This is true, because\nwhere there is question of a virtue, such as Temperance, resident in\nthe concupiscible appetite, we are not concerned with any sullenness\nor moroseness of will, nor with any scrupulosity or imbecility of\njudgment, refusing to gratify the reasonable cravings of appetite, but\nwith the habitual leaning and lie of the appetite itself. Now the\nconcupiscible appetite in every man, of its own nature, leans to its\nproper object of delectable good. No virtue is requisite to secure it\nfrom too little inclination that way: but to restrain the appetite\nfrom going out excessively to delight is the function, and the sole\nfunction, of Temperance. The measure of restraint is relative, as the\ngolden mean is relative, and varies with different persons and in view\nof different ends. The training of the athlete is not the training of\nthe saint.\n\n3. Besides the primary virtue of Temperance, and its subordinate\nspecies (enumerated above, n. 1), certain other virtues are brought\nunder Temperance in a secondary sense, as observing in easier matters\nthat moderation and self-restraint which the primary virtue keeps in\nthe matter that is most difficult of all. St. Thomas calls these\n_potential parts_ of Temperance. There is question here of what is\nmost difficult to man as an animal, not of what is most difficult to\nhim as a rational being. To rational man, as such, ambition is harder\nto restrain than sensuality: which is proved by the fact that fewer\nmen, who have any ambition in them, do restrain that passion than\nthose who restrain the animal propensities that are common to all. But\nto man as an animal (and vast numbers of the human race rise little\nabove the animal state), it is hardest of all things to restrain those\nappetites that go with the maintenance and propagation of flesh and\nblood. These then are the proper matter of Temperance: other virtues,\npotential parts of Temperance, restrain other cravings which are less\nanimal. Of these virtues the most noticeable are humility, meekness,\nand modesty. [Footnote 7]\n\n[Footnote 7: This is St. Thomas's arrangement, placing Humility under\nTemperance. The connection of Humility with Magnanimity, and thereby\nwith Fortitude, is indicated pp. 100, 101.]\n\n4. There is a thirst after honour and preeminence, arising from\nself-esteem, and prevalent especially where there is little thought of\nGod, and scant reverence for the present majesty of heaven. A man who\nthinks little of his Maker is great in his own eyes, as our green\nEnglish hills are mountains to one who has not seen the Alpine heights\nand snows. Apart from the consideration of God there is no humility;\nand this is why Aristotle, who treats of virtues as they minister to\nthe dealings of man with man, makes no mention of this virtue. There\nare certain outward manifestations in words, acts, and gestures, the\ndemeanour of a humble man, which is largely identified with modesty\nand with submission to others as representing God.\n\n5. Modesty is that outward comportment, style of dress, conversation,\nand carriage, which indicates the presence of Temperance, \"set up on\nholy pedestal\" (Plato, _Phaedr_., 254 B) in the heart within.\n\n6. Meekness is moderation in anger, and is or should be the virtue of\nall men. Clemency is moderation in punishment, and is the virtue of\nmen in office, who bear the sword or the rod.\n\n7. As regards the vices opposite to Temperance, an important\ndistinction is to be drawn between him who sins by outburst of passion\nand him whose very principles are corrupt. [Footnote 8] The former in\ndoing evil acknowledges it to be evil, and is prone to repent of it\nafterwards: the latter has lost his belief in virtue, and his\nadmiration for it: he drinks in iniquity like water, with no\nafter-qualms; he glories in his shame. The former is reclaimable, the\nlatter is reprobate: his intellect as well as his heart is vitiated\nand gone bad. If there were no miracles, he would be a lost man: but\nGod can work miracles in the moral as in the physical order: in that\nthere is hope for him.\n\n[Footnote 8: See the note in _Aquinas Ethicus_, Vol. I., pp. 170,\n171.]\n\n8. A nation need not be virtuous in the great bulk of her citizens, to\nbe great in war and in dominion, in laws, in arts, and in literature:\nbut the bulk of the people must possess at least the sense and\nappreciation of virtue in order to such national greatness. When that\nsense is lost, the nation is undone and become impotent, for art no\nless than for empire. Thus the Greece of Pericles and of Phidias fell,\nto be \"living Greece no more.\"\n\n9. As in other moral matters, no hard and fast line of division exists\nbetween sinning from passion and sinning on principle, but cases of\nthe one shade into cases of the others, and by frequent indulgence of\npassion principle is brought gradually to decay.\n\n_Readings_.--Ar., _Eth._, III., x.; St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 141, art. 2;\n_ib._, q. 141, art. 3, in corp.; _ib._, q. 142, art. 1; _ib._, q. 143,\nart. 1, in corp., ad 2, 3; _ib._, q. 161, art. 1, ad 5; _ib._, q. 161,\nart. 2, in corp.; _ib._, q. 161, art. 6, in corp., ad 1; _ib._, q.\n157, art. 1, in corp., ad 3; _ib_, q. 156, art. 3; Ar., _Eth._, VII.,\nviii.\n\n\nSECTION VIII.--_Of Fortitude_.\n\n\n1. As Temperance is a curb, restraining animal nature in the pursuit\nof the good to which it goes out most eagerly, namely, life and the\nmeans of its continuance, so Fortitude also is a curb, withholding\nthat nature from irrational flight from the evil which it most dreads.\nAristotle tells us what that evil is: \"Most dreadful of all things is\ndeath, for it is the limit, and for the dead man there appears to be\nno further good nor evil left.\" (_Eth._, III, vi., b.) Death is truly\nthe limit to human existence: for, though the soul be immortal, the\nbeing of flesh and blood, that we call man, is dissolved in death,\nand, apart from supernatural hope of the resurrection, extinct for\never. Death therefore is the direst of all evils in the animal\neconomy; and as such, is supremely abhorred by the sensitive appetite,\nwhich is the animal part of man. Fortitude moderates this abhorrence\nand fear by the dictate of reason. Reason shows that there are better\nthings than life, and things worse than death, for man in his\nspiritual capacity as an intellectual and immortal being.\n\n2. Fortitude is a mean between Cowardice and Rashness, to which\nopposite extremes we are carried by the contrary passions of Fear and\nDaring respectively. Fortitude thus is a two-sided virtue, moderating\ntwo opposite tendencies: while Temperance is one-sided, moderating\nDesire alone. Life, rationally considered, bears undoubtedly a high\nvalue, and is not to be lightly thrown away, or risked upon trivial or\nignoble objects. The brave man is circumspect in his ventures, and\nmoderate in his fears, which implies that he does fear somewhat. He\nwill fear superhuman visitations, as the judgments of God. He will\ndread disgrace, and still more, sin. He will fear death in an unworthy\ncause. And even in a good cause, it has well been said: \"The truly\nbrave man is not he who fears no danger, but the man whose mind\nsubdues the fear, and braves the danger that nature shrinks from.\" The\nDuke of Marlborough is said to have quaked in the saddle as he rode\ninto action, saying: \"This poor body trembles at what the mind within\nis about to do.\" Fortitude then is the virtue that restrains fear and\nregulates venturesomeness by the judgment of reason, in danger\nespecially of a grand and glorious death.\n\n3. To the ancients, there was no grander object of devotion than the\nState, their native city: no direr misfortune than its dissolution, or\nthe loss of its self-government: no nobler death than to die in arms\nin its defence. As old Tyrt\u00e6us sang:\n\n  A noble thing it is to lie dead, fallen in the front ranks,\n  A brave man in battle for his country. [Footnote 9]\n\n[Footnote 9:\n  [Greek: tethnamenai gar kalon, eni promachoisi pesonta,\n  andr' agathon peri hae patridi marnamenon.]\n([Greek: Tyrtaeus apud Lycurg])]\n\nSuch a death was taken to be the seal and stamp of the highest\nfortitude. Nor has Christianity dimmed the glory that invests a\nsoldier's death. Only it points to a brighter glory, and a death in a\nstill nobler cause, the death of the martyr who dies for the faith,\nand becomes valiant in battle for what is more to him than any earthly\ncity, the Church, the City of God. Nor must the martyr of charity, who\ndies in succouring his neighbour, go without the praise of fortitude:\nnor, in short, any one who braves death, or other heavy affliction, in\nthe discharge of duty, or when forwarding a good cause.\n\n4. A man may brave death in a good cause, and not be doing an act of\nfortitude. So he may subscribe a large sum to a charitable purpose\nwithout any exercise of the virtue of charity. A virtue is then only\nexercised, when its outward act is performed from the proper motive of\nthe virtue, and not from any lower motive. Thus the proper motive of\nFortitude is the conviction that death is an evil, the risk of which\nis to be left out of count as a circumstance relatively\ninconsiderable, when there is question of the defence of certain\ninterests dearer to a good man than life. An improper motive would be\nanger, which, however useful as an accessory, by itself is not an\nintellectual motive at all, and therefore no motive of virtue. The\nrecklessness of an angry man is not Fortitude. It is not Fortitude to\nbe brave from ignorance or stupidity, not appreciating the danger: nor\nagain from experience, knowing that the apparent danger is not real,\nat least to yourself. The brave man looks a real danger in the face,\nand knows it, and goes on in spite of it, because so it is meet and\njust, with the cause that he has, to go on.\n\n5. We may notice as _potential_ parts of Fortitude (s. vii., n. 3, p.\n92), the three virtues of Magnificence, Magnanimity, and Patience. It\nis the part of Patience, philosophically to endure all sufferings\nshort of death. It is the part of the former two, to dare wisely, not\nin a matter of life and death, but in the matter of expense, for\nMagnificence, and of honour, for Magnanimity. Magnificence,\ntechnically understood, observes the right measure in the expenditure\nof large sums of money. As being conversant with large sums, it\ndiffers from Liberality. A poor man may be liberal out of his little\nstore, but never magnificent. It is a virtue in the rich, not to be\nafraid of spending largely and lavishly on a great occasion, or a\ngrand purpose. The expense may be carried beyond what the occasion\nwarrants: that is one vicious extreme. The other extreme would be to\nmar a costly work by sordid parsimony on a point of detail. It is not\neasy to be magnificent: in the first place, because not many are rich;\nand then because riches are seldom united with greatness of soul and\ngood judgment. Something analogous to the virtue of Magnificence is\nshown in the generous use of great abilities, or, in the supernatural\norder, of great graces. The destinies of the world lie with those men\nwho have it in their power to be magnificent.\n\n6. We are come to Magnanimity and the Magnanimous Man, the great\ncreation of Aristotle. As Magnanimity ranks under Fortitude, there\nmust be some fear to which the Magnanimous Man rises superior, as the\nbrave man rises superior to the fear of death. What Magnanimity\novercomes is the fear of undeserved dishonour. The Magnanimous Man is\nhe who rates himself as worthy of great honours, and is so worthy\nindeed. When honour is paid to such a one, he makes no great account\nof it, feeling that it is but his due, or even less than his due. If\nhe is dishonoured and insulted, he despises the insult as an\nabsurdity, offered to a man of his deserts. He is too conscious of his\nreal worth to be much affected by the expression of his neighbour's\nview of him. For a man is most elated, when complimented on an\nexcellence which he was not very sure of possessing: and most sensibly\ngrieved at an insult, where he half suspects himself of really making\na poor figure, whereas he would like to make a good one. It is\ndoubtless the serene and settled conviction that Englishmen generally\nentertain of the greatness of their country, that enables them to\nlisten with equanimity to abase of England, such as no other people in\nEurope would endure levelled at themselves.\n\n7. _Proud_ is an epithet pretty freely applied to Englishmen abroad,\nand it seems to fit the character of the Magnanimous Man. He seems a\nPharisee, and worse than a Pharisee. The Pharisee's pride was to some\nextent mitigated by breaking out into that disease of children and\nsilly persons, vanity: he \"did all his works to be seen of men.\" But\nhere the disease is all driven inwards, and therefore more malignant.\nThe Magnanimous Man is so much in conceit with himself as to have\nbecome a scorner of his fellows. He is self-sufficient, a deity to\nhimself, the very type of Satanic pride. These are the charges brought\nagainst him.\n\n8. To purify and rectify the character of the Magnanimous Man, we need\nto take a leaf out of the book of Christianity. Not that there is\nanything essentially Christian and supernatural in what we are about\nto allege: otherwise it would not belong to philosophy: it is a truth\nof reason, but a truth generally overlooked, till it found its\nexponent in the Christian preacher, and its development in the\narticles of the Christian faith. The truth is this. There is in every\nhuman being what theologians have called _man and man_: man as he is\nof himself, man again as he is by the gift and gracious mercy of God.\nThe reasonably Magnanimous Man is saved from pride by this\ndistinction. Of himself, he knows that he is nothing but nothingness,\nmeanness, sinfulness, and a walking sore of multitudinous actual sins.\n\"I know that there dwelleth not in me, that is, in my flesh, any\ngood.\" (Rom. vii. 18.) If he is insulted, he takes it as his due, not\nany questionable due, for then he would resent the insult, but as\nbeing undoubtedly what he deserves. If he is honoured, he smiles at\nthe absurdity of the compliments paid to him. It is as if an old\ngentleman, a prey to gout and rheumatism, were lauded for his\nfleetness of foot. He is then truly magnanimous on this side of his\ncharacter by a kind of obverse magnanimity, that bears insults\nhandsomely, as deserved, and honours modestly, as undeserved.\n\n9. But let us go round to the other side of the reasonably Magnanimous\nMan. He was defined to be, \"one that deems himself worthy of great\nhonours, and is so worthy indeed.\" Now, nothing is truly worthy of\nhonour but virtue. He must then be a good man, full of all virtues;\nand all this goodness that he has, he recognises as being in him of\nGod. He has \"received God's Spirit\"--or something analogous in the\nnatural order to the gift of the Holy Ghost--\"that he may know the\nthings that are given him of God.\" (2 Cor. ii. 12.) It is told of St.\nFrancis of Assisi, the humblest of men, that on one occasion when he\nand his companions received from some persons extraordinary marks of\nveneration, he, contrary to his usual wont, took it not at all amiss:\nand said to his companions, who wondered at his behaviour, \"Let them\nalone: they cannot too much honour the work of God in us.\" This\nmagnanimity bears honours gracefully, and insult unflinchingly, from a\nconsciousness of internal worth, which internal worth and goodness\nhowever it takes not for its own native excellence, but holds as\nreceived from God, and unto God it refers all the glory.\n\n10. Thus the genuine Magnanimous Man is a paradox and a prodigy. He\ndespises an insult as undeserved, and he takes it as his due. He is\nconscious of the vast good that is in him; and he knows that there is\nno good in him. Highly honoured, he thinks that he gets but his due,\nwhile he believes that vials of scorn and ignominy may justly be\npoured upon him. He will bear the scorn, because he deserves it, and\nagain, because it is wholly undeserved. The Magnanimous Man is the\nhumble man. The secret of his marvellous virtue is his habit of\npractical discernment between the abyss of misery that he has within\nhimself, as of himself, and the high gifts, also within him, which\ncome of the mercy of God. Aristotle well says, \"Magnanimity is a sort\nof robe of honour to the rest of the virtues: it both makes them\ngreater and stands not without them: therefore it is hard to be truly\nmagnanimous, for that cannot be without perfect virtue.\" We may add,\nthat in the present order of Providence none can be magnanimous\nwithout supernatural aid, and supernatural considerations of the life\nof Christ, which however are not in place here.\n\n_Readings_.--Ar., _Eth_., III., vii.; St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 123, art 3,\nin corp.; Ar., _Eth_., III., viii.; St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 123, art. i,\nad 2; Ar., _Eth_., III., vi.; St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 123, art. 4, 5. For\nthe Magnificent and Magnanimous Man, Ar., _Eth_., IV., ii., iii.; St.\nThos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 129, art. 3, ad 4, 5.\n\n\nSECTION IX.--_Of Justice_.\n\n\n1. Justice is a habit residing in the will, prompting that power\nconstantly to render unto everyone his own. The fundamental notion of\nJustice is some sort of equality. Equality supposes two terms,\nphysically distinct, or capable of existing separately, one from the\nother. Between such terms alone can equality be properly predicated.\nAny less distinction than this leaves room only for equality\nimproperly so called, and therefore no room for what is properly\ntermed Justice. When therefore Plato, going about to find a definition\nof Justice, which is a main object in his _Republic_, acquiesces in\nthis position, that Justice consists in every part of the soul,\nrational, irascible, and concupiscible, fulfilling its own proper\nfunction, and not taking up the function of another, he fails for this\nreason, that all Justice is relative to another, but the different\nparts of one soul are not properly _other_ and _other_, since all go\nto make up one man: therefore, however much Justice may be identical\nwith doing your own business, and leaving your neighbour free to do\nhis, yet this relation obtaining among the various parts of the soul\ncannot properly be called Justice. What Plato defines is the beauty,\ngood order, and moral comeliness of the soul, but not Justice in any\nsense, inasmuch as it is not referred to any being human or divine,\ncollective or individual, outside of the man himself.\n\n2. Going upon the principle that all Justice is of the nature of\n_equality_, and is therefore relative to _another_, we arrive at the\ndefinition of _general justice_, which is all virtue whatsoever,\ninasmuch as it bears upon another person than him who practises it.\nThis Justice is perfect social virtue, the crown and perfection of all\nvirtue from a statesman's point of view; and in that aspect, as\nAristotle says, \"neither morning star nor evening star is so\nbeautiful.\" Whoever has this virtue behaves well, not by himself\nmerely, but towards others--a great addition. Many a one who has done\nwell enough as an individual, has done badly in a public capacity:\nwhence the proverb, that office shows the man. This Justice may well\nbe called _another man's good_: though not in the sense of the\nsophists of old, and the altruists of our time, that virtue is a very\ngood thing for everyone else than its possessor. Virtue, like health,\nmay be beneficial to neighbours, but the first benefit of it flows in\nupon the soul to whom it belongs: for virtue is the health of the\nsoul.\n\n3. Another elementary notion of Justice connects it with Law, taking\nJustice to be conformity to Law. This notion exhibits _legal justice_,\nwhich is the same thing, under another aspect, as the _general\njustice_ mentioned above, inasmuch as _general justice_ includes the\nexercise of all virtues in so far as they bear upon the good of\nothers: and the law, to which _legal justice_ conforms a man, enjoins\nacts of all virtues for the common good. It must be observed, however,\nthat though there is no natural virtue of which the law of man may not\nprescribe some exercise, still no human law enjoins all acts of all\nvirtues, not even all obligatory acts. A man may fail in his duty\nthough he has kept all the laws of man. In order then that _legal\njustice_ may include the whole duty of man, it must be referred to\nthat natural and eternal law of God, revealed or unrevealed, of which\nwe shall speak hereafter. By being conformed to this divine law a man\nis a _just man_, a _righteous man_. It is this sense of Justice that\nappears in the theological term, _justification_. In this sense,\nZachary and Elizabeth \"were both just before God, walking in all the\ncommandments of the Lord without blame.\" (St. Luke i. 6.)\n\n4. _General_, or _legal, justice_ is not the cardinal virtue so\ncalled, but is in one point of view identical with all virtue.\nDistinguished from the other three cardinal virtues is _particular\njustice_, which is divided into _distributive_ and _commutative\njustice_. _Distributive justice_ is exercised by the community through\nits head towards its individual members, so that there be a fair\ndistribution of the common goods, in varying amount and manner,\naccording to the various merits and deserts of the several recipients.\nThe matters distributed are public emoluments and honours, public\nburdens, rewards, and also punishments. _Distributive justice_ is the\nvirtue of the king and of the statesman, of the commander-in-chief, of\nthe judge, and of the public functionary generally. It is violated by\nfavouritism, partiality, and jobbery. _Distributive justice_ is the\nJustice that we adore in the great Governor of the Universe, saying\nthat He is \"just in all His works,\" even though we understand them\nnot. When it takes the form of punishing, it is called _vindictive\njustice_. This is what the multitudes clamoured for, that filled the\nprecincts of the Palace of Whitehall in the days of Charles I. with\ncries of Justice, Justice, for the head of Strafford.\n\n5. Neither legal nor distributive justice fully answers to the\ndefinition of that virtue. Justice disposes us to give _to another his\nown_. The party towards whom Justice is practised must be wholly other\nand different from him who practises it. But it is clear that the\nmember of a civil community is not wholly other and different from the\nState: he is partially identified with the civil community to which he\nbelongs. Therefore neither the tribute of _legal justice_ paid by the\nindividual to the State, nor the grant of _distributive justice_ from\nthe State to the individual, is an exercise of Justice in the\nstrictest sense. Again, what the individual pays to the State because\nhe is legally bound to pay it, does not become the _State's own_ until\nafter payment. If he withhold it, though he do wrong, yet he is not\nsaid to be keeping any portion of the public property in his private\nhands: he only fails to make some of his private property public,\nwhich the law bids him abdicate and make over. If this be true of\nmoney and goods, it is still more evidently true of honour and\nservices. In like manner, in the matter of _distributive justice_, the\nemoluments which a subject has a claim to, the rewards which he has\nmerited of the State, does not become _his_ till he actually gets them\ninto his hands. It may be unfair and immoral that they are withheld\nfrom him, and in that case, so long as the circumstances remain the\nsame, the obligation rest with and presses upon the State, and those\nwho represent it, to satisfy his claim: still the State is not keeping\nthe individual from that which is as yet his own. In the language of\nthe Roman lawyers, he has at best a _jus ad rem_, a right that the\nthing be made his, but not a _jus in re_; that is, the thing is not\nproperly his before he actually gets it.\n\n6. _Commutative justice_ alone is Justice strictly so called: for\ntherein alone the parties to the act are perfectly other and other,\nand the matter that passes between them, if withheld by one of the\nparties, would make a case of keeping the other out of that which he\ncould still properly call by right his own. _Commutative justice_ runs\nbetween two individuals, or two independent States, or between the\nState and an individual inasmuch as the latter is an independent\nperson, having rights of his own against the former. This justice is\ncalled _commutative_, from being concerned with _exchanges_, or\ncontracts, _voluntary_ and _involuntary_. The idea of voluntary\ncontract, like that between buyer and seller, is familiar enough. But\nthe notion of an _involuntary contract_ is technical, and requires\nexplanation. Whoever, then, wrongfully takes that which belongs to\nanother, enters into an involuntary contract, or makes an involuntary\nexchange, with the party. This he may do by taking away his property,\nhonour, reputation, liberty, or bodily ease and comfort. This is an\ninvoluntary transaction, against the will of the party that suffers.\nIt is a contract, because the party that does the damage takes upon\nhimself, whether he will or no, by the very act of doing it, the\nobligation of making the damage good, and of restoring what he has\ntaken away. This is the obligation of _restitution_, which attaches to\nbreaches of _commutative justice_, and, strictly speaking, to them\nalone. Thus, if a minister has not promoted a deserving officer in\nface of a clear obligation of _distributive justice_, the obligation\nindeed remains as that of a duty unfulfilled, so long as he remains\nminister with the patronage in his hands: but the promotion, if he\nfinally makes it, is not an act of restitution: it is giving to the\nofficer that which was not his before. And if the opportunity has\npassed, he owes the officer nothing in compensation. But if he has\ninsulted the officer, he owes him an apology for all time to come: he\nmust give back that honour which belonged to the officer, and of which\nhe has robbed him. This is restitution. In a thousand practical cases\nit is important, and often a very nice question to decide, whether a\nparticular offence, such as failure to pay taxes, be a sin against\n_commutative justice_ or only against some more general form of the\nvirtue. If the former, restitution is due: if the latter, repentance\nonly and purpose of better things in future, but not reparation of the\npast.\n\n7. The old notion, that Justice is minding your own business, and\nleaving your neighbour to mind his, furnishes a good rough statement\nof the obligations of _commutative justice_. They are mainly negative,\nto leave your neighbour alone in his right of life and limb, of\nliberty and property, of honour and reputation. But in two ways your\nneighbour's business may become yours in justice. The first way is, if\nyou have any contract with him, whether a formal contract, as that\nbetween a railway company and its passengers, or a virtual contract,\nby reason of some office that you bear, as the office of a bishop and\npastor in relation to the souls of his flock. The second way in which\ncommutative justice binds you to positive action, is when undue damage\nis likely to occur to another from some activity of yours. If, passing\nby, I see my neighbour's house on fire, not having contracted to watch\nit for him, and not having caused the fire myself, I am not bound in\nstrict justice to warn him of his danger. I am bound indeed by\ncharity, but that is not the point here. But if the fire has broken\nout from my careless use of fire, _commutative justice_ binds me to\nraise the alarm.\n\n8. The most notable potential parts of Justice--Religion, Obedience,\nTruthfulness--enter into the treatise of Natural Law.\n\n_Readings_.--Ar., _Eth_., V., i.; Plato, _Rep_., 433 A; _ib_., 443 C,\nD, E; St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 58, art. 2, in corp; _ib_., q. 58, art. 5;\n_ib_., q. 58, art. 6, in corp; _ib_., q. 58, art. 7; _ib_., q. 58, art\n9, in corp.; _ib_., q. 61, art. 1, in corp.; _ib_., q. 61, art. 3, in\ncorp.; Ar., _Eth_., V., ii., 12, 13; St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 62, art. 1,\nin corp., ad 2.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nPART II. DEONTOLOGY.\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nOF THE ORIGIN OF MORAL OBLIGATION.\n\nSECTION I.--_Of the natural difference between Good and Evil_.\n\n\n1. A granite boulder lying on an upland moor stands indifferently the\nAugust sun and the January frost, flood and drought. It neither blooms\nin spring, nor fades in autumn. It is all one to the boulder whether\nit remain in the picturesque solitude where the glacier dropped it, or\nbe laid in the gutter of a busy street. It has no growth nor\ndevelopment: it is not a subject of evolution: there is no goal of\nperfection to which it is tending by dint of inward germinal capacity\nseconded by favourable environment. Therefore it does not matter what\nyou do with it: all things come alike to that lump of rock.\n\n2. But in a cranny or cleft of the same there is a little flower\ngrowing. You cannot do what you will with that flower. It has its\nexigencies and requirements. Had it a voice, it could say, what the\nstone never could: \"I must have this or that: I must have light, I\nmust have moisture, a certain heat, some soil to grow in.\" There is a\ncourse to be run by this flower and the plant that bears it, a\ndevelopment to be wrought out, a perfection to be achieved. For this\nend certain conditions are necessary, or helpful: certain others\nprejudicial, or altogether intolerable. In fact, that plant has a\n_progressive nature_, and therewith is a subject of good and evil.\nGood for that plant is what favours its natural progress, and evil is\nall that impedes it.\n\n3. All organic natures are progressive: that is, each individual of\nthem is apt to make a certain progress, under certain conditions, from\nbirth to maturity. But man alone has his progress in any degree in his\nown hands, to make or to mar. Man alone, in the graphic phrase of\nAppius Claudius, is _faber fortun\u00e6 su\u00e6_, \"the shaper of his own\ndestiny.\" Any other plant or animal, other than man, however miserable\na specimen of its kind it finally prove to be, has always done the\nbest for itself under the circumstances: it has attained the limit\nfixed for it by its primitive germinal capacity, as modified by the\nevents of its subsequent environment. The miserable animal that howls\nunder your window at night, is the finest dog that could possibly have\ncome of his blood and breeding, nurture and education. But there is no\nman now on earth that has done all for himself that he might have\ndone. We all fall short in many things of the perfection that is\nwithin our reach. Man therefore needs to stir himself, and to be\nenergetic with a free, self-determined energy to come up to the\nstandard of humanity. It is only his free acts that are considered by\nthe moralist. Such is the definition of Moral Science, that it deals\nwith _human acts_; acts, that is, whereof man is master to do or not\nto do. (c. i., nn. 1, 2.)\n\n4. We have it, then, that a morally good act is an act that makes\ntowards the progress of human nature in him who does it, and which is\nfreely done. Similarly, a morally evil act is a bar to progress, or a\ndiversion of it from the right line, being also a free act. Now, that\nact only can make for the progress of human nature, which befits and\nsuits human nature, and suits it in its best and most distinctive\ncharacteristic. What is best in man, what characterises and makes man,\nwhat the old schoolmen called the _form_ of man, is his reason. To be\nup to reason is to be up to the standard of humanity. Human progress\nis progress on the lines of reason. To make for that progress, and\nthereby to be morally good, an act must be done, not blindly,\nbrutishly, sottishly, or on any impulse of passion, however beneficial\nin its effects, but deliberately, and in conscious accordance with the\nreasonable nature of the doer.\n\n5. Whatever be man's end and highest good, he must go about to compass\nit reasonably. He must plan, and be systematic, and act on principle.\nFor instance, if the public health be the highest good, the laws which\ngovern it must be investigated, and their requirements carried out,\nwithout regard to sentiment. If pleasure be the good, we must be\nartists of pleasure. If, however, as has been seen (c. ii.) the\nhighest good of man is the highest play of reason herself in a life of\ncontemplation, to be prepared for, though it cannot be adequately and\nworthily lived, in this world, then it is through following reason,\nthrough subjecting appetite to reason by temperance, and the will to\nreason by justice, and reason herself by a \"reasonable service\" to\nGod, that this end and consummation must be wrought out. Thus, in\nPlato's phrase (_Rep._, 589 B), the moral man acts so that \"the inner\nman within him, the rational part of his nature, shall be strongest;\nwhile he watches with a husbandman's care over the many-headed beast\nof appetite, rearing and training the creature's tame heads, and not\nletting the wild ones grow; for this purpose making an ally of the\nlion, the irascible part of his nature, and caring for all the parts\nin common, making them friends to one another and to himself.\" In this\nway he will meet the true exigency of his nature _as a whole_, with\ndue regard to the proper order and subordination of the parts. He who\nlives otherwise, acts in contradiction to his rational self. (c. v.,\ns. iii., n. 3, p. 74).\n\n6. The result of the above reasoning, if result it has, should be to\nexplain and justify the Stoic rule, _naturae convenienter vivere_, to\nlive according to nature. But some one will say: \"That is the very\nideal of wickedness: all good in man comes of overcoming nature, and\ndoing violence to natural cravings: live according to nature, and you\nwill go straight to the devil.\" I answer: \"Live _according to a part\nof your nature_, and that the baser and lower, though also the more\nimpetuous and clamorous part, and you will certainly go where you say:\nbut live _up to the whole of your nature_, as explained in the last\nparagraph, and you will be a man indeed, and will reach the goal of\nhuman happiness.\" But again it may be objected, that our very reason,\nto which the rest of our nature is naturally subordinate, frequently\nprompts us to do amiss. The objection is a just one, in so far as it\ngoes upon a repudiation of the old Platonic position, that all moral\nevil comes of the body, wherein the soul is imprisoned, and of the\ndesires which the body fastens upon the soul. Were that so, all sins\nwould be sins of sensuality. But there are spiritual sins, not\nprompted by any lust or weakness of the body, as pride and mutiny,\nself-opinionatedness, rejection of Divine revelation. The objection\nturns on sins such as these. The answer is, that spiritual sins do not\narise from any exigency of reason, but from a deficiency of reason;\nnot from that faculty calling upon us, as we are reasonable men, to\ntake a certain course, in accordance with a just and full view of the\nfacts of the case, but from reason failing to look facts fully in the\nface, and considering only some of them to the neglect of others, the\nconsideration of which would alter the decision. Thus a certain proud\ncreature mentioned in Scripture thought of the magnificence of the\nthrone above the stars of God, on the mountain of the covenant, on the\nsides of the north: he did not think how such a pre-eminence would\nbecome him as a creature. He had in view a rational good certainly,\nbut not a rational good for him. Partial reason, like a little\nknowledge, is a dangerous thing.\n\n7. As it is not in the power of God to bring it about, that the angles\nof a triangle taken together shall amount to anything else than two\nright angles, so it is not within the compass of Divine omnipotence to\ncreate a man for whom it shall be a good and proper thing, and\nbefitting his nature, to blaspheme, to perjure himself, to abandon\nhimself recklessly to lust, or anger, or any other passion. God need\nnot have created man at all, but He could not have created him with\nother than human exigencies. The reason is, because God can only\ncreate upon the pattern of His own essence, which is imitable, outside\nof God, in certain definite lines of possibility. These possibilities,\nfounded upon the Divine essence and discerned by the Divine\nintelligence, are the Archetype Ideas, among which the Divine will has\nto choose, when it proceeds to create. The denial of this doctrine in\nthe Nominalist and Cartesian Schools, and their reference to the\narbitrary will of God of the eternal, immutable, and absolutely\nnecessary relations of possible things, is the subversion of all\nscience and philosophy.\n\n8. Still less are moral distinctions between good and evil to be set\ndown to the law of the State, or the fashion of society. Human\nconvention can no more constitute moral good than it can physical\ngood, or mathematical or logical truth. It is only in cases where two\nor more courses are tolerable, and one of them needs to be chosen and\nadhered to for the sake of social order, that human authority steps in\nto elect and prescribe one of those ways of action, and brand the\nothers as illegitimate, which would otherwise be lawful. This is\ncalled the making of a _positive law_.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 18, art. 5, in corp.; 1a 2\u00e6, q. 71,\nart. 2; Plato, _Rep_., 588 B to end of bk. ix.; Ar., _Eth_., IX., iv.,\nnn. 4-10; Suarez, _De Legibus_, II., vi., nn. 4, 11; Cicero, _De\nLegibus_, i., cc. 15-17.\n\n\nSECTION II.--_How Good becomes bounden Duty, and\nEvil is advanced to Sin_.\n\n\n1. The great problem of Moral Philosophy is the explanation of the\nidea, _I ought_, (c. i., n. 6). We are now come close up to the\nsolution of that problem. The word _ought_ denotes the necessary\nbearing of means upon end. To every _ought_ there is a pendent _if_.\nThe means _ought_ to be taken, _if_ the end is to be secured. Thus we\nsay: \"You _ought_ to start betimes, _if_ you are to catch your train.\"\n\"You _ought_ to study harder, _if_ you are to pass your examination.\"\nThe person spoken to might reply: \"But what if I do miss my train, and\nfail in my examination?\" He might be met with another _ought_: \"You\n_ought_ not to miss the one, _if_ you are to keep your appointment: or\nto fail in the other, _if_ you are to get into a profession.\" Thus the\ntrain of _oughts_ and _ifs_ extends, until we come finally to a\nconcatenation like the following: \"You _ought_ not to break your word,\nor to give needless pain to your parents, _if_ you don't want to do\nviolence to that nature which is yours as a reasonable being,\" or \"to\nthwart your own moral development,\"--and so on in a variety of phrases\ndescriptive of the argument of the last section. Here it seems the\nchain is made fast to a staple in the wall. If a person goes on to\nask, \"Well, what if I do contradict my rational self?\" we can only\ntell him that he is a fool for his question. The _oughts_, such as\nthose wherewith our illustration commenced, Kant calls the\n_hypothetical imperative_, the form being, \"You must, unless:\" but the\n_ought_ wherein it terminated, he calls the _categorical imperative_,\nthe alternative being such as no rational man can accept, and\ntherefore no alternative at all.\n\n2. This doctrine of the Categorical Imperative is correct and valuable\nso far as it goes. But then it does not go far enough. The full notion\nof what a man _ought_, is what he _must do under pain of sin_. Sin is\nmore than folly, more than a breach of reason. It is mild reproach to\na great criminal to tell him that he is a very foolish person, a\nwalking unreasonableness. If he chooses to contradict his rational\nself, is not that his own affair? Is he not his own master, and may he\nnot play the fool if he likes? The answer is, \"No, he is not his own\nmaster; he is under law, and his folly and self-abuse becomes criminal\nand sinful, by being in contravention of the law that forbids him to\nthrow himself away thus wantonly.\"\n\n3. Kant readily takes up this idea, shaping it after his own fashion.\nHe contends,--and herein his doctrine is not merely deficient, but\npositively in error,--that the Categorical Imperative, uttered by a\nman's own reason, has the force of a law, made by that same reason; so\nthat the legislative authority is within the breast of the doer, who\nowes it obedience. This he calls the _autonomy of reason_. It is also\ncalled Independent Morality, inasmuch as it establishes right and\nwrong without regard to external authority, or to the consequences of\nactions, or to rewards and punishments. The doctrine is erroneous,\ninasmuch as it undertakes to settle the matter of right and wrong\nwithout reference to external authority; and inasmuch as it makes the\nreason within a man, not the promulgator of the law to him, but his\nown legislator. For a law is a precept, a command: now no one issues\nprecepts, or gives commands, to himself. To command is an act of\njurisdiction; and jurisdiction, like justice (see c. v., s. ix., n. 1,\np. 102) requires a distinction of persons, one ruler, and another\nsubject. But the reason in a man is not a distinct subject from the\nwill, appetites, or other faculties within him, to which reason\ndictates: they are all one nature, one person, one man; consequently,\nno one of them can strictly be said to command the rest; and the\ndictate of reason, as emanating from within oneself, is not a law. But\nwithout a law, there is no strict obligation. Therefore the whole\ntheory of obligation is not locked up in the Categorical Imperative,\nas Kant formulated it.\n\n4. The above argumentation evinces that God is not under any law; for\nthere is no other God above Him to command Him. As for the ideas of\nwhat is meet and just in the Divine intelligence, though the Divine\nwill, being a perfect will, is not liable to act against them, yet are\nthose ideas improperly called a law to the Divine will, because\nintellect and will are identified in one God. Kant's doctrine makes us\nall gods. It is a deification of the human intellect, and\nidentification of that intellect with the supreme and universal\nReason; and at the same time a release of the human will from all\nauthority extraneous to the individual. This amounts to a putting off\nof all authority properly so called, and makes each man as sovereign\nand unaccountable as his Maker. \"Thy heart is lifted up, and thou hast\nsaid: I am God, and sit in the chair of God: and hast set thy heart as\nif it were the heart of God: whereas thou art a man and not God.\"\n(Ezech. xxviii. 2.) Kant is thus the father of the pantheistic school\nof Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel.\n\n5. But it has been contended that this phrase about a man who does\nwrong _breaking a law_, is only a metaphor and figure of speech,\nunless it be used with reference to the enactment of some civil\ncommunity. Thus John Austin says that a _natural law_ is a law which\nis not, but which he who uses the expression thinks ought to be made.\nAt this rate _sin_ is not a transgression of any law, except so far as\nit happens to be, in the lawyer's sense of the word, a _crime_, or\nsomething punishable in a human court of justice. There will then be\nno law but man's law. How then am I _obliged_ to obey man's law? Dr.\nBain answers: \"Because, if you disobey, you will be _punished_.\" But\nthat punishment will be either just or unjust: if unjust, it\noriginates no obligation: if just, it presupposes an obligation, as it\npresupposes a crime and sin, that is, an obligation violated. There\nseems to be nothing left for John Austin but to fall back upon Kant\nand his Categorical Imperative, and say that whoever rebels against\nthe duly constituted authority of the State in which he lives, is a\nrebel against the reason that dwells within his own breast, and which\nrequires him to behave like a citizen. So that ultimately it is not\nthe State, but his own reason that he has offended; and the State has\nno authority over him except what his own reason gives.\n\n6. If this were true, there would be no sin anywhere except what is\ncalled _philosophical sin_, that is, a breach of the dignity of man's\nrational nature; and the hardest thing that could be said in\nreprobation of a wrongdoer, would be that he had gone against himself,\nand against his fellow-men, by outraging reason, the common attribute\nof the race.\n\n7. Far worse than that has the sinner done. He has offended against\nhis own reason, and thereby against a higher Reason, substantially\ndistinct from his, standing to it in the relation of Archetype to\ntype, a Living Reason, [Greek: hepsychos logos] (cf. Ar., _Eth_., V.,\niv., 7), purely and supremely rational. The Archetype is outraged by\nthe violation of the type. Moreover, as the two are substantially\ndistinct, the one being God, the other a faculty of man, there is room\nfor a command, for law. A man may transgress and sin, in more than the\n_philosophical_ sense of the word: he may be properly a _law-breaker_,\nby offending against this supreme Reason, higher and other than his\nown.\n\n8. Here we must pause and meditate a parable.--There was a certain\nmonastery where the monks lived in continual violation of monastic\nobservance. Their Abbot was a holy man, a model of what a monk ought\nto be. But though perfectly cognisant of the delinquencies of his\ncommunity, he was content to display to his subjects the edifying\nexample of his own life, and to let it appear that he was aware of\ntheir doings and pained at them. He would croon softly as he went\nabout the house old Hell's words: \"Not so, my sons, not so: why do ye\nthese kind of things, very wicked things?\" But the monks took no\nnotice of him. It happened in course of time that the Abbot went away\nfor about ten days. What he did in that time, never transpired: though\nthere was some whisper of certain \"spiritual exercises,\" which he was\nsaid to have been engaged in. Certain it is, that he returned to his\nmonastery, as he left it, a monk devout and regular: the monk was the\nsame, but the Abbot was mightily altered. The morning after his\narrival, a Chapter was held; the Abbot had the Rule read from cover to\ncover, and announced his intention of enforcing the same. And he was\nas good as his word. Transgressions of course abounded: but the monks\ndiscovered that to transgress was quite a different thing now from\nwhat it had been. Seeing the law proclaimed, and the Abbot in earnest\nto enforce it, they too reformed themselves: the few who would not\nreform had to leave. The subsequent holy lives of those monks do not\nenter into this history.\n\n9. Now, we might fancy God our Lord like the Abbot of that monastery\nin the early years of his rule. We might fancy the Supreme Reason,\ndispleased indeed, as Reason must be, at the excesses and follies of\nmankind, but not otherwise commanding men to avoid those evil courses.\nWere God to be thus quiescent, what we have called (n. 6)\n_philosophical sin_, would indeed carry this additional malice, beyond\nwhat was there set down, of being an offence against God, but it would\nnot be a grievous offence: for it would not be a sin in the proper\nsense of the term, not being a transgression of the law of God,\ninasmuch as God, by the supposition, would have given no law. But the\nsupposition itself is absurd. God could not so withhold His command.\nHe is free indeed not to command, but that only by not creating. If He\nwills to have creatures, He must likewise will to bind them to certain\nlines of action: which will to bind in God is a law to the creature.\n\n10. This assertion, that _God cannot but will to bind His creatures to\ncertain lines of action_, must be proved, though in the ascent we have\nto mount to high regions, and breathe those subtle airs that are\nwafted round the throne of the Eternal. As God is the one source of\nall reality and of all power, not only can there be no being which He\nhas not created and does not still preserve, but no action either can\ntake place without His concurrence. God must go with His every\ncreature in its every act: otherwise, on the creature's part, nothing\ncould be done. Now, God cannot be indifferent what manner of act He\nshall concur unto. A servant or a subject may be indifferent what\ncommand he receives: he may will simply to obey,--to go here or there,\nas he is bid, or to be left without orders where he is. That is\nbecause he leaves the entire direction and management of the household\nto his master. But for God to be thus indifferent what action He\nshould lend His concurrence to, would be to forego all design and\npurpose of His own as to the use and destiny of the creatures which He\nhas made and continually preserves. This God cannot do, for He cannot\nact aimlessly. It would be renouncing the direction of His own work,\nand making the creature His superior. God is incapable of such\nrenunciation and subservience. He must, then, will the cooperation\nwhich He lends, and the concurrent action of the creature, to take a\ncertain course, regulated and prescribed by Himself: which is our\nproposition, that God cannot but will to bind His creatures to certain\nlines of action. If His free creatures choose to stray from these\nlines, God indeed still cooperates, and to His cooperation is to be\nascribed the _physical goodness_ of the action, not its _moral\ninordinateness and inopportuneness_. Still, as the action is morally\ninordinate, God may be said to cooperate, in a manner, where He would\nnot: whence we gather some conception of the enormity of sin. (See c.\nvii., nn. 5, 6, pp. 130, 131.)\n\n11. The lines of action laid down and prescribed by God are not\narbitrary and irrespective of the subject of the command. They are\ndetermined in each case by the nature of the subject. The Author of\nNature is not apt to subvert that order which proceeds from Himself.\nHe bids every creature act up to that nature wherein He has created\nit. His commands follow the line of natural exigency. What this\nnatural exigency amounts to in man in regard to his human acts, we\nhave already seen, (c. vi., s. i., p. 109.)\n\n12. The difference between a necessary and a free agent is, that the\nformer is determined by its nature to act in a certain way, and cannot\nact otherwise: the latter may act in more ways than one. Still, as we\nhave seen, the nature even of a free agent is not indifferent to all\nmanner of action. It requires, though it does not constrain, the agent\nto act in certain definite ways, the ways of moral goodness. Acting\notherwise, as he may do, the free agent gainsays his own nature, taken\nas a whole, a thing that a necessary agent can nowise do. God\ntherefore who, as we have shown, wills and commands all creatures\nwhatsoever to act on the lines of their nature, has especial reason to\ngive this command to His rational creatures, with whom alone rests the\nmomentous freedom to disobey.\n\n13. We are now abreast of the question, of such burning interest in\nthese days, as to the connection of Ethics with Theology, or of\nMorality with Religion. I will not enquire whether the dogmatic\natheist is logically consistent in maintaining any distinction between\nright and wrong: happily, dogmatic atheists do not abound. But there\nare many who hold that, whether there be a God or no, the fact ought\nnot to be imported into Moral Science: that a Professor of Ethics, as\nsuch, has no business with the name of the Almighty on his lips, any\nmore than a lecturer on Chemistry or Fortification. This statement\nmust be at once qualified by an important proviso. If we have any\nduties of worship and praise towards our Maker: if there is such a\nvirtue as religion, and such a sin as blasphemy: surely a Professor of\nMorals must point that out. He cannot in that case suppress all\nreference to God, for the same reason that he cannot help going into\nthe duties of a man to his wife, or of an individual to the State, if\nmarriage and civil government are natural institutions. If there is a\nGod to be worshipped, any book on Moral Science is incomplete without\na chapter on Religion. But the question remains, whether the name of\nGod should enter into the other chapters, and His being and authority\ninto the very foundations of the science. I do not mean the\nmetaphysical foundations; for Metaphysics are like a two-edged sword,\nthat cleaves down to the very marrow of things, and must therefore\nreveal and discover God. But Morality, like Mathematics, takes certain\nmetaphysical foundations for granted, without enquiring into them. On\nthese foundations we rear the walls, so to speak, of the science of\nEthics without reference to God, but we cannot put the roof and crown\nupon the erection, unless we speak of Him and of His law. Moral\ndistinctions, as we saw (c. vi., s. i. n. 7, p. 113), are antecedent\nto the Divine command to observe them: and though they rest ultimately\non the Divine nature, that ultimate ground belongs to Metaphysics, not\nto Ethics. Ethics begins with human nature, pointing out that there\nare certain human acts that do become a man, and others that do not.\n(c. vi., s. i., p. 109.) To see this, it is not necessary to look up\nabove man. Thus we shall prove lying, suicide, and murder to be wrong,\nand good fellowship a duty, without needing to mention the Divine\nBeing, though by considering Him the proof gains in cogency. Or\nrather, apart from God we shall prove certain acts wrong, and other\nacts obligatory as duties, _philosophically_ speaking, with an initial\nand fundamental wrongness and obligation. In the present section we\nhave proved once for all, that what is wrong philosophically, or is\nphilosophically a duty, is the same also _theologically_. Thus the\ninitial and fundamental obligation is transformed into an obligation\nformal and complete. Therefore, hereafter we shall be content to have\nestablished the philosophical obligation, knowing that the theological\nside is invariably conjoined therewith. As St. Thomas says (1a 2\u00e6, q.\n71, art. 6, ad 5): \"By theologians sin is considered principally as it\nis an offence against God: but by the moral philosopher, inasmuch as\nit is contrary to reason.\" But what is contrary to reason offends God,\nand is forbidden by Divine law, and thus becomes a _sin_. No God, no\nsin. Away from God, there is _indecency_ and _impropriety,\nunreasonableness, abomination_, and _brutality_, all this in view of\noutraged humanity: there is likewise _crime_ against the State: but\nthe formal element of _sin_ is wanting. With sin, of course,\ndisappears also the punishment of sin as such. Thus to leave God\nwholly out of Ethics and Natural Law, is to rob moral evil of half its\nterrors, and of that very half which is more easily \"understanded of\nthe people.\" A consideration for school-managers.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a, q. 22, art. 2, in corp. (against\nLucretius, ii. 646-651); Suarez, _De Legibus_, II., vi., nn. 3, 5-9,\n13, 14, 17, 20-24.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nOF THE ETERNAL LAW.\n\n\n1. A law is defined to be: A precept just and abiding, given for\npromulgation to a perfect community. A law is primarily a rule of\naction. The first attribute of a law is that it be _just_: just to the\nsubject on whom it is imposed, as being no harmful abridgment of his\nrights: just also to other men, as not moving him to injustice against\nthem. An unjust law is no law at all, for it is not a rule of action.\nStill, we may sometimes be bound, when only our own rights are\ninfringed, to submit to such an imposition, not as a law, for it is\nnone, but on the score of prudence, to escape direr evils. A law is no\nfleeting, occasional rule of conduct, suited to meet some passing\nemergency or superficial disturbance. The reason of a law lies deep\ndown, lasting and widespread in the nature of the governed. A law,\nthen, has these two further attributes of permanence in duration and\namplitude in area. Every law is made for all time, and lives on with\nthe life of the community for whom it is enacted, for ever, unless it\nbe either expressly or implicitly repealed. A law in a community is\nlike a habit in an individual, an accretion to nature, which abides as\npart of the natural being, and guides henceforth the course of natural\naction. This analogy holds especially of those laws, which are not\nenacted all of a sudden--and such are rarely the best laws--but grow\nupon the people with gradual growth unmarked, like a habit by the\nrepetition of acts, in the way of immemorial custom. I have said that\na law is for a community, that it requires amplitude and large area. A\nlaw is not laid down for an individual, except so far as his action is\nof importance to the community. The private concerns of one man do not\nafford scope and room enough for a law. Neither do the domestic\naffairs of one family. A father is not a legislator. A law aims at a\ndeep, far-reaching, primary good. But the private good of an\nindividual, and the domestic good of a family, are not primary goods,\ninasmuch as the individual and the family are not primary but\nsubordinate beings: not complete and independent, but dependent and\npartial; not wholes but parts. The individual is part of the family,\nand the family is part of a higher community. It is only when we are\ncome to some community which is not part of any higher, that we have\nfound the being, the good of which is primary good, the aim of law.\nSuch a community, not being part of any higher community in the same\norder, is in its own order a perfect community. Thus, in the temporal\norder, the individual is part of the State. The State is a perfect\ncommunity; and the good of the State is of more consequence than the\ntemporal well-being of any individual citizen. The temporal good of\nthe individual, then, is matter of law, in so far as it is subservient\nto the good of the State. We have, then, to hold that a law is given\nto the members of a perfect community for the good of the whole. Not\nevery precept, therefore, is a law: nor every superior a lawgiver: for\nit is not every superior that has charge of the good of a perfect\ncommunity. Many a precept is given to an individual, either for his\nprivate good, as when a father commands his child, or for the private\ngood of him that issues the precept, as when a master commands a\nservant. But every law is a precept: for a law is an imperative rule\nof action, in view of a good that is necessary, at least with the\nnecessity of convenience. To every law there are counsels attached. A\nlaw may be said to be a _nucleus_ of precept, having an _envelope_ of\ncounsel. Every law has also a pendent called punishment for those who\nbreak it: this is called the _sanction_ of the law. A law is also for\n_promulgation_, as a birch rod for _application_. The promulgation, or\napplication, brings the law home to the subject, but is not part of\nthe law itself. So much for the definition of Law.\n\n2. We have to learn to look upon the whole created universe, and the\nfulness thereof, angels, men, earth, sun, planets, fixed stars, all\nthings visible and invisible, as one great and perfect community,\nwhose King and Lawgiver is God. He is King, because He is Creator and\nLord. But lordship and kingship are different things, even in God. It\nis one thing to be lord and master, owner and proprietor of a chattel,\nproperty and domain: it is another thing to be king and governor,\nlawgiver and judge of political subjects. The former is called _power\nof dominion_, or right of ownership, the latter is _power of\njurisdiction_. Power of dominion is for the good of him who wields it:\nbut power of jurisdiction is for the good of the governed. As God is\nLord of the universe, He directs all its operations to His own glory.\nAs He is King, He governs as a king should govern, for the good of His\nsubjects. In intellectual creatures, whose will is not set in\nopposition to God, the subject's good and the glory of the Lord\nfinally coincide. God's power of dominion is the concern of\ntheologians: the moralist is taken up with His power of jurisdiction,\nfrom whence emanates the moral law.\n\n3. In the last chapter (s. ii., nn. 9, 10, pp. 120, 121), we stated\nthe moral law in these terms, that _God wills to bind His creatures to\ncertain lines of action_, not arbitrary lines, as we saw, but the\nnatural lines of each creature's being. The law thus stated takes in\nmanifestly a wider field than that of moral action. There is in fact\nno action of created things that is not comprehended under this\nstatement. It comprises the laws of physical nature and the action of\nphysical causes, no less than the moral law and human acts. It is the\none primeval law of the universe, antecedent to all actual creation,\nand co-eternal with God. And yet not necessary as God: for had God not\ndecreed from all eternity to create--and He need not have decreed\nit--neither would He have passed in His own Divine Mind this second\ndecree, necessarily consequent as it is upon the decree of creation,\nnamely, that every creature should act in the mode of action proper of\nits kind. This decree, supervening from eternity upon the creative\ndecree, is called the Eternal Law.\n\n4. This law does not govern the acts of God Himself. God ever does\nwhat is wise and good, not because He binds Himself by the decree of\nHis own will so to act, but because of His all-perfect nature. His own\ndecrees have not for Him the force of a precept: that is impossible in\nany case: yet He cannot act against them, as His nature allows not of\nirresolution, change of mind, and inconsistency.\n\n5. Emanating from the will of God, and resting upon the nature of the\ncreature, it would seem that the Eternal Law must be irresistible.\n\"Who resisteth His will?\" asks the Apostle. (Rom. ix. 19.) \"The\nstreams of sacred rivers are flowing upwards, and justice and the\nuniversal order is wrenched back.\" (Euripides, _Medea_, 499.) It is\nonly the perversion spoken of by the poet, that can anywise supply the\ninstance asked for by the Apostle. The thing is impossible in the\nphysical order. The rivers cannot flow upwards, under the conditions\nunder which rivers usually flow: but justice and purity, truth and\nreligion may be wrenched back, in violation of nature and of the law\neternal. The one thing that breaks this law is sin. Sin alone is\nproperly unnatural. The world is full of physical evils, pain, famine,\nblindness, disease, decay and death. But herein is nothing against\nnature: the several agents act up to their nature, so far as it goes:\nit is the defect of nature that makes the evil. But sin is no mere\nshortcoming: it is a turning round and going against nature, as though\nthe July sun should freeze a man, or the summer air suffocate him.\nPhysical evil comes by the defect of nature, and by permission of the\nEternal Law. But the moral evil of sin is a breach of that law.\n\n6. A great point with modern thinkers is the inviolability of the laws\nof physical nature, _e.g_., of gravitation or of electrical induction.\nIf these laws are represented, as J. S. Mill said they should be, as\n_tendencies_ only, they are truly inviolable. The law of gravitation\nis equally fulfilled in a falling body, in a body suspended by a\nstring, and in a body borne up by the ministry of an angel. There is\nno law of nature to the effect that a supernatural force shall never\nintervene. Even if, as may be done perhaps in the greatest miracles,\nGod suspends His concurrence, so that the creature acts not at all,\neven that would be no violation of the physical law of the creature's\naction: for all that such a law provides is, that the creature, if it\nacts at all, shall act in a certain way, not that God shall always\ngive the concurrence which is the necessary condition of its acting at\nall. The laws of physical nature then are, strictly speaking, never\nviolated, although the _course_ of nature is occasionally altered by\nsupernatural interference, and continually by free human volition. But\nthe laws of physical nature, in the highest generality, are identified\nwith the moral law. The one Eternal Law embraces all the laws of\ncreation. It has a physical and a moral side. On the former it\n_effects_, on the latter it _obliges_, but on both sides it is\nimperative; and though in moral matters it be temporarily defeated by\nsin, still the moral behest must in the end be fulfilled as surely as\nthe physical behest. The defeat of the law must be made good, the sin\nmust be punished. Of the Eternal Law working itself out in the form of\npunishment, we shall speak presently.\n\n7. It is important to hold this conception of the Eternal Law as\nembracing physical nature along with rational agents. To confine the\nlaw, as modern writers do, to rational agents alone, is sadly to\nabridge the view of its binding force. The rigid application of\nphysical laws is brought home to us daily by science and by\nexperience: it is a point gained, to come to understand that the moral\nlaw, being ultimately one with those physical laws, is no less\nabsolute and indefeasible, though in a different manner, than they.\n\nIt is hard for us to conceive of laws being given to senseless things.\nWe cannot ourselves prescribe to iron or to sulphur the manner of its\naction. As Bacon says (_Novum Organum_, i., Aphorism 4): \"Man can only\nput natural bodies together or asunder: nature does the rest within.\"\nThat is, man cannot make the laws of nature: he can only arrange\ncollocations of materials so as to avail himself of those laws. But\nGod makes the law, issuing His command, the warrant without which no\ncreature could do anything, that every creature, rational and\nirrational, shall act each according to its kind or nature. Such is\nthe Eternal Law.\n\n_Readings_.--Suarez, _De Legibus_, I., xii.; St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 90,\nart. 2-4; _ib_., q. 91, art. 1, in corp., ad 1; _ib_., q. 93, art. 1,\nin corp.; _ib_., q. 93, art. 4, in corp.; _ib_., q. 93, art. 5, in\ncorp.; _ib_., q. 93, art. 6, in corp.; Suarez, _De Legibus_, II., vi.;\nCicero, _De Legibus_, II., iv.; _id_., _De Republica_, iii. 22.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nOF THE NATURAL LAW OF CONSCIENCE.\n\nSECTION I.--_Of the Origin of Primary Moral Judgments_.\n\n\n1. It is an axiom of the schools, that whatever is received, is\nreceived according to the manner of the recipient. We have spoken of\nthe law that governs the world, as that law has existed from eternity\nin the mind of God. We have now to consider that law as it is received\nin creatures, and becomes the inward determinant of their action.\nAction is either necessary or free. The great multitude of creatures\nare wholly necessary agents. Even in free agents, most of what is in\nthem, and much that proceeds from them, is of necessity, and beyond\nthe control of their will. Of necessary action, whether material or\nmental, we shall have nothing further to say. It is governed by the\nEternal Law, but it is not matter of moral philosophy. Henceforth we\nhave to do with that law, only as it is received in free agents, as\nsuch, to be the rule of their conduct. The agents being free, the law\nmust be received in a manner consonant with their freedom. It is\nproper to a free and rational being to guide itself, not to be dragged\nor pushed, but to go its own way, yet not arbitrarily, but according\nto law. The law for such a creature must be, not a physical\ndeterminant of its action, but a law operating in the manner of a\nmotive to the will, obliging and binding, yet not constraining it: a\nlaw written in the intellect after the manner of knowledge: a law\nwithin the mind and consciousness of the creature, whereby it shall\nmeasure and regulate its own behaviour. This is the _natural law of\nconscience_. It is the Eternal Law, as made known to the rational\ncreature, whereby to measure its own free acts. The Eternal Law is in\nthe Mind of God: the Natural Law in the minds of men and angels. The\nEternal Law adjusts all the operations of creatures: the Natural Law,\nonly the free acts of intellectual creatures. And yet, for binding\nforce, the Natural Law is one with the Eternal Law. On a summer\nevening one observes the sunset on the west coast; the heavens are all\naglow with the sun shining there, and the waters are aglow too,\nreflecting the sun's rays. The Eternal Law is as the sun there in the\nheavens, the Natural Law is like the reflection in the sea. But it is\none light.\n\n2. It is called the _Natural Law_, first, because it is found, more or\nless perfectly expressed, in all rational beings: now whatever is\nfound in all the individuals of a kind, is taken to belong to the\n_specific nature_, or type of that kind. Again it is called the\n_Natural Law_, because it is a thing which any rational nature must\nnecessarily compass and contain within itself in order to arrive at\nits own proper perfection and maturity. Thus this inner law is\nnatural, in the sense in which walking, speech, civilization are\nnatural to man. A man who has it not, is below the standard of his\nspecies. It will be seen that dancing, singing--at least to a pitch of\nprofessional excellence--and a knowledge of Greek, are not, in this\nsense, _natural_. The Natural Law is not _natural_, in the sense of\n\"coming natural,\" as provincial people say, or coming to be in man\nquite irrespectively of training and education, as comes the power of\nbreathing. It was absurd of Paley (_Mor. Phil._, bk. i., c. v.) to\nlook to the wild boy of Hanover, who had grown up in the woods by\nhimself, to display in his person either the Natural Law or any other\nattribute proper to a rational creature.\n\n3. We call this the _natural law of conscience_, because every\nindividual's conscience applies this law, as he understands it, to his\nown particular human acts, and judges of their morality accordingly.\nWhat then is conscience? It is not a faculty, not a habit, it is an\nact. It is a practical judgment of the understanding. It is virtually\nthe conclusion of a syllogism, the major premiss of which would be\nsome general principle of command or counsel in moral matters; the\nminor, a statement of fact bringing some particular case of your own\nconduct under that law; and the conclusion, which is conscience, a\ndecision of the case for yourself according to that principle: _e.g._,\n\"There is no obligation of going to church on (what Catholics call) a\n_day of devotion_: this day I am now living is only a day of devotion;\ntherefore I am not bound to go to church to-day.\" Such is the train of\nthought, not always so explicitly and formally developed, that passes\nthrough the mind, when conscience works. It is important to remember\nthat conscience is an act of intellect, a judgment, not on a matter of\ngeneral principle, not about other people's conduct, but about _my own\naction_ in some particular case, and the amount of moral praise or\nblame that I deserve, or should deserve, for it. As regards action\nalready done, or not done, conscience _testifies, accusing_ or\n_excusing_. As regards action contemplated, conscience _restrains_ or\n_prompts_, in the way of either obligation or counsel.\n\n4. Conscience is not infallible: it may err, like any other human\njudgment. A man may be blind, if not exactly to his own action, at\nleast to the motives and circumstances of his action. He may have got\nhold of a wrong general principle of conduct. He may be in error as to\nthe application of his principle to the actual facts. In all these\nways, what we may call the _conscientious syllogism_ may be at fault,\nlike any other syllogism. It may be a bad syllogism, either in logical\nform, or in the matter of fact asserted in the premisses. This is an\n_erroneous conscience_. But, for action contemplated, even an\nerroneous conscience is an authoritative decision. If it points to an\nobligation, however mistakenly, we are bound either to act upon the\njudgment or get it reversed. We must not contradict our own reason:\nsuch contradiction is moral evil, (c. v., s. iii., n. 3, p. 74.) If\nconscience by mistake sets us free of what is objectively our bounden\nduty, we are not there and then bound to that duty: but we may be\nbound at once to get that verdict of conscience overhauled and\nreconsidered. Conscience in this case has proceeded in ignorance,\nwhich ignorance will be either _vincible_ or _invincible_, and must be\ntreated according to the rules provided in the matter of _ignorance_,\n(c. iii., s. i., nn. 3-5, p. 27). An obligation, neglected in\ninvincible ignorance, makes a merely _material sin_. (c. iii., s. ii.,\nn. 7, p. 33.)\n\n5. There is another element of mind, often confounded under one name\nwith conscience, but distinct from it, as a habit from an act, and as\nprinciples from their application. This element the schoolmen called\n_synderesis_. [Footnote 10]\n\n[Footnote 10: On the derivation of this word, whether from [Greek:\nsynedaesis] or [Greek: syntaeresis], see _Athen\u00e6um_, 1877, vol. i.,\npp. 738, 798, vol. iii. pp. 16, 48.]\n\n_Synderesis_ is an habitual hold upon primary moral judgments, as,\nthat we must do good, avoid evil, requite benefactors, honour\nsuperiors, punish evil-doers. There is a hot controversy as to how\nthese primary moral judgments arise in the mind. The coals of dispute\nare kindled by the assumption, that these moral judgments must needs\nhave a totally other origin and birth in the mind than speculative\nfirst principles, as, that the whole is greater than the part, that\ntwo and two are four, that things which are equal to the same thing\nare equal to one another. The assumption is specious, but unfounded.\nIt looks plausible because of this difference, that moral judgments\nhave emotions to wait upon them, speculative judgments have not.\nSpeculative judgments pass like the philosophers that write them down,\nunheeded in the quiet of their studies. But moral judgments are rulers\nof the commonwealth: they are risen to as they go by, with majesty\npreceding and cares coming after. Their presence awakens in us certain\nemotions, conflicts of passion, as we think of the good that we should\ndo, but have not done, or of the evil that goes unremedied and\nunatoned for. Commonly a man cannot contemplate his duty, a difficult\nor an unfulfilled duty especially, without a certain emotion, very\notherwise than as he views the axioms of mathematics. There is a great\ndifference emotionally, but intellectually the two sets of principles,\nspeculative and moral, are held alike as necessary truths, truths that\nnot only are, but must be, and cannot be otherwise: truths in which\nthe _predicate_ of the proposition that states them is contained under\nthe _subject_. Such are called _self-evident propositions_; and the\ntruths that they express, _necessary truths_. The enquiry into the\norigin of our primary moral judgments is thus merged in the question,\nhow we attain to necessary truth.\n\n6. The question belongs to Psychology, not to Ethics: but we will\ntreat it briefly for ethical purposes. And first for a clear notion of\nthe kind of judgments that we are investigating.\n\n\"The primary precepts of the law of nature stand to the practical\nreason as the first principles of scientific demonstration do to the\nspeculative reason: for both sets of principles are self-evident. A\nthing is said to be self-evident in two ways, either _in itself_, or\n_in reference to us. _In itself_ every proposition, the predicate of\nwhich can be got from consideration of the subject is said to be\nself-evident. But it happens that to one who is ignorant of the\ndefinition of the subject, such a proposition will not be\nself-evident: as this proposition, _Man is a rational being_, is\nself-evident in its own nature, because to name man is to name\nsomething rational; and yet, to one ignorant what man is, this\nproposition is not self-evident. And hence it is that, as Boethius\nsays: \"there are some axioms self-evident to all alike.\" Of this\nnature are all those propositions whose terms are known to all, as,\n_Every whole is greater than its part_; and, _Things which are equal\nto the same thing are equal to one another_. Some propositions again\nare self-evident only to the wise, who understand the meaning of the\nterms: as, to one who understands that an angel is not a body, it is\nself-evident that an angel is not in a place by way of\ncircumscription; [Footnote 11] which is not manifest to others, who do\nnot understand the term.\" (St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6 q. 94, art. 2, in corp.)\n\n[Footnote 11: _Circumscriptive_, which word is explained by St. Thos.,\n1a, q. 52. art. 1.]\n\nOne more extract. \"From the very nature of an intellectual soul it is\nproper to man that, as soon as he knows what a whole is, and what a\npart is, he knows that every whole is greater than its part; and so of\nthe rest. But what is a whole, and what a part, that he cannot know\nexcept through sensory impressions. And therefore Aristotle shows that\nthe knowledge of principles comes to us through the senses.\" (St.\nThos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 51, art. 1, in corp.)\n\n7. Thus the propositions that _right is to be done, benefactors to be\nrequited_, are self-evident, necessary truths, to any child who has\nlearned by experience the meaning of _right_, of _kindness_, and of a\n_return of kindness._ \"Yes, but\"--some one will say--\"how ever does he\nget to know what _right_ and _wrong_ are? Surely sensory experience\ncannot teach him that.\" We answer, man's thoughts begin in sense, and\nare perfected by reflection. Let us take the idea of _wrong_, the key\nto all other elementary moral ideas. The steps by which a child comes\nto the fulness of the idea of _wrong_ may be these. First, the thing\nis _forbidden_: then one gets _punished_ for it. Punishment and\nprohibition enter in by eye and ear and other senses besides. Then the\nthing is _offensive_ to those we love and revere. Then it is _bad for\nus_. Then it is _shameful, shabby, unfair, unkind, selfish, hateful to\nGod_. All these points of the idea of wrong are grasped by the\nintellect, beginning with sensory presentations of what is seen and\nfelt and heard said. Again with the idea of _ought_. This idea is\nsometimes said to defy analysis. But we have gone about (c. vi.) to\nanalyse it into two elements, _nature requiring, nature's King\ncommanding_. The idea of _wrong_ we analysed into a breach of this\nnatural requirement, and this Divine command or law. Primary moral\nideas, then, yield to intellectual analysis. They are of this style:\n_to be done, as I wish to be rational and please God: not to be done,\nunless I wish to spoil myself and disobey my Maker_. But primary moral\nideas, compared together, make primary moral judgments. Primary moral\njudgments, therefore, arise in the intellect, by the same process as\nother beliefs arise there in matters of necessary truth.\n\n8. Thus, applying the principle known as _Occham's razor_, that\n\"entities are not to be multiplied without reason,\" we refuse to\nacknowledge any Moral Sense, distinct from Intellect. We know of no\npeculiar faculty, specially made to receive \"ideas, pleasures and\npains in the moral order.\" (Mackintosh, _Ethics_, p. 206.) Most of\nall, we emphatically protest against any blind power being accredited\nas the organ of morality. We cannot accept for our theory of morals,\nthat everything is right which warms the breast with a glow of\nenthusiasm, and all those actions wrong, at which emotional people are\nprone to cry out, _dreadful, shocking_. We cannot accept emotions for\narbitrators, where it most concerns reasonable beings to have what the\nApostle calls \"enlightened eyes of the heart\" (Ephes. i. 18), that we\nmay \"know to refuse the evil and to choose the good.\" (Isaias vii.\n15.) A judge may have his emotions, but his charge to the jury must be\ndictated, not by his heart, but by his knowledge of the law. And the\nvoice of conscience, whatever feelings it may stir, must be an\nintellectual utterance, and, to be worth anything in a case of\ndifficulty, a reasoned conclusion, based on observation of facts, and\napplication of principles, and consultation with moral theologians and\ncasuists. A subjective and emotional standard of right and wrong is as\ntreacherous and untrustworthy as the emotional justification of those\ngood people, who come of a sudden to \"feel converted.\"\n\n9. It would be unnecessary, except for the wrong-headedness of\nphilosophers, to observe that conscience requires educating. As moral\nvirtue is a habit of appetite, rational or irrational, a formation\nresulting from frequent acts; and as the child needs to be aided and\nassisted from without towards the performance of such acts, in order\nto overcome the frequent resistance of appetite to reason (c. v., s.\nii., n. 4, p. 71): so the springs of conscience are certain\nintellectual habits, whereby the subject is cognisant of the\nprinciples of natural law, and of their bearing on his own conduct,\nhabits which, like the habits of moral virtue, require to be formed by\nacts from within and succour from without, since merely the rudiments\nof the habit are supplied by nature. Even the first principles of\nmorality want formulating and pointing out to children, like the\naxioms of geometry. The mother tells her little one: \"Ernest, or\nFrank, be a good boy:\" while the schoolmaster explains to Master\nErnest that two straight lines cannot possibly enclose a space. There\nis something in the boy's mind that goes along with and bears out both\nthe teaching of his master and his mother's exhortation: something\nthat says within him: \"To be sure, those lines can't enclose a space:\"\n\"Certainly, I ought to be good.\" It is not merely on authority that he\naccepts these propositions. His own understanding welcomes and\napproves them: so much so, that once he has understood them, he would\nnot believe the contrary for being told it. You would not persuade a\nchild that it was right to pull mother's hair; or that half an orange\nwas literally, as Hesiod says, \"more than the whole.\" He would answer\nthat it could not be, that he knew better.\n\n10. On one ground there is greater need of education for the\nconscience than for any other intellectual formation: that is because\nof the power of evil to fascinate and blind on practical issues of\nduty. Cicero well puts it:\n\n\"We are amazed and perplexed by variety of opinions and strife of\nauthorities; and because there is not the same divergence upon matters\nof sense, we fancy that the senses afford natural certainty, while,\nfor moral matters, because some men take one view, some another, and\nthe same men different views at different times, we consider that any\nsettlement that can be arrived at is merely conventional, which is a\nhuge mistake. The fact is, there is no parent, nor nurse, nor\nschoolmaster, nor poet, nor stage play, to corrupt the judgments of\nsense, nor consent of the multitude to wrench them away from the\ntruth. It is for minds and consciences that all the snares are set, as\nwell by the agency of those whom I have just mentioned, who take us in\nour tender and inexperienced age, and ingrain and fashion us as they\nwill, as also by that counterfeit presentment of good, which lurks in\nthe folds of every sense, the mother of all evil, pleasure, under\nwhose seductive blandishments men fail to recognise the moral good\nthat nature offers, because it is unaccompanied by this itching desire\nand satisfaction.\" (Cicero, _De Legibus_, i, 17.)\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a, q. 79, art. 11-13; Plato, _Protagoras_,\n325, 326; John Grote, _Examination of Utilitarian Philosophy,_ pp.\n169, 207, 208; Cardinal Newman, _Grammar of Assent_, pp. l02-112.\n\n\nSECTION II.--_Of the invariability of Primary Moral Judgments_.\n\n\n1. The following narrative is taken from Grote's History of Greece, c.\n81.:\n\n\"It was a proud day for the Carthaginian general [Footnote 12] when he\nstood as master on the ground of Himera; enabled to fulfil the duty,\nand satisfy the exigencies, of revenge for his slain grandfather.\nTragical indeed was the consummation of this long-cherished\npurpose.... All the male captives, 3,000 in number, were conveyed to\nthe precise spot where Hamilkar had been slain, and there put to death\nwith indignity, as an expiatory satisfaction to his lost honour. No\nman can read the account of this wholesale massacre without horror and\nrepugnance. Yet we cannot doubt, that among all the acts of Hannibal's\nlife, this was the one in which he most gloried; that it realized in\nthe most complete and emphatic manner, his concurrent _aspirations of\nfilial sentiment, religious obligation, and honour as a patriot_;\n[Footnote 13] that to show mercy would have been regarded as a mean\ndereliction of these esteemed impulses.... Doubtless, the feelings of\nHannibal were cordially shared, and the plenitude of his revenge\nenvied, by the army around him. So different, sometimes so totally\ncontrary, is the tone and direction of the moral sentiments, among\ndifferent ages and nations.\"\n\n[Footnote 12: Hannibal, B.C. 409, therefore not the victor of Cannae.]\n[Footnote 13: Italics mine.]\n\nWe may supplement this story by another from Herodotus (iii., 38):\n\n\"Darius, after he had got the kingdom, called into his presence\ncertain Greeks who were at hand, and asked, 'What he should pay them\nto eat the bodies of their fathers when they died.' To which they\nanswered, that there was no sum that would tempt them to do such a\nthing. He then sent for certain Indians, of the race called\nCallatians, men who eat their fathers, and asked them, while the\nGreeks were standing by, and knew by the aid of an interpreter all\nthat was said--'What he should give them to burn the bodies of their\nfathers, at their decease?' The Indians exclaimed aloud, and bade him\nforbear such language. Such is the way of men; and Pindar was right in\nmy judgment, when he said, 'Convention is king over all.'\"\n\n2. If any one held that the natural law of conscience was natural in\nthe same way as the sense of temperature: if one held to the existence\nof a Moral Sense in all men, settling questions of right and wrong, as\nsurely as all men know sweet things from bitter by tasting them: these\nstories, and they could be multiplied by hundreds, abundantly suffice\nto confute the error. There is no authentic copy of the moral law,\nprinted, framed, and hung up by the hand of Nature, in the inner\nsanctuary of every human heart. Man has to learn his duties as he\nlearns the principles of health, the laws of mechanics, the\nconstruction and navigation of vessels, the theorems of geometry, or\nany other art or science. And he is just as likely to go wrong, and\nhas gone wrong as grievously, in his judgments on moral matters as on\nany other subject of human knowledge. The knowledge of duties is\n_natural_ (as explained in the previous section, n. 2), not because it\ncomes spontaneously, but because it is necessary to our nature for the\ndevelopment and perfection of the same. Thus a man _ought_, so far as\nhe can, to learn his duties: but we cannot say of a man, as such, that\nhe _ought_ to learn geometry or navigation. If a man does not know his\nduties, he is excused by ignorance, according to the rules under which\nignorance excuses (c. iii., s. i., nn. 3-5, p. 27). If a man does not\nknow navigation, there is no question of _excuse_ for what he was not\nbound to learn, but he may suffer _loss_ by his want of knowledge.\n\n3. It was furthermore observed above (l.c.), that the _natural_ law\nwas so called as being found expressed more or less perfectly in the\nminds of all men, and therefore being a proper element of human\nnature. It remains to see how much this universal natural expression\namounts to. That is at once apparent from our previous explanation of\n_synderesis_. (s. i., nn. 5, seq., p. 139.) Not a complete and\naccurate knowledge of the natural law is found in all minds, far from\nit; but _synderesis_ is found in all. This is apparent from Mr.\nGrote's own phrases, \"aspirations of filial sentiment,\" \"religious\nobligation,\" \"honour as a patriot,\" _Parents are to be honoured, we\nmust do our duty to God and to our country_: there Hannibal was at one\nwith the most approved teachers of morality. Callatian and Greek\nagreed in the recognition of the commandment, _Honour thy father and\nthy mother_. That was the major premiss of them both, in the moral\nsyllogism (s. i., n. 3, p. 135), which ruled their respective\nconsciences. Their difference was upon the _applying minor_, as it is\ncalled; the Greek regarding the dissolution of the body into its\nelements by fire, and so saving it from corruption, as the best means\nof honouring the dead: the Callatians preferring to raise their\nparents as it were to life again, by making them the food of their\nliving children. Hannibal, again, had before his mind the grand\nprinciple of retribution, that wrongdoing must be expiated by\nsuffering. But he had not heard the words \"Vengeance is Mine;\" and\nmistakenly supposed it to rest with himself to appoint and carry out\nhis own measure of revenge. Whether he was quite so invincibly\nignorant on this point, as Grote represents, is open to doubt. At any\nrate he was correct in the primary moral judgment on which he\nproceeded.\n\n_Reading_.--St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 94, art. 6.\n\n\nSECTION III.--_Of the immutability of the Natural Law_.\n\n\n1. Besides printing, many methods are now in vogue for multiplying\ncopies of a document. Commonly the document is written out with\nspecial ink on special paper: the copy thus used is called a\n_stencil_; and from it other copies are struck off. We will suppose\nthe stencil to be that page of the Eternal Law written in the Mind of\nGod, which regulates _human acts_, technically so called. The copies\nstruck off from that stencil will be the Natural Law in the mind of\nthis man and of that. Now, as all who are familiar with copying\nprocesses know too well, it happens at times that a copy comes out\nvery faint, and in parts not at all. These faint and partial copies\nrepresent the Natural Law as it is imperfectly developed in the minds\nof many men. In this sense, and as we may say _subjectively_, the\nNatural Law is mutable, very mutable indeed. Still, as no one would\nsay that the document had been altered, because some copies of it were\nbad, so it is not strictly correct to say that the Natural Law varies\nwith these subjective varieties. Appeal would be made to a full and\nperfectly printed impression of the document, one that rendered the\nstencil exactly. The Natural Law must be viewed in like manner, as it\nwould exist in a mind perfectly enlightened concerning the whole duty\nof man, and exactly reproducing in itself that portion of the Eternal\nLaw which ordains such duty. Were such a mind to discern a natural\nobligation to lie differently at two different times, all the relevant\ncircumstances being alike in both cases, and the moral solution\ndifferent, then only could the Natural Law be held to have changed.\n\n2. But this is clearly impossible. The conclusion of a geometrical\ntheorem is a truth for all time. There is no difference here between a\ncomplicated theorem, having many conditions, and a simpler theorem\nwith fewer. It is indeed easier for a few than for many conditions to\nbe all present together: but the enunciation of the conclusion\nsupposes _all_ the conditions, whatever their number. The same in a\npractical manner, as in the stability of a bridge. The bridge that\nwould stand in England, would stand in Ceylon. If it would not, there\nmust have occurred some change in the conditions, as the heat of the\ntropical sun upon the girders. A point of casuistry also, however\nknotty, once determined, is determined for ever and aye, for the\ncircumstances under which it was determined. The Natural Law in this\nsense is absolutely immutable, no less in each particular application\nthan in the most general principles. We must uniformly pass the same\njudgment on the same case. What is once right and reasonable, is\nalways right and reasonable, in the same matter. Where to-day there is\nonly one right course, there cannot to-morrow be two, unless\ncircumstances have altered. The Natural Law is thus far immutable,\nevery jot and tittle.\n\n3. No power in heaven above nor on earth beneath can dispense from any\nportion of the Natural Law. For the matter of the negative precepts of\nthat law is, as we have seen, something bad in itself and repugnant to\nhuman nature, and accordingly forbidden by God: while the matter of\nthe positive precepts is something good and necessary to man,\ncommanded by God. If God were to take off His command, or prohibition,\nthe intrinsic exigency, or intolerableness, of the thing to man would\nstill remain, being as inseparable from humanity as certain\nmathematical properties from a triangle. Pride is not made for man,\nnor fornication, nor lying, nor polygamy [Footnote 14]: human nature\nwould cry out against them, even were the Almighty in a particular\ninstance to withdraw His prohibition. What would be the use, then, of\nany such withdrawal? It would not make the evil thing good. An evil\nthing it would still remain, unnatural, irrational, and as such,\ndispleasing to God, the Supreme Reason. The man would not be free to\ndo the thing, even though God did not forbid it. It appears,\ntherefore, that the Divine prohibition, and similarly the Divine\ncommand, which we have proved (c. vi., s. ii., nn. 10, 11, p. 121) to\nbe necessarily imposed in matters of natural evil and of naturally\nimperative good, is imposed as a hard and fast line, so long as the\nintrinsic good or evil remains the same.\n\n[Footnote 14: There is a theological difficulty about the polygamy of\nthe patriarchs, which will be touched on in _Natural Law_, c. vi., s.\nii., n. 4. p. 272.]\n\n4. There is, therefore, no room for Evolution in Ethics and Natural\nLaw any more than in Geometry. One variety of geometrical\nconstruction, or of moral action, may succeed another; but the truths\nof the science, by which those varieties are judged, change not. There\nis indeed this peculiarity about morality, distinguishing it from art,\nthat if a man errs invincibly, the evil that he takes for good is not\n_formally_ evil, or evil as he wills it, and the good that he takes\nfor evil is _formally_ evil to him. (c. iii., s. ii., n. 7, p. 33.) So\nthere is variation and possible Evolution in bare _formal_ good and\nbare _formal_ evil, as ignorance gradually changes into knowledge; and\nlikewise Reversion, as knowledge declines into ignorance. Even this\nEvolution and Reversion have their limits: they cannot occur in the\nprimary principles of morality, as we saw in the last section. But\nmorality _material_ and objective,--complete morality, where the\nformal and material elements agree, where real wrong is seen to be\nwrong, and real right is known for right--in this morality there is no\nEvolution. If Hannibal offered human sacrifices to his grandfather\nbecause he knew no better, and could not have known better, than to\nthink himself bound so to do, he is to be excused, and even praised\nfor his piety: still it was a mistaken piety; and the act, apart from\nthe light in which the doer viewed it, was a hideous crime. An\nincorrupt teacher of morals would have taught the Carthaginian, not\nthat he was doing something perfectly right for his age and country,\nwhich, however, would be wrong in Germany some centuries later, but\nthat he was doing an act there and then evil and forbidden of God,\nfrom which he was bound, upon admonition, instantly to desist.\n[Footnote 15]\n\n[Footnote 15: The author has seen reason somewhat to modify this view,\nas appears by the Appendix. (Note to Third Edition.)]\n\n5. There are Evolution and Reversion in architecture, but not in the\nlaws of stability of structure, nor in the principles of beauty as\nrealized in building. A combination, ugly now, was not beautiful in\nthe days of Darius. Tastes differ, but not right tastes; and moral\nnotions, but not right moral notions. It is true that questions of\nright and wrong occur in one state of society, that had no relevance\nin an earlier state, the conditions of the case not having arisen. But\nso it is in architecture; there are no arches in the Parthenon. The\nprinciple of the arch, however, held in the age of Pericles, though\nnot applied.\n\n6. The progress of Moral Science is the more and more perfect\ndevelopment of the Natural Law in the heart of man, a psychological,\nnot an ontological development. And Moral Science does progress. No\nman can be a diligent student of morality for years, without coming to\nthe understanding of many things, for which one would look in vain in\nAristotle's _Ethics_ and _Politics_, or in Cicero, _De Officiis_, or\neven in the _Summa_ of St. Thomas, or perhaps in any book ever\nwritten. New moral questions come for discussion as civilization\nadvances. The commercial system of modern times would furnish a theme\nfor another De Lugo. And still on this path of ethical discovery, to\nquote the text that Bacon loved, \"Many shall pass over, and knowledge\nshall be multiplied.\" (Daniel xii. 4.)\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., Supplement, q. 65, art. 1, in corp.; _ib_., q.\n65, art. 2, in corp., and ad 1; Hughes, _Supernatural Morals_, pp. 67,\n68, reviewed in _The Month_ for August, 1891, pp. 542, 543.\n\n\nSECTION IV.--_Of Probabilism_.\n\n\n1. Sometimes conscience returns a clear, positive answer as to the\nmorality of an act contemplated. True or false the answer may be, but\nthe ring of it has no uncertain sound. At other times conscience is\nperplexed, and her answer is, _perhaps_, and _perhaps not_. When the\nwoman hid Achimaas and Jonathan in the well, and said to Absalom's\nservants, \"They passed on in haste\" (2 Kings xvii. 17-21), did she do\nright in speaking thus to save their lives? A point that has perplexed\nconsciences for centuries. A man's hesitation is sometimes subjective\nand peculiar to himself. It turns on a matter of fact, which others\nknow full well, though he doubts; or on a point of law, dark to him,\nbut clearly ruled by the consent of the learned. In such cases it is\nhis duty to seek information from people about him, taking so much\ntrouble to procure it as the importance of the matter warrants, not\nconsulting ten doctors as to the ownership of one hen. But it may be\nthat all due enquiries fail. The fact remains obscure; or about the\nlaw, doctors differ, and arguments conflict indecisively. What is the\nman to do? Take the _safe_ course: suppose there is an obligation, and\nact accordingly? This principle, put as a command, would make human\nlife intolerable. It is, moreover, false, when so put, as we shall\npresently prove. Take the _easy_ course, and leave the obligation out\nof count? This principle is more nearly correct than the other: but it\nneeds interpretation, else it may prove dangerously lax.\n\n2. To return to Achimaas and Jonathan and their hostess. Some such\nreckoning as this may have passed through her mind: \"Lying lips are an\nabomination to the Lord: but is it a lie to put murderers off the\nscent of blood?\" To that question finding no answer, she may have made\nup her mind in this way: \"Well, I don't know, but I'll risk it.\" If\nthat were her procedure, she did not walk by the scientific lines of\nProbabilism. The probabilist runs no risk, enters upon no uncertainty,\nand yet he by no means always follows what is technically termed the\n_safe_ course, that is, the course which supposes the obligation,\n_e.g._, in the case in point, to have said simply where the men were.\nHow then does the probabilist contrive to extract certainty out of a\ncase of insoluble doubt? By aid of what is called a _reflex_\nprinciple. A _reflex_ is opposed to a _direct_ principle. A direct\nprinciple lays down an obligation, as it would bind one who had a\nperfect discernment of the law and of the facts of the case, and of\nthe application of the one to the other, and who was perfectly able to\nkeep the law. By a _reflex_ principle, a man judges of his own act,\ntaking account of the imperfection of his knowledge and the\nlimitations of his power. Probabilism steps in, only where a case is\npractically insoluble to an agent upon direct principles. The\nprobabilist thereupon leaves the direct speculative doubt unsolved. He\nrelinquishes the attempt of determining what a man should do in the\ncase in question, who had a thorough insight into the lie of the law.\nHe leaves that aside, and considers what is his duty, or not his duty,\nin the deficiency of his knowledge. Then he strikes upon the\nprinciple, which is the root of Probabilism, _that a doubtful law has\nno binding power_. It will be observed that this is a _reflex_\nprinciple. For objectively nothing is doubtful, but everything is or\nis not in point of fact. To a mind that had a full grasp of the\nobjective order of things, there would be no doubtful law: such a mind\nwould discern the law in every case as holding or not holding. But no\nhuman mind is so perfect. Every man has to take account of his own\nlimitations of vision in judging of his duty. The question for me is,\nnot the law absolutely, but the law as far as I can make it out. Our\nproposition, then, states that when an individual, using such moral\ndiligence of enquiry as the gravity of the matter calls for, still\nremains in a state of honest doubt as to whether the law binds, in\nthat mental condition it does not bind _him_.\n\n3. What the law does not forbid, it leaves open. Aristotle indeed\n(_Eth_., V., xi., 1) says the contrary, that what the law does not\ncommand (he instances suicide), it forbids. All that he seems to mean\nis, that if there be an act which at times might appear advantageous,\nand yet is never commanded, there is a presumption of the legislator\nbeing averse to that act. Again, there are special occasions, in view\nof which the legislator undertakes to regulate the whole outward\nconduct of a man by positive enactment, as with a soldier on parade:\nwhat is not there commanded, is forbidden. But these instances do not\nderogate from our general proposition, which is proved in this way.\nThe office of law is not to loose, but to bind. It declares, not what\nthe subject may do, but what he must or must not. It does not bring\nliberty, but restriction. Therefore, if any one wishes to assert a\nrestriction, he must go to a law to prove it. If he can find none,\nliberty remains. The law is laid on liberty. Liberty is not the\noutcome of law, but prior to it. Liberty is in possession. The burden\nof proof rests with those who would abridge liberty and impose an\nobligation. It is an axiom of law itself, a natural, not an arbitrary\naxiom, that _better is the condition of the possessor_: which amounts\nin this matter to another statement, also axiomatic, _that a law binds\nnot till it is promulgated_. But a law of which I have serious\noutstanding doubts whether it exists at all, or, if existent, whether\nit reaches my case, is for this occasion a law not duly promulgated to\nme. Therefore it binds me not, and my liberty remains.\n\n4. It remains to consider what constitutes a _serious outstanding\ndoubt_. The word _outstanding_ has been already explained. It means\nthat we have sought for certain information, and cannot procure it.\nNow what is a _serious_ doubt? It is a doubt founded on a _positive_\nopinion against the existence of the law, or its applicability to the\ncase in point, an opinion fraught with probability, _solid,\ncomparative, practical probability_. The doubt must not be mere\nnegative doubt, or ignorance that cannot tell why it doubts; not a\nvague suspicion, or sentimental impression that defies all\nintellectual analysis; not a mere subjective inability to make up\none's mind, but some counter-reason that admits of positive statement,\nas we say, _in black and white_. It is true that many minds cannot\ndefine their grounds of doubt, even when these are real. Such minds\nare unfit to apply the doctrine of Probabilism to themselves, but must\nseek its application from others. The opinion against the law, when\nexplicitly drawn out, must be found to possess a _solid_ probability.\nIt may be either an intrinsic argument from reason and the nature of\nthe case, or an extrinsic argument from the word of some authority:\nbut the reason or the authority must be grave. The opinion is thus\nsaid to be _intrinsically_ or _extrinsically_ probable. The\nprobability must also be _comparative_. There is many an argument, in\nitself a very good one, that perishes when we come to consider the\ncrushing weight of evidence on the other side. An opinion is\n_comparatively_ probable, when after hearing all the reasons and all\nthe authorities on the other side, the said opinion still remains _not\nunlikely_, which is all that we mean to say of an opinion here, when\nwe call it _probable_. In ordinary English, the word _probable_ means\n_more likely than otherwise_, which is not the signification of the\nLatin _opinio probabilis_. Lastly, the probability must be\n_practical_: it must take account of all the circumstances of the\ncase. Practical probability is opposed to _speculative_, which leaves\nout of count certain circumstances, which are pretty sure to be\npresent, and to make all the difference in the issue. Thus it is\nspeculatively probable that a Catholic might without sin remain years\nwithout confession, never having any grievous sins to confess,\ngrievous sin alone being necessary matter for that sacrament. There is\nno downright cogent reason why a man might not do so. And yet, if he\nneglected such ordinary means of grace as confession of venial sin,\nhaving it within reach, month after month, no one, considering \"the\nsin which surrounds us,\" would expect that man to go without grievous\nscathe. In mechanics, there are many machines that work prettily\nenough in speculation and on paper, where the inventors do not\nconsider the difficulties of imperfect material, careless handling,\nclimate, and other influences, that render the invention of no\npractical avail.\n\n5. The safest use of Probabilism is in the field of property\ntransactions and of positive law. There is greatest risk of using it\namiss in remaining in a false religion. All turns upon the varying\namount of trouble involved in _moral diligence_ of enquiry, according\nas the matter at issue is a point of mere observance or of vital\ninterest.\n\n6. The point on which the probability turns must be the lawfulness or\nunlawfulness of the action, not any other issue, as that of the\nphysical consequences. Before rolling boulder-stones down a hill to\namuse myself, it is not enough to have formed a probable opinion that\nthere is no one coming up. That would be Probabilism misapplied. The\ncorrect enquiry is: Does any intrinsic reason or extrinsic authority\nmake the opinion probable, that it is lawful for mere amusement to\nroll down rocks with any belief short of certainty that no one will be\ncrushed thereby? The probability, thus turned on to the lawfulness of\nthe action, breaks down altogether. This explanation, borne in mind,\nwill save much misapprehension.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nOF THE SANCTION OF THE NATURAL LAW.\n\nSECTION I.--_Of a Twofold Sanction, Natural and Divine_.\n\n\n1. The sanction of a law is the punishment for breaking it. The\npunishment for final, persistent breach of the natural law is failure\nto attain the perfect state and last end of the human soul, which is\nhappiness. If existence be prolonged under this failure, it must be in\nthe contrary state of misery. This failure and misery is at once a\n_natural result_ and a _divine infliction_. It is the natural result\nof repeated flagrant acts of moral evil, whereby a man has made his\nnature hideous, corrupted and overthrown it. (c. vi., s. i., nn. 4, 5,\np. 111.) For an end is gained by taking the means, and lost by neglect\nof the means thereto. Now, as we have seen, happiness is an\nintellectual act, the perfection of an intellectual or rational nature\n(c. ii., s. ii., p. 6); and the means to it are living rationally: for\na reasonable being, to do well and fare well, must live by that\nreason, which is the _form_ of his being. (c. vi., s. i., n. 4, p.\n111.) Whoever therefore goes about contradicting the reason that is\nwithin him (c. v., s. iii., n. 3, p. 74) is not in the way to attain\nto happiness. Happiness the end of man, the creature of all others the\nmost complex, is not to be stumbled upon by chance. You may make two\nstones lean upright one against the other by chance, but otherwise\nthan by a methodical application of means to the end you could not\nsupport the spire of Salisbury Cathedral.\n\n2. Man's is a progressive nature (c. vi., s. i., nn. 2,3, p. 109),\nhimself being the director of his own progress. Other progressive\nnatures may be spoilt by their requirements being denied, and contrary\nthings done to them. Man has his requirements. It depends mainly on\nhimself whether he acts up to them or against them. If he acts against\nthem, he so far spoils himself; and once he is thoroughly spoilt by\nhis own doing, the final perfection of humanity is gone from him for\never. It is the natural result.\n\n3. I have spoken (n. 1) of _repeated flagrant acts_: not that I would\nignore the evil _set_ of the will that results from one gross and\ndeliberate evil deed (see c. ix., s. ii., n. 6, p. 168): but because\nthe case is clearer where the acts have been multiplied. However we\nmust not omit to observe, that it is not any _vice_, or evil habit,\nthat formally unfits a man for his final happiness, but an actual evil\n_set_ of the will, coming of actual sin unrepented of, which _set_ is\nmore decided, when that uncancelled sin is the last of many such, and\nthe outcome of a habit. But supposing an habitual sinner to have\nrepented, and his repentance to have been ratified by God, and that he\ndies, not actually in sin, but before the habit of sin has been\neradicated (c. v., s. ii., n. 1, p. 69),--we may say of him, that his\n\"foot is set in the right way,\" that is, his will is actually right,\nand the obstacle to happiness is removed. The evil habit in him is not\nan actual adhesion of his will to evil, but a proneness to relapse\ninto that state. It is only remotely and potentially evil. It is a\nseed of evil, which however will not germinate in the good and\nblissful surroundings to which the soul has been transplanted, but\nremain for ever sterile, or rather, will speedily decay.\n\n4. If we leave God out of morality, and take account only of the\n_philosophical_ aspect of sin (c. vi., s. ii., n. 6, p. 119), we have\nnothing further to say of the sanction than this, which has been said:\n\"Act against nature, and you will end by ruining your nature, and fail\nof your final perfection and happiness.\" But now God comes in, the\ngiver of the law of nature; and the failure, already a natural result,\nmust henceforth be viewed also as a Divine chastisement. There is no\nlaw without a sanction. There is no law, the giver of which can allow\nit to be broken with impunity. A legislator who dispensed with all\nsanction, would rightly be taken by young and old not to be in earnest\nin his command. If then God must give a law to man whom He has created\n(c. vi., s. ii., n. 9, p. 120), He must attach a sanction to that law;\nand if the law is according to the exigency of human nature (c. vi.,\ns. ii., n. 11, p. 122), so will the sanction also be the natural\noutcome of that exigency set at naught and that law broken.\n\n5. Our position gains by the consideration, that the object, in the\ncontemplation of which man's soul is to be finally and perfectly\nblessed in the natural order, is the Creator seen through the veils of\nHis works. (c.ii., s.iv., p. 21.) This mediate vision of God, albeit it\nis to be the work of a future existence, needs practice and\npreparation in this life. God will not be discerned by the man who has\nnot been accustomed to look for Him. He will not be seen by the swine,\nwho with head to earth has eaten his fill of sensual pleasures, and\nhas cared for nothing better. He will not be seen by the covetous man\nand the oppressor, who never identified His image hidden away under\nthe labour-stained dress of the poor. He will not be seen by the man,\nwho never looked up into His face in prayer here below. He will not be\nseen by the earth-laden spirit, that cared nothing at all for God,\nthat hated the mention of His name, that proclaimed Him, or at least\nwished Him, not to be at all.\n\n6. It will be said that this argumentation supposes the habits of\nvice, contracted on earth, to remain in the soul after departure: but\nthere is no proof of that: nay of some vices--those that have more to\ndo with the body, as drunkenness--the habits cannot possibly remain,\nseeing that the appetite wherein they were resident has perished with\nthe body. First, as regards the instance cited, I reply that we may\nconsider drunkenness in two ways, on the one hand as a turning to the\ncreature, on the other as a turning away from reason and the Creator.\nThe craving for liquor cannot remain in the soul after death exactly\nas it was before, though it probably continues in some analogous form,\nas a thirst for wild and irregular excitement: but the loathing and\nhorror of the ways of reason and of God, engendered by frequent\nvoluntary intoxication, still continues in the soul. And from this\nobservation we draw the general answer, that whereas in every sin,\nwhether sensual or spiritual, the most important part is played by the\nwill, and the will is a spiritual, not an organic faculty, a faculty\nwhich is a main element of the soul whether in or out of the\nbody,--therefore the evil bent and inclination of the will, which sin\ninvolves, must remain even in the departed spirit. Lastly, we may ask:\nTo what purpose is our free-will given us, if all souls, good and bad\nalike, users and abusers of the liberty they had on earth, enter into\ntheir long home all of one uniform and spotless hue?\n\n7. Thus then it comes to be, by order of nature and good consequence,\nthat the man who has abandoned God, goes without God; and he who has\nshunned his last end and final good, arrives not unto it; and he who\nwould not go, when invited, to the feast, eats not of the same: and\nwhoso has withdrawn from God, from him God withdraws. \"A curse he\nloved, and it shall come upon him; and he would not have a blessing,\nand it shall be far from him. He put on the curse like a garment, and\nit has gone in like water into his entrails, and like oil into his\nbones,--like a garment which covereth him, and like a girdle wherewith\nhe is girded continually.\" (Psalm cviii. 18, 19.)\n\n8. Conversely, we might argue the final happiness which attaches to\nthe observance of the law of nature. (c. ii., s. v., p. 26.)\n\n_Readings._--St. Thos., _Cont. Gent._, iii., cc. 140, 141, 143, 145.\n\n\nSECTION II.--_Of the Finality of the aforesaid Sanction_.\n\n\n1. By a _final_, as distinguished from an _eternal_ state, is here\nmeant the last state of existence in a creature, whether that state go\non for ever, in which case it is _final_ and _eternal_, or whether it\nterminate in the cessation of that creature's being, which is a case\nof a state _final_, but not _eternal_. Whether the unhappy souls of\nmen, who have incurred the last sentence of the natural law, shall\nexist for eternity, is not a question for philosophy to decide with\ncertainty. The philosopher rules everything _a priori_, showing what\nmust be, if something else is. Of the action of God in the world, he\ncan only foretell that amount which is thus hypothetically necessary.\nSome divine action there is, of which the _congruity_ only, not the\n_necessity_, is apparent to human eyes: there the philosopher can tell\nwith _probability_, but not with _certainty_, what God will do. Other\nactions of God are wholly beyond our estimate of the reasons of them:\nwe call them simply and entirely free. In that sphere philosophy has\nno information to render of her own; she must wait to hear from\nrevelation what God has done, or means to do. Philosophers have given\n_reasons of congruence_, as they call them, for the reprobate sinner\nnot being annihilated, and therefore for his _final_ punishment being\n_eternal_. Those reasons go to evince the probability of eternal\npunishment, a probability which is deepened into certainty by\nrevelation. We shall not enter into them here, but shall be content to\nargue that a term is set to the career of the transgressor, arrived at\nwhich he must leave hope behind of ever winning his way to happiness,\nor ever leading any other existence than one of misery.\n\n2. The previous question has shown that some punishment must attend\nupon violation of the natural law. Suppose a trangressor has suffered\naccordingly for a certain time after death, what shall be done with\nhim in the end? If he does not continue to suffer as long as he\ncontinues to be, then one of three things: he must either pass into\nhappiness, or into a new state of probation, or his very punishment\nmust be a probation, wherein if he behaves well, he shall be rewarded\nwith happiness at last, or if ill, he shall continue in misery until\nhe amend. All this speculation, be it understood, lies apart from\nrevelation. If then the sufferer passed out of this world,\nsubstantially and in the main a good man, it is not unreasonable that,\nafter a period of expiatory suffering for minor delinquencies, he\nshould reach that happiness which is the just reward of his\nsubstantial righteousness. But what of him who closed his career in\nwickedness exceeding great? Mere suffering will never make of him a\ngood man, or a fit subject for happiness. But the suffering may be\nprobationary, and he may amend himself under the trial. Against that\nhypothesis philosophers have brought _a priori_ arguments to show that\nthe period of probation must end with the separation of the soul from\nthe body. But waiving all such arguments, let us suppose that there\nmight be probation after probation even in the world to come. But some\nhuman souls would continue obstinately and unrepentingly set in\nwickedness, age after age, and probation after probation: for the\npossible malice of the will is vastly great. What is to become of such\nobstinate characters? It seems against the idea of probation, that\nperiods of trial should succeed one another in an endless series. It\nwould be a reasonable rule in a university, that an undergraduate who\nhad been plucked twenty-five times, should become ineligible for his\ndegree. Coming after so many failures, neither would the degree be any\nornament to him, nor he to the university. A soul cannot look for\nseasons without end of possible grace and pardon to shine upon it. The\nseries of probations must end somewhere. And then? We are come round\nto where we began. When all the probation is over, the soul is found\neither in conformity with the natural law, which means ultimate\nhappiness, or at variance with the law, and becomes miserable with a\nmisery that shall never terminate, unless the soul itself ceases to\nbe.\n\n3. It may be asked, how much conformity to the natural law is\nrequisite and sufficient, to exempt a person at the end of his trial\nfrom a final doom of misery, or to ensure his lasting happiness? The\nquestion resolves itself into three:--how do sins differ in point of\ngravity? is grave sin ever forgiven? is the final award to be given\nupon the person's whole life, a balance being struck between his good\nand evil deeds, or is it to be simply upon his moral state at the last\nmoment of his career of trial?\n\n4. It was a paradox of the Stoics, that all offences are equal, the\ntreading down of your neighbour's cabbage as heinous a crime as\nsacrilege. (Horace, _Satires_, i., 3, 115-119.) But it is obvious that\nthere is a vast difference, as well _objectively_ in the matter of the\noffence, _e.g_., in the instance just quoted from Horace, as also\n_subjectively_ in the degree of knowledge, advertence, and will,\nwherewith the offender threw himself into the sin. Thus offences come\nto be distinguished as _grave_ and _light_: the latter being such as\nwith a human master would involve a reprimand, the former, instant\ndismissal. Final misery is not incurred except by grave offending.\n\n5. The second question, whether grave sin is ever forgiven, cannot be\nanswered by philosophy. Of course the sinner may see by the light of\nreason his folly and his error, and thereby conceive some sort of\nsorrow for it, and retract, and to some extent withdraw his will from\nit on natural grounds. This amendment of sin on its moral and\nphilosophical side may deserve and earn pardon at human hands. But the\noffence against God remains to be reckoned for with God. Now God is\nnot bound to forgive without receiving satisfaction; and He never can\nreceive due satisfaction from man for the contempt that a deliberate,\ngrave, and flagrant violation of the moral law puts upon the Infinite\nMajesty of the Lawgiver. The first thing that revelation has to teach\nus is whether, and on what terms, God is ready to pardon grievous sin.\n\n6. The balance between deeds good and evil is not struck merely at the\ninstant of death. It is being struck continually; and man's final\ndestiny turns on how that balance stands at the close of his time of\nprobation. So long as he keeps the substance of the moral law, the\nbalance is in his favour. But one downright wilful and grievous\ntransgression outweighs with God all his former good deeds. It is a\ndefiance of the Deity, a greater insult than all his previous life was\na service and homage. It is as though a loyal regiment had mutinied,\nor a hitherto decent and orderly citizen were taken red-handed in\nmurder. If however God deigns to draw the offender to repentance, and\nto pardon him, the balance is restored. Thus everything finally\ndepends on man being free from guilt of grievous transgression at the\ninstant of death, or at the end of his period of probation, whenever\nand wherever that end may come.\n\n_Reading_.--Lessius, _De perfectionibus divinis_, 1.xiii., c. xxvi.,\nnn. 183, seq.\n\n\nSECTION III.--_Of Punishment Retrospective and Retributive_.\n\n\n1. The doctrine of the last section might stand even in the mind of\none who held that all punishment is probational, and destined for the\namendment of him who undergoes it, to humble him, to awaken his sense\nof guilt, and to make him fear to transgress again. On this theory of\npunishment, the man who in his last probational suffering refuses to\namend, must be let drop out of existence as incorrigible, and so\nclearly his final state is one of misery. The theory is not\ninconsistent with _final_ punishment, but with _eternal_ punishment,\nunless indeed we can suppose a creature for all eternity to refuse,\nand that under stress of torment, a standing invitation to repentance.\nIt is however a peculiar theory, and opposite to the common tradition\nof mankind, which has ever been to put gross offenders to death, not\nas incorrigible, not simply as refuse to be got rid of, but that their\nfate may be a _deterrent_ to others. Punishment, in this view, is\n_medicinal_ to the individual, and _deterrent_ to the community.\nEternal punishment has been defended on the score of its _deterrent_\nforce. Both these functions of punishment, the _medicinal_ and the\n_deterrent_ function, are prospective. But there is asserted a third\nfunction, which is retrospective: punishment is said to be\n_retributive_. It is on this ground that the justification of eternal\npunishment mainly rests. We are however here concerned, not with that\neternity, but in an endeavour to give a full and adequate view of\npunishment in all its functions.\n\n2. If punishment is never _retributive_, the human race in all\ncountries and ages has been the sport of a strange illusion. Everyone\nknows what _vengeance_ means. It is a desire to punish some one, or to\nsee him punished, not prospectively and with an eye to the future, for\nhis improvement, or as a warning to others, but retrospectively and\nlooking to the past, that he may suffer for what he has done. Is then\nthe idea of vengeance nothing but an unclean phantom? Is there no such\nthing as vengeance to a right-minded man? Then is there an evil\nelement, an element _essentially_ and _positively_ evil, in human\nnature. No one will deny that the idea, and to some extent the desire,\nof vengeance, of retaliation, of retrospective infliction of suffering\nin retribution for evil done, of what we learn to call in the nursery\n_tit for tat_, is natural to mankind. It is found in all men. We all\nrespond to the sentiment:\n\n  Mighty Fates, by Heaven's decree accomplish,\n  According as right passes from this side to that.\n  For hateful speech let speech of hate be paid back:\n  Justice exacting her due cries this aloud:\n  For murderous blow dealt let the murderer pay\n  By stroke of murder felt.\n  Do and it shall be done unto thee:\n  Old is this saying and old and old again.\n\n[Footnote 16: \u00c6schylus, _Choephori_, 316, seq. These lines embody the\nidea on which the dramas of the Shakespeare of Greece are principally\nfounded. But when was a work of the highest art based upon an idea\nunsound, irrational and vicious?]\n\nNor must we be led away by Mill (_Utilitarianism_, c.v.) into\nconfounding retaliation, or vengeance, with self-defence. Self-defence\nis a natural idea also, but not the same as retaliation. We defend\nourselves against a mad dog, we do not retaliate on him. Hence we must\nnot argue that, because self-defence is prospective, therefore so is\nvengeance.\n\n3. A thing is _essentially_ evil, when there is no possible use of it\nwhich is not an abuse. Not far different is the conception of a thing\n_positively_ evil, evil, that is, not by reason of any deficiency, or\nby what it is not, but evil by what it is in itself. Such an\nessential, positive evil in human nature would vengeance be, a natural\nthing for which there was no natural use, unless punishment may in\nsome measure be retributive. We cannot admit such a flaw in nature.\nAll healthy philosophy goes on the principle, that what is natural is\nso far forth good. Otherwise we lapse into Manicheism, pessimism,\nscepticism, abysses beyond the reach of argument. Vengeance\nundoubtedly prompts to many crimes, but so does the passion of love.\nBoth are natural impulses. It would scarcely be an exaggeration to set\ndown one third of human transgressions to love, and another third to\nrevenge: yet it is the abuse in each case, not the use, that leads to\nsin. If the matrimonial union were wicked and detestable, as the\nManicheans taught, then would the passion of love be an abomination\nconnatural to man. Such another enormity would be the affection of\nvengeance, if punishment could never rightly be retributive.\n\n4. Aristotle, _Rhetoric_, I., x., 17, distinguishes two functions of\npunishment thus: \"Chastisement is for the benefit of him that suffers\nit, but vengeance is for him that wreaks it, that he may have\nsatisfaction.\" Add to this the warning given to the commonwealth by\nthe example that is made of the offender, and we have the three\nfunctions of punishment, _medicinal_, _deterrent_, and _retributive_.\nAs it is _medicinal_, it serves the _offender_: as it is _deterrent_,\nit serves the _commonwealth_: as it is _retributive_, it serves the\n_offended party_, being a reparation offered to him. Now, who is the\noffended party in any evil deed? So far as it is a sin against\njustice, an infringement of any man's right, he is the offended party.\nHe is offended, however, not simply and precisely by your violation of\nthe moral law, but by your having, in violation of that law, taken\naway something that belonged to him. Consequently, when you make\nrestitution and give him back what you took away, with compensation\nfor the temporal deprival of it, he is satisfied, and the offence\nagainst him is repaired. If you have maliciously burnt his house down,\nyou bring him the price of the house and furniture, together with\nfurther payment for the fright and for the inconvenience of being, for\nthe present, houseless. You may do all that, and yet the moral guilt\nof the conflagration may remain upon your soul. But that is no affair\nof his: he is not the custodian of the moral law: he is not offended\nby your sin, formally viewed as sin: nor has he any function of\npunishing you, taking vengeance upon you, or exacting from you\nretribution for that. But what if his wife and children have perished,\nand you meant them so to perish, in the fire? Your debt of restitution\nstill lies in the matter which you took away. Of course it is a debt\nthat cannot be paid. You cannot give back his \"pretty chickens and\ntheir dam\" whole and alive again. Still your inability to pay one debt\ndoes not make you liable to that creditor for another debt, which is\npart of a wholly different account. He is not offended by, nor are you\nanswerable to him for, your sin in this case any more than in the\nformer.\n\n5. We may do an _injury_ to an individual, commit a _crime_ against\nthe State, and _sin_ against God. The injury to the individual is\nrepaired by restitution, not by punishment, and therefore not by\nvengeance, which is a function of punishment. There is no such thing\nas vengeance for a private wrong, and therefore we have the precept to\nforgive our enemies, and not to avenge ourselves, in which phrase the\nemphasis falls on the word _ourselves_. The clear idea and strong\ndesire of vengeance, which nature affords, shows that there is such a\nthing as vengeance to be taken by some one: it does not warrant every\nform of vengeance, or allow it to be taken by each man for himself. It\nconsecrates the principle of retribution, not every application of the\nprinciple. It is a point of _synderesis_, not of particular conduct.\nThe reader should recall what was said of the vengeance of Hannibal at\nHimera. (c. viii., s. ii., p. 144.)\n\n6. It belongs to the State to punish _political sin_, or crime, and to\nGod to punish _theological sin_, which is sin properly so called, a\nbreach of the Eternal Law. The man who has burnt his neighbour's house\ndown, though he has compensated the individual owner, may yet be\npunished by the State. The owner, acting in his capacity as citizen,\neven when he has been compensated as an individual, may still hand him\nover to the State for punishment. The arson was a violation, not only\nof _commutative_, but of _legal_ justice (c. v., s. ix., nn. 3, 6, pp.\n103, 106), a disturbance of the public peace and social order, an\noutrage upon the majesty of the law. For this he may be punished by\nthe State, which is the guardian of all these things, and which has\njurisdiction over him to make laws for him, and to enforce their\nsanction against him. Civil punishment, besides being deterrent, is\nretributive for the breach of social order. It is the vengeance of the\ncommonwealth upon the disturber of the public peace. Whether the State\ncan punish on pure grounds of retribution, away from all hope or need\nof deterring possible imitators of the crime, is a question irrelevant\nto our present enquiry. Probably a negative answer should be returned.\n\n7. We come now to the punishment of sin by God, the Living\nReasonableness, the Head of the Commonwealth of Creation, the\nLegislator of the Eternal Law, the Fountain of all Jurisdiction, Him\nin whose hands rests the plenitude of the power to punish. An evil\ndeed may be no wrong to any individual man, no crime against the\nState, but it must ever be an offence against God. It is a departure\nfrom the order of man's progress as a reasonable being (c. v., s.\niii., n. 3, p. 74: c. vi., s. i., nn. 1-5, p. 109), which is founded\non the nature of God Himself (c. vi., s. i., n. 7, p. 113), of which\norder God is the official guardian (c. vi., s. ii., nn. 8-10, p. 119),\nand which is enjoined by God's Eternal Law. (c. vii., n. 3, p. 129.)\nThis law extends to all creation, rational and irrational, animate and\ninanimate. It bids every creature work according to his or its own\nnature and circumstances. Given to irrational beings, the law is\nsimply irresistible and unfailing: such are the physical laws of\nnature, so many various emanations of the one Eternal Law. Given to\nrational creatures, the law may be resisted and broken: sin is the one\nthing in the universe that does break it. (c. vii., nn. 5-7, p. 130.)\nA man may act in disregard of the Eternal Law on one or other of its\nphysical sides, and so much the worse for him, though he has not\nbroken the law, but merely ignored its operation, as when one eats\nwhat is unwholesome. Much more shall he suffer for having broken the\nlaw, in the only possible way that it can be broken, by sin. This\npeculiar violation draws after it a peculiar consequence of suffering,\npenal and retributive. If a man gets typhoid fever in his house, we\nsometimes say it is a _punishment_ on him for neglecting his drains,\neven when the neglect was a mere piece of ignorance or inadvertence.\nIt is an evil consequence certainly,--the law, which he thought not\nof, working itself out in the form of disease. But it is not properly\npunishment: no natural law has been really broken: there has been no\nguilt, and the suffering is not retributive and compensatory. It does\nnot go to restore the balance of the neglect. It is a lamentable\nconsequence, not a repayment. As, when man wrongs his fellow-man, he\nmakes with him an _involuntary contract_ (c. v., s. ix., n. 6, p.\n106), to restore what he takes away: so in sinning against God, man\nmakes another involuntary contract, to pay back in suffering against\nhis will what he unduly takes in doing his own will against the will\nof the Legislator. As St. Augustine says of Judas (Serm. 125, n. 5):\n\"He did what he liked, but he suffered what he liked not. In his doing\nwhat he liked, his sin is found: in his suffering what he liked not,\nGod's ordinance is praised.\" Thus it is impossible for the Eternal\nLaw, which bears down all so irresistibly in irrational nature,\nfinally to fail of its effect even upon the most headstrong and\ncontumacious of rational creatures; but, as St. Thomas says (1a 2\u00e6, q.\n93, art. 6, in corp.), \"The defect of doing is made up by suffering,\ninasmuch as they suffer what the Eternal Law prescribes for them to\nthe extent to which they fail to do what accords with the Eternal\nLaw.\" And St. Anselm (_Cur Deus homo_, nn. 14, 15): \"God cannot\npossibly lose His honour: for either the sinner spontaneously pays\nwhat he owes, or God exacts it of him against his will. Thus if a man\nchooses to fly from under the will of God commanding, he falls under\nthe same will punishing.\" Punishment is called by Hegel, \"the other\nhalf of sin.\" Lastly, they are God's own spoken words (Deut. xxxii.\n35): \"Vengeance is Mine, I will repay.\"\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., _Cont. Gent_., iii. 140, n. 5, Amplius; _ib_.,\niii., 144, nn. 8, Per hoc, and 9, Est autem.\n\nFor Plato's views on punishment see _Protag_. 324 A, B; _Gorgias_,\n525; _Rep_. 380 B, 615; _Phaedo_, 113 E; _Laws_, 854 D; 862 D, E; 934\nA; 957 E. Plato recognizes only the _medicinal_ and the _deterrent_\nfunctions of punishment, and ignores the _retributive_. This is not to\nbe wondered at in one who wrote: \"No one is wicked voluntarily; but it\nis an evil habit of body and a faulty education that is the cause of\nevery case of wickedness\" (_Timaeus_, 86 E; cf. _Laws_, 731 C, D),\nwhich error receives a masterly confutation in Aristotle, _Ethics_,\nIII, v.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nOF UTILITARIANISM.\n\n\n1. Though the name _utilitarian_ is an English growth of this century,\nthe philosophy so called probably takes its origin from the days when\nman first began to speculate on moral matters. Bentham and the two\nMills, Austin, and George Grote, have repeated in England the\nsubstance of what Protagoras and Epicurus taught in Greece, two\nthousand years before. It is the system of Ethics to which all must\nincline, who ignore the spiritual side of man's nature and his hopes\nof a better world. It is a morality of the earth, earthy.\n\n2. Utilitarianism has not been formulated like the Athanasian Creed.\nIt is impossible to state it and combat it in a form to which all\nUtilitarians will subscribe. Indeed, it is an amiable weakness of\ntheirs, when confronted with the grosser consequences that flow from\ntheir theories, to run off to some explanation, true enough, but quite\nout of keeping with the primary tenets of their school. We will take\nwhat may be called a \"mean reading\" of the indications which various\nUtilitarian thinkers afford of their mind and philosophy. These\nauthorities, then, teach two main heads of doctrine:--\n\n(1) That the last end and final good of man lies in this world, and\nconsists in the greatest happiness of the greatest number of mankind,\nhappiness being taken to mean pleasure as well of the senses as of the\nunderstanding, such pleasure as can be had in this world, along with\nimmunity from pain. (Mill's _Utilitarianism_, 2nd Ed., pp. 9, seq.)\n\n(2) That human acts are _right_ or _wrong_, according as they are\n_useful_ or _hurtful_, that is, according as their consequences make\nfor or against the above-mentioned end of social happiness.\n\n3. Consequences, as Utilitarians very properly point out, are either\n_general_ or _particular_. They add that, in pronouncing an action to\nbe good or evil according to its consequences, they mean the general\nand not the particular consequences. In other words, they bid us\nconsider, not the immediate results of _this action_, but what would\nbe the result to society, if _this sort of action_ were generally\nallowed. This point is well put by Paley (_Moral Philosophy_, bk. ii.,\nc. vii.: all three chapters, vi., vii., viii., should be read, as the\nbest explanation of the Principle of General Consequences):\n\n\"You cannot permit one action and forbid another, without showing a\ndifference between them. Consequently the same sort of actions must be\ngenerally permitted or generally forbidden. Where, therefore, the\ngeneral permission of them would be pernicious, it becomes necessary\nto lay down and support the rule which generally forbids them.... The\nassassin knocked the rich villain on the head, because he thought him\nbetter out of the way than in it. If you allow this excuse in the\npresent instance, you must allow it to all who act in the same manner,\nand from the same motive; that is, you must allow every man to kill\nany one he meets, whom he thinks noxious or useless: ... a disposition\nof affairs which would soon fill the world with misery and confusion,\nand ere long put an end to human society.\"\n\nMy contention is, not with the Principle of General Consequences,\nwhich has a certain value in Ethics, and is used by many writers other\nthan Utilitarian, but with the two stated above, n. 2, which are\ncalled the Greatest Happiness Principle and the Principle of Utility.\n\n4. Against the Greatest Happiness Principle I have these complaints:\n\n(1) Utilitarians from Paley to John Stuart Mill aver that their\nteaching is no bar to any man hoping for and striving after the\nhappiness of the world to come. They say that such happiness cannot be\nbetter attained than by making it your principal aim to improve all\ntemporal goods and dissipate all temporal evil. Their maxim in fact\nis: \"Take care of the things of earth, and the things of heaven will\ntake care of themselves.\" Whereas it was the very contrary teaching of\nHim, whom moderns, who see in Him no higher character, still love to\ncall the greatest of moral teachers: \"That which fell among thorns are\nthey who have heard, and going their way, are choked with the cares\nand riches and pleasures of this life, and yield no fruit.\" (St. Luke\nviii. 14.)\n\n(2) It will be said that these thorns grow of selfishness, and that\nthese cares are the cares of individual interest, whereas the\nUtilitarian's delight and glory is to live, not for himself, but for\nthe commonwealth. But how can a man, who takes pleasure to be his\nhighest good and happiness, live otherwise than for himself? Here we\ncome upon the unobserved fault and flaw, which entirely vitiates the\nUtilitarian structure. It is an union of two opposite and incompatible\nelements. An old poet has said:\n\n  Vinegar and oil in one same vessel pour,\n  They stand apart, unfriendly, all the more.\n\n(Aeschylus, _Agam_., 330, 331.)\n\nUtilitarianism consists of a still more unfriendly and unwholesome\nmixture of two elements, both of them bad, and unable to stand\ntogether, Hedonism and Altruism. Hedonism is the doctrine that the\nmain object and end of life is pleasure: which is the position laid\ndown in so many words by Mill (1. c.), that \"actions are right in\nproportion as they tend to promote happiness;\" and \"by happiness is\nintended pleasure and the absence of pain.\" If Hedonism were sound\ndoctrine, the Pleasant and the Good would be identical, and the most\npleasant pleasure would ever be the best pleasure. That would take\naway all distinction of _kind_ or _quality_ among pleasures, and\ndifferentiate them only by intensity and duration. This was Paley's\ndoctrine, a fundamental point of Hedonism, and therefore also of the\nUtilitarian philosophy. John Mill, very honourably to himself, but\nvery fatally to the system that he was writing to defend, parted\ncompany with Paley. We have argued against Paley (c. iv., s. iii., nn.\n3-5, p. 55), that there is a _better_ and a _worse_ in pleasures,\nquite distinct from the _more_ or _less_ pleasurable, even if that\n_more_ be taken _in the long run_ in this world.\n\nAgain it may be considered that pleasure, even the best and highest,\nis a sort of efflorescence from activity, and is for activity, not\nactivity for it; and better is the activity, whatever it be, than the\npleasure which comes thereof; wherefore no pleasure, as pleasure, can\nbe the highest good and happiness of man.\n\nHedonism then is an error. But errors may be opposed to one another as\nwell as to the truth. Hedonism is opposed to Altruism in this way. A\nman may take pleasure in seeing other people enjoy themselves. Nothing\nis more common, except the pleasure taken in enjoying one's own self.\nBut if a man only feeds the hungry that he may have the satisfaction\nof seeing them eat, is it the hungry or himself that he finally seeks\nto gratify? Clearly, himself. That is the behaviour of the Hedonist,\nhe acts for his own pleasure even in his benevolence. The Altruist, on\nthe contrary, professes never to act for self, but for society. So\nthat society flourish, he is ready to be crushed and ruined, not in\nthe matter of his pleasure only, but even in that of his own good.\nSelfishness, by which he means all manner of regard to self, is, upon\nhis conscience, the unforgiven sin. But Hedonism is selfishness in the\ngrossest form, being the mere pursuit in all things of pleasurable\nfeeling--feeling being always particular and limited to self, in\ncontradistinction to good, which is universal and diffuses itself all\nround. The Hedonist seeks his own pleasure, where the Altruist forbids\nhim to take thought, let alone for his gratification, but even for his\ngood. Thus an Hedonist cannot be Altruist to boot; and, trying to\ncombine the two characters, the Utilitarian is committed to a\nself-contradiction.\n\nIf he relinquishes Hedonism, and holds to Altruism, pure and simple,\nhis position is not much improved. Altruism overlooks the fact, that\nman, as compared with other men, is a _person_, the centre of his own\nacts, not a _thing_, to be entirely referred to others. He is in\nrelation with others, as child, father, husband, master, citizen; but\nthese relations do not take up the whole man. There is a residue\nwithin,--an inner being and life, which is not referable to any\ncreature outside himself, but only to the Creator. For this inner\nbeing, man is responsible to God alone. The good of this, the \"inner\nman of the heart,\" is each individual's proper and primary care.\nAltruism, and Utilitarianism with it, ignore the interior life of the\nsoul, and substitute human society, that is, ultimately, the\ndemocratic State, in place of God.\n\n(3) Another confusion that the Greatest Happiness Principle involves,\nis the mistaking the political for the ethical end of life. The\npolitical end, which it is the statesman's business to aim at, and the\ncitizen's duty to subserve, is \"the natural happiness of the\ncommonwealth, and of individuals as members of the commonwealth, that\nthey may live in it in peace and justice, and with a sufficiency of\ngoods for the preservation and comfort of bodily life, and with that\namount of moral rectitude which is necessary for this outward peace\nand preservation of the commonwealth, and the perpetuity of the human\nrace.\" (Suarez, _De Legibus_, III., xi., 7.) This is all the good that\nthe Utilitarian contemplates. He is satisfied to make a good\n_citizen_, a good _husband_, a good _father_, for the transactions of\nthis life. He has no concern to make a good _man_ up to the ethical\nstandard, which supposes the observance of the whole natural law,\nduties to God, and duties within himself, as well as duties to human\nsociety, and by this observance the compassing of the everlasting\nhappiness of the man's own individual soul.\n\nAgainst the Principle of Utility I find these charges:\n\n(1) It takes the sign and indication of moral evil for the evil\nitself, as if the physician should take the symptom for the disease.\nIt places the wickedness of an act in the physical misery and\nsuffering that are its consequences. This is, I say, a taking of the\nindication for the thing indicated. An act is bad in itself and by\nitself, as being a violation of the rational nature of the doer (c.\nvi., s. i.), and being bad, it breeds bad consequences. But the\nbadness of the act is moral; the badness of the consequences,\nphysical. There is an evident intrinsic irrationality, and thereby\nmoral evil, in such sins as intemperance, peevishness, and vanity. But\nlet us take an instance of an act, apparently harmless in itself, and\nevil solely because of the consequences. Supposing one insists upon\nplaying the piano for his own amusement, to the disturbance of an\ninvalid who is lying in a critical state in the next room. Do the mere\nconsequences make this otherwise innocent amusement evil? Yes, if you\nconsider the amusement in the abstract: but if you take it as _this\nhuman act_, the act is inordinate and evil in itself, or as it is\nelicited in the mind of the agent. The volition amounts to this: \"I\nprefer my amusement to my neighbour's recovery,\" which is an act\nunseemly and unreasonable in the mind of a social being. Utilitarians\nfall into the capital error of ignoring the intrinsic value of an act,\nand estimating it wholly by extrinsic results, because they commonly\nfollow the phenomenalist philosophy, which breaks away from all such\nideas as _substance_ and _nature_, and regards nothing but sequences\nand coexistences of phenomena. To a phenomenalist the precept, _Live\nup to thy nature_, can have no meaning.\n\n(2) Aristotle (_Ethics_, II., iv., 3) draws this distinction between\nvirtue and art, that \"the products of art have their excellence in\nthemselves: it suffices therefore that they are of this or that\nquality: but acts of virtue are not done virtuously according to the\nquality of the thing done, but according to the state of mind of the\ndoer; first, according to his knowledge of what he was about; then,\naccording to his volition, as that was guided or not guided by the\nproper motives of the virtue; thirdly, according to the steadiness and\nfixedness of his will; whereas all these considerations are of no\naccount in a work of art, except the single one of the artist being\naware of what he was about.\" Elsewhere (_Ethics_, VI., iv., 2), he\nsays that virtue is distinguished from art as being _action_, not\n_production_. The Principle of Utility confounds virtue with art, or\nperhaps I should say, with manufactures. It judges conduct, as one\nwould shoemaking, by trial of the product, or net result. So far from\nbeing solicitous, with Aristotle, that volition should be \"guided by\nthe proper motives of the virtue\" which there is question of\npractising (c. v., s. viii., n. 4, p. 96: Ar. _Eth_., III., viii.),\nMill (_Utilitarianism_, p. 26) tells us that \"utilitarian moralists\nhave gone beyond almost all others in affirming that the motive has\nnothing to do with the morality of the action.\" By _motive_ he\nunderstands what we have called _the end in view_. (c. iii., s. ii.,\nn. 2, p. 31.) So that, if one man waits on the sick for the love of\nGod, and another in hope of a legacy, the morality of these two acts\nis the same, just as it makes no difference to the usefulness of a\npair of boots, what motive it was that set the shoemaker to work.\nTrue, Mill admits that the motive has \"much to do with the worth of\nthe agent:\" but that, he hastens to explain, is inasmuch as \"it\nindicates ... a bent of character from which useful, or from which\nhurtful actions are likely to arise.\" Even so,--the shoemaker who\nworks to earn money for a carousal, is not likely to go on producing\nuseful articles so long as another, who labours to support his family.\nSuch is the moral difference that Mill places between the two men; one\ninstrument of production is longer available than the other.\n\n(3) Another well established distinction is that between _harm_ and\n_injury_, injury being wilful and unjust harm. The housemaid, who in\narranging the room has burned your manuscript of \"sugared sonnets,\"\nhas done you no injury, for she meant none, but how vast the _harm_ to\nthe author and to mankind! Harm is visible in the effects: but injury\nonly upon examination of the mind of the agent. Not so, however, the\nUtilitarian thinks: harm being equal, he can make no difference\nbetween a tyrant and a man-eating tiger. Thus George Grote says of a\ncertain murderous usurper of the kingdom of Macedon: \"You discover\nnothing while your eye is fixed on Archelaus himself.... But when you\nturn to the persons whom he has killed, banished, or ruined--to the\nmass of suffering that he has inflicted--and to the widespread\ninsecurity which such acts of iniquity spread through all societies\nwhere they become known--there is no lack of argument which prompts a\nreflecting spectator to brand him as [a most dangerous and destructive\nanimal, no] a disgraceful man.\" (Grote's _Plato_, ii., p. 108.) Why\nArchelaus is described in terms of the tiger, and then branded as a\ndisgraceful man, we are at a loss to conceive, except in this way,\nthat the writer's philosophy forsook him at the end of the sentence,\nand he reverted to the common sense of mankind. But he should have\neither ended the sentence as suggested in the parenthesis, or have\nbeen willing to call the man-eater of the Indian jungle, who has\n\"learned to make widows, and to lay waste their cities,\" _a\ndisgraceful tiger_; or lastly, he should have looked back, where he\ndeclared it was vain to look, upon Archelaus himself, and discerned in\nhim that moral deformity, and contradiction of reason, whereof a brute\nbeast is incapable, but which is a disgrace and a stain upon humanity.\n\nA later writer, who presses Utilitarianism into the service of\nSocialism, is plainer-spoken than Grote, and says bluntly: \"To be\nhonestly mistaken avails nothing. Thus Herbert Spencer--who is under\nthe delusion that we have come into this world each for the sake of\nhimself, and who opposes, as far as he can, the evolution of\nsociety--is verily an immoral man.... Right is every conduct which\ntends to the welfare of society; wrong, what obstructs that welfare.\"\n(Gronlund, _Co-operative Commonwealth_, pp. 226, 227.) Thus is\noverlaid the difference between harm and injury, between physical and\nmoral evil: thus is the meaning of a _human act_ ignored: in this\nabyss of chaos and confusion, which Utilitarianism has opened out,\nMoral Philosophy finds her grave.\n\n(4) The Principle of Utility sees in virtue a habit of self-sacrifice,\nuseful to the community, but not naturally pleasant, and therefore not\nnaturally good and desirable, to him that practises it, but made\npleasurable and good and desirable to him by practice. (Mill, pp.\n53-57.) In this way virtue becomes naturally a very good thing for\nevery one else but its possessor, but to him it is a natural evil,\ninasmuch as it deprives him of pleasure, which natural evil by habit\nis gradually converted into a factitious and artificial good, the man\nbecoming accustomed to it, as the proverb says, \"like eels to\nskinning.\" This theory is the resuscitation of one current among the\nSophists at Athens, and described by Plato thus.--The natural good of\nman is to afford himself every indulgence, even at the expense of his\nneighbours. He follows his natural good accordingly: so do his\nneighbours follow theirs, and try to gratify themselves at his\nexpense. Fights ensue, till mankind, worried and wearied with\nfighting, make a compact, each to give up so much of his natural good\nas interferes with that of his neighbour. Human society, formed on\nthis understanding, enforces the compact in the interest of society.\nThus the interest of society is opposed to the interest of the\nindividual, in this that it keeps him out of his best natural good,\nwhich is to do as his appetite of pleasure bids him in all things,\nthough it compensates him with a second-class good, by preventing his\nneighbours from pleasure-hunting at his expense. If then his\nneighbours could be restrained, and he left free to gratify himself,\nthat would be perfect bliss. But only a despot here or there has\nattained to it. The ordinary man must pay his tax of virtue to the\ncommunity, a loss to him, but a gain to all the rest: while he is\ncompensated by the losses which their virtue entails upon them.\n\nSuch was the old Athenian theory, which John Mill, the Principle of\nUtility in his hand, completes by saying that by-and-bye, and little\nby little (as the prisoner of Chillon came to love his dungeon), the\nhampered individual comes to love, and to find an artificial happiness\nin, those restrictions of his liberty, which are called Virtue.\n\nIt was against this theory that Plato wrote his _Republic_, and, to\ncompare a little thing to a great, the whole account of moral good\nbeing in consonance with nature, and of moral obligation rising out of\nthe nature of the individual man, as has been set forth in this brief\nText-book, may serve for a refutation of the perverse doctrine of\nUtilitarianism.\n\n_Readings_.--Plato, _Republic_, pp. 338 E, 339 A, 343 C, D, E, 344 A,\nB, C, 358 E, 359 A, B, 580 B, C.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nPART III. NATURAL LAW.\n\n\nWe assume in Natural Law the preceding treatise on Ethics, and also\nthe principal truths of Natural Theology.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nOF DUTIES OF GOD.\n\nSECTION I.--_Of the Worship of God_.\n\n\n1. _Worship_ is divided into _prayer_ and _praise_. To pray, and\npresent our petitions to the Most High, is a privilege; a privilege,\nhowever, which we are bound to use at times, as the necessary means\nfor overcoming temptations and inclinations to evil. We praise and\nadore God for His sovereign excellence, which excellence,\nnevertheless, would found in us no positive duty if we stood free of\nall dependence upon God. In such an hypothesis we should lie simply\nunder the negative duty of not thinking of God, speaking of Him, or\nacting towards Him otherwise than with all reverence. So we should\nbehave to the Great Stranger, with civility, with admiration even and\nawe, but not with cordiality, not with loyalty, not with homage, not\nwith love. Very different are our relations and our duties to God our\nLord, \"in whom we live, move, and have our being.\" There is nothing in\nus or about us, no positive perfection of ours whatsoever, that is not\nHis gift, and a gift that He is not giving continually, else it would\nbe lost to us. We are therefore bound in His regard, not merely to\nabstention but to act. And first, for inward acts, we must habitually\nfeel, and at notable intervals we must actually elicit, sentiments of\nadoration and praise, of thanksgiving, of submission, of loyalty and\nlove, as creatures to their Creator, and as vassals to their very good\nLord, for He is our Creator and Lord in the natural order, not to say\nanything here of the supernatural filiation, by which, as the Church\nsays, \"we dare\" to call God \"Our Father.\"\n\n2. We must also express these sentiments by outward act. All the signs\nof reverence, which man pays to his human superior, must be paid to\nGod \"with advantages\": bowing passes into prostration, uncovering the\nhead into kneeling, kissing the hand into offering of incense: not\nthat these particular developments are necessary, but some such\ndevelopment must take place. We shall not be content to think\nreverential thoughts, but we shall say, or even sing, great things of\nGod's greatness and our indebtedness and duty: such a vocal exercise\nis psalmody. We shall represent in symbolic action our dependence on\nthe Lord of life and death, and also our sinfulness, for which He\nmight justly strike us dead: such a representation is sacrifice.\n\n3. All this we must do, first, for the sake of our own souls, minds\nand hearts, to quicken the inward sentiment of adoration and praise.\n\"Worship, mostly of the silent sort,\" worship, that finds no\nexpression in word or gesture,--worship away from pealing organs and\nchants of praise, or the simpler music of the human voice, where no\nhands are uplifted, nor tongues loosened, nor posture of reverence\nassumed, becomes with most mortals a vague, aimless reverie, a course\nof distraction, dreaminess, and vacancy of mind, no more worth than\nthe meditations of the Lancashire stone-breaker, who was asked what he\nthought of during his work,--\"Mostly nowt.\"\n\n4. Again, what the body is to the soul, that is exterior devotion to\ninterior. From the soul interior devotion springs, and through the\nbody it manifests itself. Exterior devotion, without the inward spirit\nthat quickens it, is worship unprofitable and dead: it tends at once\nto corruption, like the body when the soul has left it. Interior\ndevotion, on the other hand, can exist, though not with its full\ncomplement, without the exterior. So that it is only in the union of\nthe two together that perfect worship is given to God by men as men.\nUpon which St. Thomas has this na\u00efve remark, that \"they who blame\nbodily observances being paid to God, evidently fail to remember that\nthey themselves are men.\"\n\nThus we pay tithe to God for soul and body, by acts of religion\ninterior and exterior. But man is, under God, the lord of this earth\nand of the fulness thereof. He must pay tithe for that too by devoting\nsome portion of it to the direct service of God, to whom it all\nprimarily belongs. For \"mine is the gold and mine the silver.\" (Aggeus\nii. 9.) Such are the words that God spoke through His prophet to\nincite His people to restore his sanctuary.\n\n6. It is therefore not true to say that the sole reason of outward\nworship is to move the worshipper to interior devotion. It is not true\nthat St. Peter's at Rome, and Cologne Cathedral, and the Duomo of\nMilan, with all their wealth and elaborate ceremonial, exist and are\nkept up solely because, things of earth as we are, we cannot be\ndepended upon to praise God lovingly within the white-washed walls of\na conventicle, or according to the simple ritual of the Society of\nFriends. We would not, even if we could, pray habitually among such\nsurroundings, where we could afford to better them. We have before us\nthe principle of St. Thomas (1a 2\u00e6, q. 24, art. 3, in corp.):\n\n\"Since man's good consists in reason as in its root, the more actions\nproper to man are performed under the direction of reason, the more\nperfect will man's good be. Hence no one doubts that it belongs to the\nperfection of moral good, that the actions of our bodily members\nshould be directed by the law of reason, ... as also that the passions\nof the soul should be regulated by reason.\"\n\nThis means, not merely that if the bodily members or the passions stir\nat all, it is a good and desirable thing for them to be ruled by\nreason; but further that it is a positive addition to human perfection\nthat they should stir and be active, provided reason guide them.\n(_Ethics_, c. iv., s. i., n. 6, p. 45.)\n\nIt certainly is an action proper to man to express in gesture, in\nvoice, in concert and company with his fellow-men, and by employment\nof whatever is best and fairest and brightest under his command in the\nmaterial creation, his inward affections of loyalty, of homage and\ndevotion, of awe and reverence, of gratitude and love to his Creator.\n\nGood as these affections are in the heart of the worshipper, they\nreceive an external complement of goodness and perfection by being\nblazoned forth in vocal utterance, singing, bending of knees,--by the\nerection and embellishment of temples, and offerings of gold, silver,\nprecious stones, and incense,--and by men thronging those temples in\nmultitudes for social worship,--provided always that the inward\ndevotion of the heart be there, to put a soul into these outward\ndemonstrations and offerings.\n\n7. Concerning these religious observances interior and exterior, it is\nas idle to pretend that they are _useful_ to Almighty God as it is\nirrelevant to object that they are _useless_ to Him. Of course they\nare useless to Him. All creation is useless to God. A Being who can\nnever receive any profit, increment, or gain, dwells not within the\nregion of utilities. Theologians indeed distinguish between intrinsic\nand extrinsic glory, that is, between the glory which God gives\nHimself by His own contemplation of His own essence, and the glory\nwhich His creatures give Him. They say that God is thus capable of\nextrinsic increment, to which increment the praise and worship of His\ncreatures is useful. But, after all, they are fain to avow that the\nwhole of this extrinsic increment and glory is no real gain to God,\ngiving Him nothing but what He had before in an infinitely more\nexcellent mode and manner from and of Himself. Thus it appears that\nthe extrinsic glory of God, to which the worship paid Him by man\ncontributes, is valued, not because it is properly _useful to Him_,\nbut because He is most properly and highly _worthy of it_. \"Thou art\nworthy, O Lord our God, to receive glory and honour and power: because\nthou hast created all things, and for thy will they were, and have\nbeen created.\" (Apoc. iv. II.) And being worthy of this glory, He\nwills to have it, and does most strictly exact it, for which reason He\nis called in the Scripture _a jealous God_. So those who reflect some\nsparkle of God's Majesty, and under some aspect represent His person\nupon the earth, as do princes, lay and ecclesiastical, have many\nobservances of honour and respect paid to them, which are not _useful_\nas supplying a _need_--for who needs a salute of twenty-one guns?\nnevertheless their dignity is _worthy_ of them, and they require them\naccordingly.\n\n8. What man feels strongly, he expresses in word and action. What all\nmen feel strongly, they express by meeting together for the purpose.\nSo that, if strong religious feeling is an element in every good and\nreasonable man's character, it is bound to find expression, and that a\nsocial expression. Men must worship together according to some\nexternal form and ritual. God may reveal what He wills that ritual to\nbe. In fact He did give such a revelation and prescription to the\nJews. To Christians He has spoken in His Son, and still speaks in His\nChurch. Any other than the one sacrifice that He has instituted, or\nany other public religious ritual than is approved by the religious\nauthority which He has established, is to Him of itself, and apart\nfrom the invincibly erroneous devotion of them that pay it, an\nabomination: for He has \"not chosen it.\" Still we cannot say that, in\nevery possible state of things, God is bound to reveal the ritual that\nHe desires, or is bound Himself to designate the authority that shall\nfix the ritual which alone He will accept and allow of. If the will of\nGod is not thus expressed, a ritual must still be drawn up. In a\nmatter that excites the mind, as religion does, and where a large\nfield is open for hallucination and eccentricity, it will not do to\nhave individuals parading methods of worship of their own invention.\nHere the Greek maxim comes in, [Greek: tima tho daimonion katha tha\npatria], \"honour the Deity after the fashion of thy country.\"\nReligious authorities must be set up, in the same way that the civil\npower is set up. These authorities will determine, not the object, but\nthe outward manner of worship. Every great nation, or important member\nof the human family, would come probably to have its own\ncharacteristic rite; and within each rite there would be local\nvarieties.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., _Contra Gentiles_, iii., 119; 2a 2\u00e6, q. 81,\nart. 4, in corp.; _ib_., q. 81, art. 7 _ib_., q. 84, art. 2: _ib_., q.\n85, art. 1, in corp., ad 1, 3; _ib_., q. 91.\n\n\nSECTION II.--_Of Superstitious Practices_.\n\n\n1. Superstition is the abuse of religion. It is superstition, either\nto worship false gods, or to worship the true God with unauthorized\nrites, or to have dealings with wicked spirits, whether those spirits\nhave once animated human bodies or not. Of the first head, the only\navowed instance within our civilization is the Positivist worship of\nthe _Great Being_, that is, of the collective Worthies of Humanity, if\nindeed it amounts to worship. The second head might have been\nmeditated by Archbishop Cranmer with advantage, when he was drawing up\nthe Edwardine Ordinal. Under the third head comes Spiritualism, which\nwe shall here not discuss in detail, but merely indicate certain\nprinciples upon which it must be judged.\n\n2. \"There is nothing superstitious or unlawful in simply applying\nnatural agencies to the production of certain effects, of which they\nare supposed to be naturally capable.... We must consider whether\nthere is a fair appearance of the cause being able to produce the\neffect naturally. If there is, the experiment will not be unlawful:\nfor it is lawful to use natural causes in order to their proper\neffects.\" (2a 2\u00e6, q. 96, art. 2, in corp., ad 1.) But this we must\nunderstand under two provisos. First, that the \"fair appearance\"\nspoken of be not opposed by a considerable force of evidence, whether\nof authority or of reason, tending the other way: for in this matter,\nwhich is not a mere matter of legality, it is not permissible to run\nrisks of becoming familiar with God's enemies. Secondly, that the\ncause, though natural, be not morally prejudicial. Not even a natural\ncause, brandy for instance, may be used to all its effects. Thus for\nthe mesmeric sleep, though that should be proved to be purely natural,\nyet the weakening of the will thence ensuing, and the almost\nirresistible dominion acquired by the operator over his patient,\nrender it imperative that such a remedy should not be applied without\ngrave necessity, and under an operator of assured moral character.\n\n3. St. Thomas continues in the place last quoted: \"Wherefore, if there\nis no fair appearance of the causes employed being able to produce\nsuch effects, it needs must be that they are not employed to the\ncausation of these effects as causes, but only as signs, and thus they\ncome under the category of preconcerted signals arranged with evil\nspirits.\"\n\nThe modern Spiritualist is only too forward to avow his understanding\nwith the unseen powers; but he will have it that the spirits that he\ndeals with are good and harmless. We must prove the spirits by the\ngeneral effects of their communications--whether they be in accordance\nwith the known laws of morality, and the assured teachings of\nreligion, natural and revealed. Also we must consider, from what we\nknow from approved sources concerning God, and His holy angels, and\nthe spirits of the just, either already made perfect, or still\nsuffering for a time, whether they are likely to respond to such signs\nas Spiritualists commonly employ. Also we must not ignore, what\nrevelation tells us, of an \"enemy,\" a \"father of lies,\" who \"changes\nhimself into an angel of light,\" and who is ever ready, so far as it\nis permitted him, to eke out curiosity, folly, and credulity, such as\nhe found in Eve.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 93; _ib_., q. 95, art. 4, in corp.\n\n\nSECTION III.--_Of the duty of knowing God_.\n\n\n1. Religious worship is bound to its object, and cannot possibly be\nfixed in the hearts of men and the institutions of society, if the\nobject be doubtful and fluctuating. False religion has often been set\noff with elaborate and gorgeous ceremonial, which has been kept up\neven after the performers had come to see in all that light and lustre\na mere vain and unsubstantial show. Such were the rites of Roman\npolytheism, as enacted by augurs and pontiffs, the colleagues of\nCicero and C\u00e6sar. But though that worship was maintained, and even\naugmented, for political purposes, without a creed, yet never could it\nhave arisen without some creed, however mistaken, earnestly held of\nold. A firm interior conviction is the starting-point of all outward\nworship. But if the modern living worshipper is without creed and\nconviction; if he be a scoffer at heart, or at least a doubter; what a\nhollow, horrid skeleton thing is his religion,--all the more horrid,\nthe grander its dress! That is not worship, but mummery.\n\n2. If then to worship God is a duty, as we have proved, it is a duty\nlikewise to know God. This supposes that God is knowable, a fact which\nit does not lie within the province of this work to prove. To an\nunknown God, all the worship we could render would be to build Him an\naltar, without priest, prayer, or sacrifice, and so leave Him in His\nsolitude. God is knowable by the _manifestation_ of His works (Rom. i.\n19); and where He is pleased to speak, by the _revelation_ of His\nword. Apart from revelation--and, under a certain order of Providence,\nGod might have left us without revelation--we should study our Creator\nas He is made manifest in the world around us, in the existence of\nperishable things, in the order of the universe, in the region of\nthings eternally possible and knowable, in moral truths, in the mental\nlife and conscience of man. Philosophy would be our guide in the\nsearch after God. Men with less leisure or ability for speculation\nwould acquiesce in the pronouncements of philosophers on things\ndivine; and, in the hypothesis which we are contemplating, Providence\nwould doubtless arrange for the better agreement and harmony of\nphilosophers among themselves. Their trumpet would not send forth so\nuncertain a blast, were that the instrument, in the counsels of God,\nwhereby the whole duty of religion was to be regulated. As it is, we\nknow better than philosophy could teach us: for God hath spoken in His\nSon.\n\n_Readings_.--_C. Gent_., i., 4; 1a 2\u00e6, q. 91, art. 4, in corp.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nOF THE DUTY OF PRESERVING LIFE.\n\nSECTION I.--_Of Killing, Direct and Indirect_.\n\n\n1. In a hilly country, two or three steps sometimes measure all the\ninterval between the basins of two rivers, whose mouths are miles\napart. In the crisis of an illness the merest trifle will turn the\nscale between death and recovery. In a nice point of law and intricate\nprocedure, the lawyer is aware that scarcely more than the thickness\nof the paper on which he writes lies between the case going for his\nclient or for the opposite party. To rail at these fine technicalities\nargues a lay mind, unprofessional and undiscerning. _Hair-splitting_,\nso far as it is a term of real reproach, means splitting the wrong\nhairs. The expert in any profession knows what things to divide and\ndistinguish finely, and what things to take in the gross. Moral\nScience in many respects gives its demonstrations, and can give them,\nonly \"in the way of rough drawing,\" as Aristotle says. ([Greek:\npachulos kai tupo], _Ethics_, I., iii., 4.) But there are lines of\ndivision exceeding fine and nice in natural morality no less than in\npositive law. The student must not take scandal at the fine lines and\nsubtle distinctions that we shall be obliged to draw in marking off\nlawful from unlawful action touching human life.\n\n2. _It is never lawful directly to kill an innocent man_. Understand\n_innocent_ in the social and political sense, of a man who has not, by\nany _human act_ (_Ethics_, c. i., n. 2, p. 1) of his own, done any\nharm to society so grievous as to compare with loss of life. To kill,\nor work any other effect, _directly_, is to bring about that death, or\nother effect, willing the same, _either as an end desirable in\nitself_, as when a man slays his enemy, whose death of its own sheer\nsake is to him a satisfaction and a joy, or _as a means to an end_, as\nRichard III. murdered his nephews to open his own way to the throne.\nWe must then in no case compass the death of the innocent, either\n_intending_ it as an _end_, or _choosing_ it as a _means_. The\nassertion is proved by these considerations. To kill a man is to\ndestroy the human nature within him: for, though the soul survives, he\nis man no more when he is dead. Now to destroy a thing is to\nsubordinate that thing entirely to your self and your own purposes:\nfor that individual thing can never serve any other purpose, once it\nis destroyed. The man that is killed is then subordinated to the\nslayer, wholly given up, and as we say, _sacrificed_, to the aims and\npurposes of him who slays him. But that ought not to be, for man is a\n_person_. Body and soul in him make one person, one personal nature,\nwhich _human personality_ is destroyed in death. Now it is the\nproperty of a person to be what we may call _autocentric_, referring\nits own operations to itself as to a centre. Every _person_--and every\nintelligent nature is a person [Footnote 17]--exists and acts\nprimarily for himself. A _thing_ is marked off from a _person_ by the\naptitude of being another's and for another. We may venture to\ndesignate it by the term _heterocentric_. A person therefore may\ndestroy a thing, entirely consume and use it up for his own benefit.\nBut he may not treat a person as a thing, and destroy that, either for\nany end of pleasure that he finds in destroying it, or in view of any\ngain or good, whereunto that destruction serves him as a means.\n\n[Footnote 17: The exception apparent in the Incarnation is not\nrelevant here.]\n\n3. In the above argumentation account has not been taken of God, to\nwhom for His sovereign dominion all created personalities stand in the\nlight of _things_, and may be destroyed at His pleasure. But account\nhas been taken of the State, to which the individual is subordinate as\na citizen, but not as a man and a person. It is permitted no more to\nthe State than to the individual ever to destroy the innocent\n_directly_.\n\n4. An effect is brought about _indirectly_, when it is neither\n_intended_ as an _end_ for its own sake, nor _chosen_ as a _means_\nmaking towards an end, but attaches as a circumstance concomitant\neither to the end intended or to the means chosen. The case of a\ncircumstance so attaching to the means chosen is the only case that we\nneed consider here in speaking of _indirect_, _concomitant_, or\n_incidental_ effects. The study of these incidents is of vast\nimportance to the moralist. Most cases of practical difficulty to\ndecide between right and wrong, arise out of them. They are best\nillustrated in the manner of killing. That one matter, well worked\nout, becomes a pattern for other matters in which they occur.\n(_Ethics_, c. iii., s. ii., p. 31.)\n\n5. A man is killed _indirectly_, or _incidentally_, when he perishes\nin consequence of certain means employed towards a certain end,\nwithout his death being willed by the employer of those means, or in\nany way serving that agent to the furtherance of the end that he has\nin view. If a visitor to a quarry were standing on a piece of rock,\nwhich a quarryman had occasion to blast, and the man fired the train\nregardless of the visitor, the latter would be _incidentally_ killed.\nNow incidental killing, even of the innocent, is not under all\ncircumstances unlawful. Where the end in view is in the highest degree\nimportant, the means may be taken thereto, provided always that such\nan issue as the shedding of innocent blood be not itself the means\ndiscerned and elected as furthering the end: for no end however urgent\ncan justify the employment of any evil means. (_Ethics_, c. iii., s.\nii., nn. 3, 13, pp. 32, 36.) Suppose in the instance just given the\nquarryman saw that, unless that piece of rock where the visitor stood\nwere blown up instantly, a catastrophe would happen elsewhere, which\nwould be the death of many men, and there were no time to warn the\nvisitor to clear off, who could blame him if he applied the explosive?\nThe means of averting the catastrophe would be, not that visitor's\ndeath, but the blowing up of the rock. The presence or absence of the\nvisitor, his death or escape, is all one to the end intended: it has\nno bearing thereon at all.\n\n6. We must then distinguish between _means_ and _circumstances_. The\nmeans help to the end, the circumstances of the means do not. When the\nend is of extreme urgency, circumstances may be disregarded: the means\nbecome morally divested of them. So I have seen an island in a river,\na nucleus of rock with an environment of alluvial soil. While the\nstream was flowing placidly in its usual course, the island remained\nintact, both rock and earth. But when the water came rushing in a\nflood, which was as though the island itself had gone speeding up the\nriver, the loose matter at its sides was carried away, and only the\ncentral rock remained. The ordinary flow of the river past the island,\nor the gentle motion of the island up-stream, keeping all its bulk,\nrepresents a man acting for an end to which reason attaches no great\nimportance. He must then take a diligent review of all the\ncircumstances that have any close connection with his action, to see\nif there is any that it would be wrong for him to will directly. And\nif there is, he must abstain from willing it even indirectly: that is,\nhe must abstain from doing the action, which cannot be done without\nthat objectionable circumstance attending it. On the other hand, the\nfloating island being towed rapidly up-stream, with its loose sides\nfalling away, portrays the condition of one acting for a purpose of\nimperative urgency: he considers the means to that end, and if they\nare good, he concentrates his will upon them and uses them,\ndisregarding, or even deploring, but nowise willing or being\nresponsible for, the evil concomitants which go with those means, but\ndo not make for his end. Thus it is, that a circumstance which in\nordinary cases goes to make the adoption of certain means reasonable\nor unreasonable, comes, in a case of great urgency, to weigh for\nnothing in the balance of reason, owing to the extreme and crying\nreasonableness of the end in view. Nor is this the end justifying the\nmeans, for that unhappy circumstance is never a means to the end.\n(_Ethics_, c. iii., s. ii., n. 8, p. 34.)\n\n7. To illustrate by a diagram:\n\n[Illustration:\n\n   C\n (   )\n   U\n   |\n   |\n   A-----------------------------------E(   )V\n]\n\nA, the _agent_, a bead on a wire, can move only on the line AE, that\nalone being the line of means to the end.\n\nEV, _reasonableness of end in view_, attracting A.\n\nUC, the amount of moral evil which the _untoward circumstance_ would\ninvolve, if it were willed directly. This UC repels A, tending to jam\nit on the line AE, which is absolutely rigid.\n\nAE, remoteness, difficulty, and uncertainty of the end in view.\n\nAU, remoteness of untoward circumstance from means chosen, which A is\njust in the act of taking. Then, for lawful action, the reasonableness\nrequired in the end in view is represented by the variation--\n\n[Illustration:\n              UC . AE\n  EV *varies* -------\n                AU\n]\n\nWe observe that when AU is zero, while UC . AE remains a finite\nquantity (representing an appreciable evil), then EV becomes infinite:\nthat is to say, when the distance, difference, or distinction between\nthe evil circumstance and the means comes down to nothing at all, and\nthe evil thing actually is the very means taken, then an infinite\nurgency of end in view would be requisite to justify the using of that\nmeans: in other words, no end possible to man can ever justify an evil\nmeans.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q.64, art. 6; Cardinal de Lugo, _De\nJustitia et Jure_, disp. 10, n. 125.\n\n\nSECTION II.--_Of Killing done Indirectly in Self-defence_.\n\n\n1. On the question, whether it is lawful for one man to kill another\nin self-defence, St. Thomas writes (2a 2\u00e6, q. 64, art. 7):\n\n\"There is nothing to hinder one act having two effects, of which one\nonly is within the intention [and election] of the doer, while the\nother is beside his intention [and election, that is, is neither\nintended as an end nor elected as a means].... From the act therefore\nof one defending himself a twofold effect may follow, one the\npreservation of his own life, the other the killing of the aggressor.\nNow such an act, in so far as the preservation of the doer's own life\nis intended, has no taint of evil about it, seeing that it is natural\nto everything to preserve itself in being as much as it can.\nNevertheless, an act coming of a good intention may be rendered\nunlawful, if it be not in proportion to the end in view. And\ntherefore, if any one uses greater violence than is necessary for the\ndefence of his life, it will be unlawful. But if he repels the\nviolence in a moderate way, it will be a lawful defence: for according\nto the Civil and Canon Laws it is allowable _to repel force by force\nwith the moderation of a blameless defence_. Nor is it necessary to\nsalvation for a man to omit the act of moderate defence in order to\navoid the killing of another; because man is more bound to take\nthought for his own life than for the life of his neighbour. But\nbecause to kill a man is not allowable except by act of public\nauthority for the common good, it is unlawful for a man to intend\n[that is, elect and choose as a means] to kill another man in order to\ndefend himself, unless he be one who has public authority, who\nintending [electing] to kill a man in order to his own defence, refers\nthis to the public good.\"\n\n2. The right then of self-defence even to the shedding of blood\ninvolves a mere exercise of indirect killing for a proportionably\ngrave cause. The cause in question is the defence of your own life, or\nyour friend's, or of some other good or possession that can weigh with\nlife, as the honour and inviolability of your person, or a large sum\nof money. This must be in present danger of being taken away otherwise\nthan in due course of justice. The danger must be present, and even\nimminent, not prospective. The right of self-defence even to the\ngrievous harming of the aggressor, endures only while the danger from\nhim is imminent, not when it is past, or the evil is already done. The\nright supposes no moral obliquity, no formal injustice on the part of\nthe aggressor: he may be a madman making for you with a drawn sword.\nNay further, not even _material_ injustice--that is, the quality of an\nact which would be _formally_ unjust, if only the agent knew what he\nwas about--is required. All that is requisite is that your life, or\nsomething equivalent to life, be threatened, _not in due course of\nlaw_.\n\n3. The essential idea of self-defence is that of stopping a\ntrespasser, one who, however innocently, is going about to trench on\nthat good which you have a right to maintain and reserve to yourself.\nIt is then no act of authority that you perform, but the dealing of\none private person with another. Indeed, the party stopped is hardly\nregarded as a person: no account is taken of his demerits: he is\nregarded simply as an abridger and diminisher of what you have a right\nto preserve intact. You stop a man as you stop a horse, only with more\nregard to _the moderation of a blameless self-defence_, not using more\nviolence than is necessary here and now to preserve what you have to\npreserve.\n\n4. The stopping, unfortunately, has often to be done in a hurry: there\nis no time to wait: for the next moment, unless you act promptly, it\nwill be all too late, or all to no purpose, to act at all. Being done\nin a hurry, it has to be done in a rough-and-ready way, with such\ninstruments as are to hand: you cannot afford to be nice about the\nmeans, carefully purifying them, and shaking off the dust of\nobjectionable circumstances. Now to stop a man in mid career all on a\nsudden, to render him powerless where he was about to strike,\nmotionless in the direction whither he was about to go, and that in an\ninstant, is of common necessity a rude treatment, very dangerous to\nhim who experiences it, and under some conceivable circumstances\nhopelessly fatal. Still the fatality--in plain words, the death of the\naggressor--is not _directly willed_. It is neither _intended_ as an\n_end_, nor _chosen_ as a _means to an end_. It is not welcomed as an\nend and desirable consummation: on the contrary, it is put up with\nmost reluctantly as coming from your act: for you, a private\nindividual, have no right to will and effect the death of any man,\nhowever guilty, as will be proved hereafter. It is not chosen as a\nmeans: for, formally as his death, it is no means to your end, which\nwas the averting of all present danger to your right. For that it was\nenough to _stop_ the trespasser; and you chose the means as a\n_stopping_ means, not as a _killing_ means. True, in stopping him you\nkilled him, but you did not kill him to stop him. You struck him to\nstop him: that your blow was a mortal blow, was a circumstance which\nyou did not choose and could not help. All killing then in\nself-defence is indirect.\n\n5. By this explanation, resting on St. Thomas--in opposition to\nCardinal de Lugo (_De Just. et Jure_. 10, 149) and others, who allow\nkilling in self-defence to be the actual means chosen, and therefore\ndirectly willed--we save four grand positions in Moral Science:\n\n(a) The axiom, that _it is never lawful directly to take the life of\nan innocent man_. For the person who perishes by occasion of your\ndefending yourself, may be innocent _formally_, and even _materially_\nalso.\n\n(b) Likewise the axiom, that _it is never lawful for a private\nindividual to kill any one whatever_. We say, from a technical\nstandpoint, that he does not _kill_ but _arrests the onset of_ the\naggressor.\n\n(c) We are in hearty accord with the positive law of all civilized\ncountries, which views with extreme suspicion all deaths said to be\ndone in self-defence, the law being jealous of the blood of its\ncitizens, and reserving the shedding thereof to itself. We teach that\nonly by process of law can a man ever be directly slain, his death\nmade a means of, and the person, who strikes him, really willing and\nseeking, exactly speaking, to kill him.\n\n(d) The initial error is revealed of a theory that we shall have to\ncombat at length hereafter, the theory of Hobbes and Locke, that the\npower of the State is the mere agglomeration of the powers of the\nindividuals who compose it. It appears by our explanation that the\nindividual has no power strictly to take life in any case, or ever to\nkill directly, as the State does when it executes a criminal.\n\nAs a fifth point gained, we may mention the efficacious argument\nafforded, as will presently be shown, against the acceptance of a duel\nunder any conceivable circumstances, a thesis otherwise not easy to\nestablish by reason.\n\n6. In view of the question of the origin of civil government, we must\ncarefully collect the differences between self-defence and punishment.\nDeath occasioned in self-defence is _indirect_: death inflicted as\npunishment is _direct_. Punishment is an act of _authority_, of\n_distributive justice_, which lies from ruler to subject (_Ethics_, c.\nv., s. ix., n. 4, p. 104): self-defence is of equal against equal.\nPunishment is _medicinal_ to him who suffers it, or _deterrent_ on\nbehalf of the community, or _retributive_ in the way of vengeance.\n(_Ethics_, c. ix., s. iii., n. 4.) Self-defence is not on behalf of\nthe community, still less for the good of the aggressor, but for the\ngood of him who practises it and for the preservation of his right:\nneither is it retributive and retrospective, as vengeance is, but\nsimply prospective and preventive of a harm immediately imminent.\nFinally, the right to punish abides day and night: but the right of\nself-defence holds only while instant aggression is threatened.\n\n7. These two diverse ideas of _self-defence_ and _vengeance_ were\nconfounded by the Greeks under the one verb [Greek: amunesthai]. They\nare confounded by Mill, _On Utility_, in the fifth chapter where he\nspeaks (p. 77) of the \"instinct of self-defence,\" which nine lines\nbelow he converts into \"the natural feeling of retaliation or\nvengeance.\" It is a common but a grave mistake, and the parent of much\nbad philosophy.\n\n_Reading_.--St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 64, art. 7.\n\n\nSECTION III.--_Of Suicide_.\n\n\n1. By suicide we shall here understand the _direct compassing of one's\nown death_, which is an act never lawful. There is no difficulty in\nseeing the unlawfulness of suicide for ordinary cases. The world could\nnot go on, if men were to kill themselves upon every slight\ndisappointment. But neither are they likely so to do. It is the hard\ncases, where men are apt to lay violent hands on themselves, that put\nthe moralist on his mettle to restrain them by reasons. Why should not\nthe solitary invalid destroy himself, he whose life has become a\nhopeless torture, and whose death none would mourn? Why should not a\nvoluntary death be sought as an escape from temptation and from\nimminent sin? Why should not the first victims of a dire contagion\nacquiesce in being slaughtered like cattle? Or if it be deemed\nperilous to commit the departure from life to each one's private whim\nand fancy, why not have the thing licensed under certificate of three\nclergymen and four doctors, who could testify that it is done on good\ngrounds?\n\n2. To all these questions there is one good answer returned by Paley\non the principle of General Consequences. (_Ethics_, c. x., n. 3, p.\n178.)\n\n\"The true question of this argument is no other than this: May every\nman who chooses to destroy his life, innocently do so? Limit and\ndistinguish the subject as you can, it will come at last to this\nquestion. For, shall we say that we are then at liberty to commit\nsuicide, when we find our continuance in life becomes useless to\nmankind? Any one who pleases, may make himself useless; and melancholy\nminds are prone to think themselves useless when they really are not\nso.... In like manner, whatever other rule you assign, it will\nultimately bring us to an indiscriminate toleration of suicide, in all\ncases in which there is danger of its being committed. It remains,\ntherefore, to enquire what would be the effect of such a toleration:\nevidently, the loss of many lives to the community, of which some\nmight be useful or important; the affliction of many families, and the\nconsternation of all: for mankind must live in continual alarm for the\nfate of their friends, when every disgust which is powerful enough to\ntempt men to suicide, shall be deemed sufficient to justify it.\"\n(_Moral Philosophy_, bk. iv., c. iii.)\n\nA word in confirmation of Paley on the plan of the medico-clerical\ncertificate. There would be doctors, and I fear clergymen too, who\nwould get a name for giving these certificates easily: under their\nhand many a patient might be smothered by his attendants with or\nwithout his own consent. Many another wretch would consider, that if\nthe learned and reverend gentlemen empowered to license his departure\nfrom life only felt what he had to endure, there would be no\ndifficulty about the certificate: so he would depart on presumed\nleave. The whole effect would be to make men less tender of their own\nlives, and by consequence of those of others, to the vast unsettling\nof society.\n\n3. An argument from general consequences, however, does not go down\ninto the depths of things. There is always something morally crooked\nand inordinate in an action itself, the general consequences whereof\nare bad. It remains to point out the moral crookedness, inordination,\nand unreasonableness, that is intrinsic to the act of suicide, apart\nfrom its consequences. We find the inordination in this, that suicide\nis an act falling upon undue matter, being an act destructive of that\nwhich the agent has power over only to preserve. It is natural to\nevery being, animate and inanimate, to the full extent of its entity\nand power, to maintain itself, and to resist destruction as long as it\ncan. This is the struggle for existence, one of the primary laws of\nnature. Man has intelligence and power over himself, that he may\nconduct his own struggle well and wisely. He may struggle more or\nless, as he sees expedient, looking to higher goods even than\nself-preservation in this mortal life: but he may not take that power\nof managing himself, which nature invests him with for his\npreservation, and use it to his own destruction. Should he do so, he\nperverts the natural order of his own being, and thereby sins.\n(_Ethics_, c. vi., s. i., nn. 1-5, p. 109.)\n\n4. It may be objected, that man is only bound to self-preservation so\nlong as life is a blessing; that, when the scale of death far\noutweighs that of life in desirableness, it is cruelty to himself to\npreserve his life any longer, and a kindness to himself to destroy it;\nthat in such a plight, accordingly, it is not unnatural for a man to\nput himself, not so much out of life as out of misery. To this\nargument it is sometimes answered that, whereas death is the greatest\nof evils, it is foolish and wicked to resort to dying as a refuge\nagainst any other calamity. But this answer proves too much. It would\nshow that it is never lawful even to wish for death: whereas under\nmany conditions, such as those now under consideration, death is a\nconsummation devoutly to be wished, and may be most piously desired,\nas a gain and by comparison a good: as Ecclesiasticus says (xxx. 17):\n\"Better is death than a bitter life, and everlasting rest than\ncontinual sickness.\" The truth seems to be, that there are many things\nhighly good and desirable in themselves, which become evil when\ncompassed in a particular way. The death of a great tyrant or\npersecutor may be a blessing to the universe, but his death by the\nhand of an assassin is an intolerable evil. So is death, as the\nschoolmen say, _in facto esse_, and everlasting rest, better than a\nbitter life, but not death _in fieri_, when that means dying by your\nown hand. There the unnaturalness comes in and the irrationality. A\nmother, watching the death agony of her son, may piously wish it over:\nbut it were an unmotherly act to lay her own hand on his mouth and\nsmother him. To lay violent hands on oneself is abidingly cruel and\nunnatural, more so than if the suicide's own mother slew him.\n\n5. But though a man may not use actual violence against his own\nperson, may he not perhaps cease to preserve himself, abstain from\nfood, as the Roman noble did, in the tortures of the gout, and by\nabstaining end them? I answer, a man's taking food periodically is as\nmuch part of his life as the coursing of the blood in his veins. It is\ndoing himself no less violence to refuse food ready to hand, when he\nis starving, on purpose that he may starve, than to open a vein on\npurpose to bleed to death. This, when the food is readily accessible:\nthe case is otherwise when it is not procurable except by\nextraordinary means.\n\n6. Another consideration. To destroy a thing is the exclusive right of\nthe owner and master of the same. If therefore man is his own master,\nin the sense that no one else can claim dominion over him, may he not\naccordingly destroy himself? The metaphysician will point out that\n_master_ denotes a relation, that every relation has two terms, that\nconsequently a man cannot be his own master any more than he can be\nhis own father; and that, not owning himself, he may not destroy\nhimself. But, leaving this metaphysical argument for what it is worth,\nwe observe that man has a Master, Owner, Proprietor, and Sovereign\nLord, God Almighty. To take your own life is to usurp the dominion of\nGod. It is wronging the Lord of life and death. But none is wronged\nagainst his will: God is willing that murderers should be hung, may He\nnot also be willing that men in misery should hang themselves? To this\nquery suffice it for the present to reply, that God governs us for our\ngood; and that capital punishment makes for the good of the community,\nbut never suicide. (c. viii., s. viii., n. 7, p. 349.)\n\n7. It was the doctrine of Aristotle and the Greeks, that the citizen\nbelongs to the State, and that therefore suicide was robbing the State\nand doing it a formal injury. But no modern State takes this view of\nits subjects. No modern mind would place suicide in the same category\nof crime with robbing the Exchequer.\n\n8. The great deterrent against suicide, in cases where misery meets\nwith recklessness, is the thought,\n\n  In that sleep of death what dreams may come!--\n\nabove all, the fear of being confronted with an angry God. Away from\nbelief in God's judgments and a future state, our arguments against\nsuicide may be good logic, but they make poor rhetoric for those who\nneed them most. Men are wonderfully imitative in killing themselves.\nOnce the practice is come in vogue, it becomes a rage, an epidemic.\nAtheism and Materialism form the best _nidus_ for the contagion of\nsuicide. It is a shrewd remark of Madame de Stael: \"Though there are\ncrimes of a darker hue than suicide, yet there is none other by which\nman seems so entirely to renounce the protection of God.\"\n\n_Readings_.--Ar., _Eth_., III., vii., 13; _ib_., V., xi., nn. 1-3; St.\nThos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 64, art. 5; St. Aug., _De Civitate Dei_, i., cc. 26,\n27; Paley, _Mor_. _Phil_., bk. iv., c. iii.\n\n\nSECTION IV.--_Of Duelling_.\n\n\n1. A duel may be defined: A meeting of two parties by private\nagreement to fight with weapons in themselves deadly. The meeting must\nbe _by agreement_: a chance meeting of Montagues and Capulets, where\nthe parties improvise a fight on the spot is not a duel. The agreement\nmust be _private_; anything arranged by public authority, as the\nencounter of David with Goliath, that in the legend of the Horatii and\nCuriatii, or the _wager of battle_ in the Middle Ages is not a duel.\nIt is enough that the weapons be _in themselves deadly_, as swords or\npistols, though there be an express stipulation not to kill: but a\npre-arranged encounter with fists, with foils with buttons on, or even\nperhaps with crab-sticks, is not a duel.\n\n2. The hard case in duelling is the case of him who receives the\nchallenge. Let us make the case as hard as possible. In a certain\narmy, every challenge sent to an officer is reported to a Court of\nHonour. If the Court decide that it ought to be accepted, accept the\nofficer must, or lose his commission and all hope of military\ndistinction. In this army, say, there is an officer of high promise\nwho is believed to object to duels on conscientious grounds. An enemy\npretends to have been insulted, and challenges him, on purpose to see\nhim refuse and have to go down into the ranks, his career spoilt. The\nCourt of Honour rules that the duel must come off. Of this very case,\nReiffenstuel, a canonist of repute, about the year 1700, writes:\n\n\"The answer is, ... that they who in such cases are so necessitated\nand constrained to offer, or accept, a duel, as that unless they\noffered, or accepted it, they would be held cowardly, craven, mean,\nand unfit to bear office in the army, and consequently would be\ndeprived of the office that they actually enjoy, and support\nthemselves and their family by, or would for ever forfeit all hope of\npromotion, otherwise their due and desert,--these I say in such a case\nare free from all fault and penalty, whether they offer or accept a\nduel.\" (In lib. v. decret., tit. 14, nn. 30, 31.)\n\nThe author protests in his Preface that he wishes his opinions \"all\nand each to be subject to the judgment, censure, and correction of the\nHoly Catholic Church.\" The opinion above quoted was condemned, word\nfor word as it was uttered, by Pope Benedict XIV. in 1752.\n\nNow for Reiffenstuel's reason. \"The reason,\" he says, \"is, because in\nsuch a case as is supposed the acceptance and offering of a duel is an\nabsolutely necessary, and thereby a just and lawful, defence of your\nreputation, or goods of fortune, and, by equivalence, even of your\nlife, against an unjust aggressor, who we suppose does you an injury,\nand thereby gives you no choice but to call him out, or calls you out,\nand accordingly assails you in words, &c. Hence, as for the needful\ndefence of reputation, or of goods of fortune of great consequence, it\nis lawful, with the moderation of a blameless defence, to kill an\nunjust aggressor, so it will be also lawful to offer and accept a\nduel, and therein slay the other party.\" Reiffenstuel here evidently\nsupposes that killing done in self-defence is _direct_. Those who\nagree with him on that point, proceed to draw differences between\nself-defence and accepting a challenge. Of course the two are not the\nsame. The true difficulty for them lies in making out how the reasons\nwhich justify self-defence in their view of it, do not also justify\nthe acceptance of a duel: how, if I may make another man's death a\nmeans to the preservation of my vital right, I may not as well make\nanother man's risk of death and my own, which is all that a duel\namounts to, also a _means_, none other being at hand, to the\npreserving of my no less vital right. This grave objection does not\ntouch us. We have denied that killing in self-defence is direct. On\nthe lines of that denial we meet Reiffenstuel's argument simply as\nfollows.\n\n3. In self-defence, the aggressor is slain _indirectly_. In a duel,\nnot indeed the death itself, or mutual slaughter of the combatants, is\n_directly_ willed, but the risk of mutual slaughter is directly\nwilled. But we may not directly will the risk of that which we may not\ndirectly do. And the combatants may not directly do themselves or one\nanother to death. Therefore they may not directly risk each his own\nand his antagonist's life. But this risk is of the essence of a duel.\nTherefore duelling is essentially unlawful.\n\n4. Such is the clenched fist, so to speak, of our argument. Now to\nopen it out, and prove in detail the several members. In self-defence,\nneither the death of the aggressor nor the risk of his death is\ndirectly willed, whereas the risk of death is directly willed in a\nduel, which difference entirely bars the argument from self-defence to\nduelling. For a duel is a means of recovering and preserving honour,\nwhich is effected by a display of fortitude, which again consists in\nexposing yourself to the risk of being killed, and, as part of the\nbargain, of killing the other man. The risk to life is of the essence\nof a duel: it only attains its end--of establishing a man's character\nfor courage--by being dangerous to life. Fortitude essentially\nconsists in braving death. (_Ethics_, c. v., s. viii., n. 1, p. 94.)\nDeadly weapons, chosen because they are deadly and involve a risk of\nlife in fighting with such arms, are the apt and express means for\nshowing readiness to brave death. If the weapons were not deadly,\nthere would be no point in the duel. As a matter of fact, where our\ndefinition of duel is verified, and weapons in themselves deadly are\nused, the encounter cannot be other than dangerous, especially between\nfoes and where the blood is up. In the French army, where the\nregimental fencing-master stands by, sword in hand, ready to parry any\ntoo dangerous thrust, serious results still have occurred. If any man\nwill have it that short smooth-bore pistols at forty paces in a fog\nare not to be counted dangerous weapons, all we can say is that MM.\nGambetta and De Fourton, the one being nearly blind, and the other\nhaving lost an eye, did not fight a duel. In a duel then the danger of\nbeing killed and of killing is _directly_ willed; it is the precise\n_means chosen_ to the end in view.\n\n5. We have proved already that it is not lawful directly to procure\none's own death, nor the death of another innocent man. If any one\ncontends that his antagonist is not innocent, not even in a\n_political_ sense (c. ii., s. i., n. 2, p. 203), we must here assume\nagainst him, what we shall afterwards prove, that the guilty are not\nto be _directly_ put to death except by public authority. But what we\nmay not directly bring about, we may not directly risk the occurrence\nof. As I may not throw myself down a cliff, so neither may I walk\nalong the edge precisely for the chance of a fall. I may often walk\nthere _with_ the chance of falling, but not _because_ of the chance.\nIt will be said that the English love of fox-hunting and Alpine\nclimbing is largely owing to the element of danger present in those\namusements. But it is not the danger pure and simple, that is chosen\nfor amusement: it is the prospect of overcoming danger by skill. The\nsame may be said of Blondin on the tight-rope: it was his skill, not\nhis mere risk, that was admired. There are some risks that no skill\ncan obviate, as those of Alpine avalanches. We may face a mountain\nslope where avalanches occur, but we must not hang about there because\nof the avalanches, making our amusement or bravado of the chance of\nbeing killed. That would be willing the risk of death _directly_, as\nit is willed in duelling.\n\n_Readings_.--Paley, _Mor. Phil._, bk. iii., p. 2, c. ix.; St. Thos.,\n2a 2\u00e6, q. 72, art. 3.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nOF SPEAKING THE TRUTH.\n\nSECTION I.--_Of the Definition of a Lie_.\n\n\n1. \"Let none doubt,\" says St. Augustine, \"that he lies, who utters\nwhat is false for the purpose of deceiving. Wherefore the utterance of\nwhat is false with a will to deceive is unquestionably a lie.\" The\nonly question is, whether this definition does not contain more than\nis necessary to the thing defined. The objective falseness of what is\nsaid makes a _material_ falsehood: the will to utter what is false\nmakes a _formal_ falsehood (_Ethics_, c. iii., s. ii., n. 7, p. 33):\nthe will to create a false impression regards, not the falsehood\nitself, but the effect to follow from it. If a person says what is not\ntrue, but what he takes to be the truth, he tells indeed a material\nlie, but at the same time he puts forth no _human act_ (_Ethics_, c.\ni., n. 2, p. 1) of lying. If on the other hand he says what he\nbelieves to be false, though it turns out true, he tells a formal lie,\nthough not a material one, and moreover, he does a _human act_ of\nlying. But _human acts_ are the subject-matter of morality. The\nmoralist therefore is content to define the _formal lie_: the\n_material_ aspect of the lie is irrelevant to his enquiry. A formal\nlie is saying what one believes not to be true, or promising what one\nintends not to perform: briefly, it is _speaking against one's mind_.\n\n2. We shall show presently that to speak against one's mind is\nintrinsically, necessarily, and always evil. But when a thing is thus\nevil in itself, there is no need to bring into the definition of the\nact, from a moral point of view, the intention with which it is done.\nThere is no use in prying into ends, when the means taken is an\nunlawful means for any end. If a person blasphemes, we do not ask why\nhe blasphemes: the intention is not part of the blasphemy: the\nutterance is a sin by itself. But if a person strikes, we ask why he\nstrikes, to heal or to slay, in self-defence or in revenge. So, if\nspeaking against one's mind is a thing indifferent and colourless in\npoint of morality, and all depends on the intention with which we do\nit, so that we may speak against our minds to put another off, but not\nto deceive him, then certainly the intention to deceive must be\nimported into the definition of lying. But if, as we shall prove\npresently, the act of so speaking is by no means indifferent and\ncolourless, but is fraught with an inordinateness all its own, then\nthe intention may be left out of the question, the act is to be\ncharacterised on its own merits, and _speech against one's mind_ is\nthe definition of a lie.\n\n3. Then, some one will say, it would be a lie for a prisoner in\nsolitary confinement to break the silence of his cell with the\nexclamation, _Queen Anne is not dead_. The answer is simple: it takes\ntwo to make a speech. A man does not properly speak to himself, nor\nquarrel with himself, nor deal justly by himself. Not that it would be\na lie to deny the death of Queen Anne even in public: for speech is an\noutward affirmation, the appearance of a serious will to apply\npredicate to subject: but in this case there is no appearance of a\nserious will: on the contrary, from the manifest absurdity of the\nassertion, it is plain that you are joking and do not mean to affirm\nanything. This perhaps is as far as we can go in permission of what\nare called _lies in jest_.\n\n_Readings_.--St Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 110, art. 1.\n\n\nSECTION II.--_Of the Evil of Lying_.\n\n\n1. Human society cannot go on, if men are to be allowed\nindiscriminately to lie to one another. Thucydides (iii., 83) gives as\nthe reason of the extravagant length to which faction ran in Greece in\nhis time: \"For there was no power to reconcile the parties, no\nplighted word reliable, no oath held in awe.\" Even in trifles no one\nlikes to be lied to, and we are not to do to our neighbour what we\nwould not have done to ourselves. The laws of good fellowship require\nthat we should \"put away lying, and speak the truth every man with his\nneighbour: for we are members one of another.\" (Ephesians iv. 25.)\nThis at least in ordinary circumstances. The same good fellowship\nrequires that in ordinary circumstances we should respect the lives\nand property of our fellow-men.\n\n2. But it is lawful to take life in pursuance of the just judgment of\nauthority: it is lawful to seize upon property in self-preservation.\nThese exceptions stand very harmoniously with the well-being of\nsociety, or rather are required by it, as we shall see later on. The\nlaw against lying, so far as it is founded on the general prejudice\ndone to society by the shock of social confidence, and on the\nparticular annoyance of the party lied to, may seem to admit of\nsimilar exceptions. Whoever has no reasonable objection to having life\nand property taken from him in certain contingencies, can he\nreasonably complain of any hurt or inconvenience that he may suffer\nfrom a lie being told him at times?\n\n3. I put forward this difficulty, not as though it were without its\nanswer in the principle of General Consequences: still it is a\ndifficulty. Besides, if the whole harm of lying is in the unpleasant\neffect wrought upon the deceived hearer, and the scandal and bad\nconsequences to society at large, it is a long way to go round to show\nthat lying is impossible to God. He in whose dominion are all the\nrights and claims of man, is not to be restrained by the mere\nreluctance of His creatures to be deceived, or by the general bad\neffects of a lie upon the edifice of human credit. As Master He might\nimpose this annoyance upon the individual, these bad consequences upon\nsociety: or by His Providence He might prevent their occurring,\nwhenever He willed in His utterances to swerve from the truth. The\nonly help for the argument for the Divine veracity on these grounds,\nis to urge with Plato that none of the motives which lead men to lie\ncan ever find place in the mind of God: that a lie is a subterfuge, an\neconomy, a device resorted to under stress of circumstances, such as\ncan never serve the turn of the Supreme Being. But though God be\ninaccessible to human reasons for departing from the truth, may He not\nhave higher reasons, mysterious, and unsearchable, for such a\ndeviation? It is long arguing out this point. Better bring the\ndiscussion sharp round with the question: Is there not some element in\nthe Divine Nature itself, which makes it impossible for God to speak\nfalse?\n\n4. Undoubtedly there is such an element, deep down, even at the root\nof the sanctity of God. God is holy in that, being by essence the\nfulness of all being and all goodness, He is ever true to Himself in\nevery act of His understanding, of His will, and of His power. By His\nunderstanding He abidingly covers, grasps, and comprehends His whole\nBeing. With His will He loves Himself supremely. His power is\nexercised entirely for His glory--entirely, but not exclusively, for\nGod's last and best external glory is in the consummated happiness of\nHis creatures. Whatever God makes, He makes in His own likeness, more\nor less so according to the degree of being which He imparts to the\ncreature. And as whatever God does is like Him, and whatever God makes\nis like Him, so whatever God says is like Him: His spoken word answers\nto His inward word and thought. It holds of God as of every being who\nhas a thought to think and a word to utter:\n\n  To thine own self be true,\n  And it must follow as the night the day,\n  Thou canst not then be false to any man.\n\n5. God's sanctity is in His being true to Himself. His veracity is\npart of His sanctity. He cannot in His speech, or revelation of\nHimself, contradict what He really has in His mind, without ceasing to\nbe holy and being no longer God. But the sanctity of intellectual\ncreatures must be, like their every other pure perfection, modelled on\nthe corresponding perfection of their Maker. Holiness must mean\ntruthfulness in man, for it means truthfulness in God. God's words\ncannot be at variance with His thought, for God is essential holiness.\nNor can man speak otherwise than as he thinks without marring the\nattribute of holiness in himself, that is, without doing wrong.\n\n6. To speak against one's mind is an act falling upon undue matter.\nWords are naturally signs of thoughts. Not that the words of any given\nlanguage, as English or German, have any natural connection with the\nthoughts that they express; but it is natural to men, natural to every\nintellectual being, to have some mode of expressing his thoughts by\noutward signs; and once a sign is recognized as the sign of a certain\nthought, so long as the convention remains unrepealed, whoever uses\nthat sign, not having in his mind at the time the thought which that\nsign signifies, but the contradictory to it, is doing violence to the\nnatural bond between sign and thing signified, by putting forward the\nformer where the latter is not behind it. And since the due and proper\nmatter for the sign to be put upon is the presence in the mind of the\nthought signified, to make that sign where the opposite thought is\npresent, is, as St. Thomas says, an act falling upon undue matter. The\npeculiar spiritual and moral inviolability of the connection between\nword and thought, appears from the consideration which we have urged\nof the archetype holiness of God. This then is the real, intrinsic,\nprimary, and inseparable reason, why lying, or speech in contradiction\nwith the thought of the speaker, is everywhere and always wrong.\n\n7. Grotius (_De Jure Belli et Pacis_, I. iii., c. i., nn. 11, seq.)\nargues a lie to be wrong solely inasmuch as it is \"in conflict with\nthe existing and abiding right of the person spoken to.\" If _right_\nhere means something binding in _commutative justice_ (_Ethics_, c.\nv., s. ix., n. 6, p. 106), we deny that any such right is violated by\nwhat is called a _simple_ lie, that is, an untruth not in the matter\nof religion, and not affecting the character, property, or personal\nwell-being of our neighbour. For if a simple lie is a violation of\ncommutative justice, it carries the obligation of restitution\n(_Ethics_, c. v., s. ix., n. 6, p. 107); that is, we are bound to tell\nthe truth afterwards to the person that we have lied to, even in a\nmatter of no practical consequence,--quite a new burden on the\nconsciences of men. Again, if the bar to lying were the hearer's\nright, whoever had dominion over another's right might lie to him; the\nparent might lie to the child, the State to the citizen, and God to\nman, a doctrine which, away from its application to God, Grotius\naccepts. Lastly since _volenti non fit injuria_, the presumed\nwillingness of the listener would license all manner of officious and\njocose lies, as the authority of the speaker would sanction official\nfabrications. Thus, what with official, and what with officious\nspeeches, it would be very hard to believe anybody.\n\n8. By our rejection of Grotius' theory we are enabled to answer\nMilton's question: \"If all killing be not murder, nor all taking from\nanother, stealing why must all untruths be lies?\" Because, we say,\nkilling and taking away of goods deal with rights which are not\nabsolute and unlimited, but become in certain situations void; whereas\nan untruth turns, not on another's right, but on the exigency of the\nspeaker's own rational nature calling for the concord of the word\nsignifying with the thought signified, and this exigency never varies.\n_Untruth_ and _falsehood_ are but polite names for a _lie_.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 110, art. 3, in corp., ad. 4; _ib_.,\nq. 109, art. 2, 3, in corp.; Ar., _Eth_., IV., vii.; Plato, _Rep_.,\n382, 389 B, C.\n\n\nSECTION III.--_Of the keeping of Secrets without Lying_.\n\n\n1. There are _natural_ secrets, secrets of _promise_, and secrets of\n_trust_. A _natural_ secret is all a man's own private history, which\nhe would not have made public, as also all that he discovers by his\nown observation of the similar private history of his neighbours. If a\nman finds out something about his neighbour, and, after he has found\nit out for himself, the neighbour gets him to promise not to publish\nit, that is a secret of _promise_. Lastly, if one man comes to\nanother, as to a lawyer, or a surgeon, for professional advice, or\nsimply to a friend for moral counsel, and in order thereto imparts to\nhim some of his natural secrets, those secrets, as they are received\nand held by the person consulted, are called secrets of _trust_. This\nlatter kind of secret is privileged above the other two. A natural\nsecret, and also a secret of promise, must be delivered up on the\ndemand of an authority competent to inquire in the department where\nthe secret lies. But a secret of trust is to be given up to no\ninquirer, but to be kept against all who endeavour to come by it,\nexcept where the matter bodes mischief and wrong to a third party, or\nto the community, and where at the same time the owner of the secret\ncannot be persuaded to desist from the wrong. This proviso does not\nhold for the _seal of confession_, which is absolutely inviolable.\n\n2. The main art of keeping a secret is, not to talk about it. If a man\nis asked an awkward question, and sees no alternative but to let out\nor lie, it is usually his own fault for having introduced the subject,\nor encouraged the questioner up to that point. A wise man lets drop in\ntime topics which he is unwilling to have pressed. But there are\nunconscionable people who will not be put off, and who, either out of\nmalice or out of stupidity, ply you with questions against all rules\nof good breeding. This direct assault may sometimes be retaliated, and\na rude question met by a curt answer. But such a reply is not always\nprudent or charitable, and would not unfrequently convey the very\ninformation required. Silence would serve no better, for silence gives\nconsent, and is eloquent at times. There is nothing left for it in\nsuch cases but to lock your secret up, as it were, in a separate\ncompartment of your breast, and answer according to the remainder of\nyour information, which is not secret, private, and confidential. This\nlooks very much like lying, but it is not lying, it is speaking the\ntruth under a _broad mental reservation_.\n\n3. _Mental reservation_ is an act of the mind, limiting the spoken\nphrase so that it may not bear the full sense which at first hearing\nit seems to bear. The reservation, or limitation of the spoken sense,\nis said to be _broad_ or _pure_, according as it is, or is not,\nindicated externally. A _pure mental reservation_, where the speaker\nuses words in a limited meaning, without giving any outward clue to\nthe limitation, is in nothing different from a lie, and is wrong as a\nlie is always wrong. A good instance is Archbishop Cranmer's oath of\nfealty to the Pope, he having previously protested--of course out of\nhearing of the Pope or the Pope's representative--that he meant that\noath in no way to preclude him from labouring at the reformation of\nthe Church in England, that is, doing all the evil work which Henry\nVIII. had marked out for him in the teeth of the Roman Bishop.\n[Footnote 18] Even _broad mental reservation_ is permissible only as a\nlast resource, when no other means are available for the preservation\nof some secret which one has a duty to others, or grave reason of\none's own, to keep.\n\n[Footnote 18: Strype's _Cranmer_, i., pp 27, 28; _ib_., ii.,\nAppendices 5, 6; ed. Oxon., 1812.]\n\n4. The point to make out is that no lie is told. To speak under a\nreservation is a lie, if it is speech against the mind of the speaker.\nBut how can it be aught else than speech against the mind, when the\nheart thinks _yea_, and the tongue says _nay_? We answer that, in the\ncase contemplated, the thought of the heart is, _secrets apart, nay_;\nand though the word on the lips is _nay_ simply, yet we must not take\nthat word as the whole locution, but as a mere text, to which the\nsituation of the speaker and the matter spoken of form a commentary,\nlegible to any observant eye. The word is an _annotated text; nay_ in\nthe body of the page, with _secrets apart_ inscribed in the margin.\nThe adequate utterance is the whole page, text and gloss together;\nthat speech answers to the thought in the speaker's mind; therefore it\nis no lie.\n\n5. The essential requisite is that the gloss, _secrets apart_, be not\nwritten in the speaker's private mind, but be outwardly and publicly\nmanifest in the matter spoken of, which must be one that clearly\nadmits of secrets, and in the circumstances of the speaker, who is\ndriven into a corner, and obliged to answer something, and yet cannot\nby any prudent man be expected to answer out of the fulness of all the\nknowledge that he may possibly possess.\n\n6. Nor let it be said that all confidence in the replies given to our\nquestions is hereby destroyed. For most questions are in matters that\ndo not admit of a secret. There the qualification, _secrets apart_,\nwhich may be said to attach to all answers, has no value and meaning:\nit is mathematically equal to zero; and we may take the answer in full\nassurance just as it reaches our ear. Again, when a person volunteers\na statement unasked, he cannot be supposed to be reserving secrets.\nBut when delicate subjects are touched on, and inquiry is pushed to\nextremity by an unauthorized questioner, _secrets apart_ is the\nhandwriting on the wall.\n\n7. But why is not this qualification spoken out with the tongue?\nSometimes it safely may be, and then it should be so added. But, as\nthe addition is unusual, our taking the trouble to express it would\noften certify to the inquirer that his suspicions were correct, though\nwe ought not to tell him so. Our aim then must be to give such an oral\nanswer as we should return, were the suspicion quite unfounded. Our\nquestioner, if he is a prudent man, will piece out our phrase with the\naddition, _secrets apart_; and he will understand that he can get\nnothing out of us either way, which is exactly what we wish him to\nunderstand. His unauthorized interrogatory has been met by speech that\namounts to silence, arguing indeed our prudence, but leaving him as\nwise as before on the forbidden topic. If he is a thoughtless man, he\nis deceived, not by any intention or election of ours, but indirectly\nso far as we are concerned, an incidental deception which he has\nbrought on himself.\n\n8. This then is a convention that obtains, not of positive\ninstitution, but dictated by nature herself, that on a matter which\nadmits of being secret, any answer elicited under stress of necessity\nmust be so construed, as that any grave secret that may be touched,\nnot being morally in the power of the respondent to reveal, shall be\ntaken to remain reserved.\n\n9. We may therefore sometimes avoid seeming to know what we know, or\nto be what we are. But we may never of our own proper motion step\nforward and court observation as being what we are not, or knowing\nwhat is against or beyond our knowledge. We may dissemble\noccasionally, but not simulate. The dissembler of a secret wishes for\nobscurity and silence: he wants to have the eyes of men turned away\nfrom him and their curiosity unroused. Whatever he says or does is to\ndivest the idea of there being anything particularly interesting about\nhim. But he who simulates--call him pretender, impostor, or quack--is\nnothing, if not taken notice of. The public gaze is his sunshine:\nobscurity gives him a deadly chill. His ambition is to appear out of\nthe ordinary, being really quite within common lines: the dissembler\nis in some respect beyond the ordinary, but wishes not to show himself\notherwise than as an ordinary mortal with ordinary knowledge. The\npretender is on the offensive, challenging attention: the dissembler\nis on his defence against notice. \"Simulation,\" says Bolingbroke, \"is\na stiletto, not only an offensive but an unlawful weapon, and the use\nof it may be rarely, very rarely, excused, but never justified.\nDissimulation is a shield, as secrecy is armour: and it is no more\npossible to preserve secrecy in the administration of public affairs\nwithout dissimulation than it is to succeed in it without secrecy.\"\n(_Idea of a Patriot King_.)\n\n_Readings_.--De Lugo, _De Just. et Jure_, 14, nn. 135, 141, 142; _The\nMonth_ for March, 1883; Lockhart's _Life of Scott_, v., 26.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nOF CHARITY.\n\n\n1. It is the difference between sensible apprehension and intellectual\nknowledge, that the former seizes upon a particular object and it\nonly, as _this sweet_: the latter takes its object as the type of a\nclass of similars, _this and the like of this, this sweet as one of\nthe class of sweet things_. In like manner the love of passion, which\nis the love of sense, regards one sole object. Titius is in love with\nBertha alone, not with woman in general. But an intellectual love is\nthe love of a type of beauty or goodness, of _this_ object and of\nothers as they approach in likeness to it. Whoever loves William from\nan intellectual appreciation of his patriotism, in loving him loves\nall patriots. Every animal loves itself with a brute, sensible love,\nnot a love to find fault with, nor yet a noble and exalted\nsentiment--a love purely self-regarding, quite apart from the good\nthat is in self, but embracing self simply as self, and self alone.\nThis is the first love of self even in man. But over and above this\nanimal and sensible love, which no man lacks, there is in all men\nworthy of the name a second self-regarding affection of an\nintellectual cast, whereby a man loves himself as discerning with the\neye of his soul the excellence of his own nature--\"how noble in\nreason, how infinite in faculty, in form and moving how express and\nadmirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a\ngod, the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals.\" Intellectual\nself-complacence overflows from self to similars. It is not self-love,\nit is love of the race, \"the milk of human kindness,\" philanthropy.\n\n2. But man is a disappointing creature, after all a mere \"quintessence\nof dust,\" unless he can rise above himself by relation with some\nsuperhuman being, and make his final fortune in some better region\nthan this world. Reason requires that we love ourselves, and love our\nfellow-men, for and in order to the development of the highest gifts\nand capacities that are in us. These are gifts and capacities divine,\npreparing us to find our everlasting happiness in God. (_Ethics_, c.\nii., s. iv., n. 2, p. 22.) The love that we bear to ourselves and our\nneighbour, in view of our coming from God and going to God, is called\nthe love of _charity_. Charity differs from philanthropy in looking\nbeyond the present life, and above creatures. A materialist and\natheist may possess philanthropy, but not charity.\n\n3. Beside the twofold love, animal and intellectual, which we bear\nourselves, we may also and should love ourselves with the love of\ncharity, seeing God's gifts in us, and desiring the perfection of\nthose gifts in a happy eternity occupied with God. The charity which\nwe should thus bear to ourselves is the model of that which we owe to\nour neighbour, whom we are to love _as ourselves_, not with the same\nintensity, but with the same quality of love, wishing him the good,\nhuman and divine, temporal and eternal, which we wish for ourselves,\nthough not so earnestly as we wish it for ourselves. Our love for\nourselves is stronger than for our neighbour: for, if love comes of\nlikeness, much more does it come of identity. But by reason of the\nvast preponderance of the good that is rational and eternal over that\nwhich is material and temporal; and also by reason of the principle\nlaid down by St. Thomas, that \"as to the sharing together of (eternal)\nhappiness, greater is the union of our neighbour's soul with our soul\nthan even of our own body with our soul\" (2a 2\u00e6, q. 26, art. 5, ad\n2),--we are bound to love our neighbour's eternal good better than our\nown temporal good, and in certain special conjunctures to sacrifice\nthe latter to the former. We have no duty and obligation of loving his\ntemporal good above our own temporal good. But it is often matter of\ncommendation and counsel to sacrifice our temporal interest to our\nneighbour's. This sacrifice is no breach of the order of charity,\nbeginning at home: since what is resigned of material and perishable\nprofit is gained in moral perfection. Especially commendable is the\nsurrender of private good for the good of the community. Charity, or\nphilanthropy, taking this form, bears the name of patriotism and\npublic spirit.\n\n4. Charity, like material forces, acts in a certain inverse ratio to\nthe distance of the object. Other considerations being equal, the\nnearer, the dearer. Nay, nearness and likeness to ourselves goes\nfurther than goodness in winning our love. This is natural, and\ncharity presupposes nature, and follows its order. As we have more\ncharity for ourselves than for others whom we acknowledge to be better\nmen, so likewise for our kinsmen and intimate friends. We may put the\nmatter thus. Charity consists in wishing and seeking to procure for a\nperson the good that leads to God. One element is the intensity and\neagerness of this wish and search; another is the greatness of the\ngood wished. Now we wish those who are better than ourselves to be\nrewarded according to their deserts with a greater good than\nourselves: but this wish is but lukewarm compared to the intensity of\nour desire that we and our friends with us may attain to all the good\nthat we are capable of.\n\n5. The Christian precept to love our enemies is merely the enforcement\nof a natural obligation. The obligation stands almost self-evident as\nsoon as it is cleared of misunderstanding. The love of enemies is not\nbased on the ground of their being hostile and annoying us. It would\nbe highly unnatural to love them on that score. Nor are we in duty\nbound to show to one who hates us special offices of friendship,\nexcept we find him in extreme need, _e.g._, dying in a ditch, as the\nGood Samaritan found the Jew: otherwise it is enough that we be\nanimated towards him with that common charity, which we bear to other\nmen who are not further off from us than he is. If Lucius offend\nTitius, there being no other tie between them than the tie of\nfriendship, Titius may, where the offence is very outrageous,\nhenceforth treat Lucius as a stranger. The question of scandal has\nsometimes to be regarded, but that is an extrinsic circumstance to our\npresent subject. Nor are we concerned to say what is the better thing\nfor Titius to do, but to say all that he is bound to do. He is bound\nto render himself as void of wilful malice, and as full of ordinary\ncourtesy and good feeling towards Lucius, as he is in the case of\nSempronius, a man whom he never heard of till this day. But if there\nbe some other antecedent tie between them besides the tie of\nfriendship,--for instance, if Titius and Lucius are two monks of the\nsame convent, two officers in the same regiment, two partners of one\nfirm,--Titius is no longer justified in treating Lucius as a stranger.\nHe must regard him with _ordinary_ charity; now ordinary charity\nbetween two brother-officers, or two fellow-monks, is not the same as\nbetween men who have no such tie one with another. This is why we laid\nit down that we must be animated towards him who has offended us \"with\nthat common charity, which we bear to other men _who are not further\noff_ from us than he is.\"\n\n6. This then being the exact obligation, the same is easily\nestablished. We must love our enemies, because the reasons given for\nloving all mankind (nn. 1, 2) are not vitiated by this or that man\nhaving treated us shamefully. The human nature in him still remains\ngood actually, and still more, potentially; and if good and hopeful,\nto that extent also lovable. Nor is this lovableness a mere separable\naccident. Rather, it is the offensive behaviour of the man that is the\nseparable accident. At that we may well be disgusted and abominate it.\nBut the underlying substance remains good, not incurably tainted with\nthat vicious accident. We must attend to the substance, which is,\nrather than to the accident, which _happens_, and may be abolished.\nLet us endeavour to abolish the accident, still so that we respect and\nregard the substance. Let us seek for redress under the guidance of\nprudence according to the circumstances of the case, but not for the\nruin of our enemy. Let us not render evil for evil, but even in\nexacting a just satisfaction, make it of the nature of that\ncompensatory evil, which is by consequence good. Let us _be angry_\nwith our enemy, but _sin not_ by hating him. (_Ethics_, c. iv., s.\niv., n. 3.) We may seek satisfaction for any _wrong_ we have suffered:\nin grave cases we must have recourse to the State for that: but the\n_sin_, if any, of our adversary is not our concern to punish or to\nseek vengeance for. (_Ethics_, c. ix., s. iii., n. 4.)\n\n7. The same reasoning holds good even of _public enemies_, tyrants,\npersecutors, anarchists, assassins. We must include them in our\nprayers, wish for their conversion, and, though their case appear\nhopeless, we must not damn them before their time. If we found one of\nthem dying by accident of cold or asphyxia, we should be bound by a\ngrave obligation to use all ordinary efforts to bring him round and\nrecover him. Still we may use our best efforts to bring them to\njustice, even to capital punishment, according to the procedure of\npublic law established in the country, and not otherwise. We may also\nwith an _inefficacious_ desire, that is, a desire that finds no vent\nin action, desire their death under an alternative thus, that either\nliving they may cease to do evil, or that God may call them away to\nwhere the wicked cease from troubling. But we must not desire, nor be\nglad of, their death by any unlawful means, for that were to\nsympathise with crime.\n\n8. Real charity shows itself in action, succouring a neighbour in\nneed, which is sometimes a counsel, sometimes a duty. It is an axiom,\nthat _charity is not binding with grave inconvenience_. The gravity of\nthe inconvenience in prospect must be measured against the urgency of\nthe need to be relieved. A neighbour is technically said to be in\n_extreme need_, when he is in imminent peril of deadly evil to soul or\nbody, and is unable to help himself. We are under severe obligation of\ncharity to succour any whom we find in this plight.\n\n9. By charity we give of our own to another: by justice we render to\nanother that which is his. Charity neglected calls for no restitution,\nwhen the need that required it is past away: justice violated cries\nfor restitution, for what we have taken away from our neighbour\nremains still his. The obligations of justice are negative, except for\nthe fulfilment of contracts: obligations in charity are largely\npositive. (_Ethics_, c. v., s. ix., n. 7, p. 108.)\n\n_Readings_.--_C. Gent._, III., 117; 2a 2\u00e6, q. 26, art. 4; _ib._, art.\n7; _ib_., art. 8; 2a 2\u00e6, q. 25, art. 8; _ib._, art. 9; _ib._, art. 6;\nFerrier, _Greek Philosophy_, Socrates, nn. 13, 26, 27, 29. (_Remains_,\nvol. i., pp. 227, seq.)\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nOF RIGHTS.\n\nSECTION I.--_Of the definition and division of Rights_.\n\n\n1. A _right_ is that in virtue of which a person calls anything his\nown. More elaborately, a right is a _moral power residing in a person,\nin virtue whereof he refers to himself as well his own actions as also\nother things, which stand referred to him in preference to other\npersons_. A right is a _moral power_, as distinguished from physical\nforce or ability. It resides in a _person_, a being whom we call\n_autocentric_, as distinguished from a _thing_, which is\n_heterocentric_. (c. ii., s. i., n. 2, p. 203.) A person is his own, a\nthing is another's. Every intellectual nature is a person except the\nHumanity of Christ, an exception which does not concern us here. To\nthe Creator all created personalities are as things, but that again is\nnot our concern in this place, where we treat of the relations between\nman and man. It will have to be noted hereafter with great emphasis,\nthat the _individual_ man is a _person_, not a thing and chattel, in\nrelation to the _State_, and consequently has rights against the\nState.\n\n2. Every intellectual being has the attribute of _reflex\nconsciousness_. It may turn its regard in upon itself, and call itself\n_me_, and its powers and activities _mine_. It certainly has the\nphysical ability of acting for self, and using its powers consciously\nfor its own ends. Does this physical ability represent also a _moral\npower_? Is the agent justified in exercising it? and are his fellows\nunder a moral obligation of justice to leave him free to exercise it?\n(_Ethics_, c. vi., s. i., nn. 5, 6, p. 111.) We have seen that\nmorality consists in acting up to one's own intellectual or rational\nnature. Since then the calling oneself _me_, and one's power _mine_,\nand the using those powers for purposes which one's reason approves,\nis the distinguishing feature of an intellectual, or rational, and\npersonal being, that being is morally warranted so to act. He calls\nhimself his own, and his powers his own, and they are his own by the\nvery fact of his calling them so by a natural act. And, as justice is\nto give to another his own, others are bound in justice to leave him\nfree to dispose of himself and his powers, at least within certain\nlimits. But this would be for man a barren freedom, were he not\nempowered to lay hold of and make his own some things, nay many\nthings, outside of himself, for man is not self-sufficient, but has\nmany natural necessities, and many psychical cravings to boot.\nTherefore man's right of preference extends, not only to his own\nactions, but also to external things, which he may make his own to act\nupon.\n\n3. Rights are either _connatural_ or _acquired_. Connatural rights\nspring from the very being of a man, as he is a person. Such are the\nrights to life, to honour, to personal liberty--that is, freedom to go\nwhere you will--to civil liberty--that is, not being a slave--also the\nrights to marry and to acquire property. Acquired rights spring from\nsome deed of man, annexing something to his personality. Such are the\nrights to property, duly entered upon, to reputation, to the political\nfranchise, and all rights that come by contract. Acquired rights may\ndescend to heirs.\n\n4. Rights again are _alienable_ and _inalienable_, which division does\nnot coincide with the preceding. Those rights are inalienable, shorn\nof which a man cannot work out his last end. Some rights are thus\npermanently and universally inalienable, as the right to life: others\nare so occasionally and for particular persons.\n\n5. The correlative of _right_ is _duty_: so that, wherever one man has\na right, his neighbours have a duty in justice to leave him free to\nexercise the same. But the converse is not true, that wherever one man\nhas a duty towards another, that other has a right to its performance,\nfor there are duties of charity, which do not impart a corresponding\nright, but only a _claim_. _Duties_ that correspond to _rights_ are\ncalled by English moralists _perfect_ duties. _Duties_ answering to\n_claims_ only they call _imperfect_.\n\n6. Of duties, some are _positive_, which bind _always, not for\nalways_, as the duty of adoring God. We are always bound to adore, we\nare not bound to be always adoring. Other duties are negative, and\nbind _always, for always_, as the duties of sobriety and chastity. The\nformer class of duties we may more easily be excused from, because\nthey can be deferred, and it is at times morally impossible to take\nthem up. But negative duty, as Mr. Gladstone has finely said, \"rises\nwith us in the morning, and goes to rest with us at night: it is the\nshadow that follows us wheresoever we go, and only leaves us when we\nleave the light of life.\"\n\n7. Only a _person_ has rights, as appears by the definition of a\n_right_. Again, only persons have duties, for they only have free\nwill. No one has duties without rights, and no man has rights without\nduties. Infants and idiots, in whom the use of reason is impeded,\nhaving notwithstanding rights, are said to have duties also\n_radically_. Hence it is wrong to make an idiot commit what is in him\na _material_ breach of some negative duty, as of temperance. Positive\nduties he is excused from.\n\n8. Some have taught that all human rights are consequences of duties;\na man having first a duty to perform, and then a right to the means\nnecessary to its performance. But this doctrine appears more pious\nthan probable. For, first, the type and example of sovereign right,\nGod, has no duties. (_Ethics_, c. vi., s. ii., n. 4, p. 130.) Then\nagain, a man may have a right conjoined with a duty--not of justice,\nof course, but of some other virtue, as of religion--not to use that\nright. But if rights were consequent upon duties, the right would\ncease in such a case; and to pretend to exercise it would be a sin\nagainst justice, which it is not.\n\n\nSECTION II.--_Of the so-called Rights of Animals_.\n\n\n1. Brute beasts, not having understanding and therefore not being\npersons, cannot have any rights. The conclusion is clear. They are not\nautocentric. They are of the number of _things_, which are another's:\nthey are chattels, or cattle. We have no duties to them,--not of\njustice, as is shown; not of religion, unless we are to worship them,\nlike the Egyptians of old; not of fidelity, for they are incapable of\naccepting a promise. The only question can be of charity. Have we\nduties of charity to the lower animals? Charity is an extension of the\nlove of ourselves to beings like ourselves, in view of our common\nnature and our common destiny to happiness in God. (c. iv., nn. 1, 2,\np. 239.) It is not for the present treatise to prove, but to assume,\nthat our nature is not common to brute beasts but immeasurably above\ntheirs, higher indeed above them than we are below the angels. Man\nalone speaks, man alone hopes to contemplate for ever, if not--in the\nnatural order--the Face of his Father in Heaven, at least the\nreflected brightness of that Divine Face. (_Ethics_, c. ii., s. iv.,\nnn. 3, 4.) We have then no duties of charity, nor duties of any kind,\nto the lower animals, as neither to stocks and stones.\n\n2. Still we have duties _about_ stones, not to fling them through our\nneighbour's windows; and we have duties _about_ brute beasts. We must\nnot harm them, when they are our neighbour's property. We must not\nbreak out into paroxysms of rage and impatience in dealing with them.\nIt is a miserable way of showing off human pre-eminence, to torture\npoor brutes in malevolent glee at their pain and helplessness. Such\nwanton cruelty is especially deplorable, because it disposes the\nperpetrators to be cruel also to men. As St. Thomas says (1a 2\u00e6, q.\n102, art. 6, ad 8):\n\n\"Because the passion of pity arises from the afflictions of others,\nand it happens even to brute animals to feel pain, the affection of\npity may arise in man even about the afflictions of animals.\nObviously, whoever is practised in the affection of pity towards\nanimals, is thereby more disposed to the affection of pity towards\nmen: whence it is said in Proverbs xii. 10: 'The just regardeth the\nlives of his beasts, but the bowels of the wicked are cruel.' And\ntherefore the Lord, seeing the Jewish people to be cruel, that He\nmight reclaim them to pity, wished to train them to pity even towards\nbrute beasts, forbidding certain things to be done to animals which\nseem to touch upon cruelty. And therefore He forbade them to seethe\nthe kid in the mother's milk (Deut. xiv. 21), or to muzzle the\ntreading ox (Deut. xxv. 4), or to kill the old bird with the young.\"\n(Deut. xxii. 6, 7.)\n\n3. It is wanton cruelty to vex and annoy a brute beast _for sport_.\nThis is unworthy of man, and disposes him to inhumanity towards his\nown species. Yet the converse is not to be relied on: there have been\ncruel men who have made pets of the brute creation. But there is no\nshadow of evil resting on the practice of causing pain to brutes _in\nsport_, where the pain is not the sport itself, but an incidental\nconcomitant of it. Much more in all that conduces to the sustenance of\nman may we give pain to brutes, as also in the pursuit of science. Nor\nare we bound to any anxious care to make this pain as little as may\nbe. Brutes are as _things_ in our regard: so far as they are useful to\nus, they exist for us, not for themselves; and we do right in using\nthem unsparingly for our need and convenience, though not for our\nwantonness. If then any special case of pain to a brute creature be a\nfact of considerable value for observation in biological science or\nthe medical art, no reasoned considerations of morality can stand in\nthe way of man making the experiment, yet so that even in the quest of\nscience he be mindful of mercy.\n\n4. Altogether it will be found that a sedulous observance of the\nrights and claims of other men, a mastery over one's own passions, and\na reverence for the Creator, give the best assurance of a wise and\nhumane treatment of the lower animals. But to preach kindness to\nbrutes as a primary obligation, and capital point of amendment in the\nconversion of a sinner, is to treat the symptom and leave unchecked\nthe inward malady.\n\n_Reading_.--St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 25, art. 3.\n\n\nSECTION III.--_Of the right to Honour and Reputation_.\n\n\n1. _Honour_ is the attestation of another's excellence. _Reputation_\nis the opinion of many touching another's life and conduct. Honour is\npaid to a man to his face, whereas his reputation is bruited behind\nhis back. Honour is taken away by _insult_, reputation by\n_detraction_. If the detraction involve a falsehood, it is called\n_calumny_ or _slander_. The name _backbiting_, given to detraction,\npoints to the absence of the person spoken of. But no one meets with\nan insult except where he is present, either in person or by his\nrepresentative.\n\n2. Both honour and reputation are goods that a man can call his own,\nand has a right to, but on different titles. Honour, some honour at\nleast, appertains to a man simply for his being a man: reputation is\nwon by deeds. Honour is primarily a connatural right: reputation is\nacquired. An entire stranger has no reputation, but a certain honour\nis his due to start with.\n\n3. As there is a right to honour and a right to reputation, so insult\nand detraction are sins, not against charity, but against commutative\njustice, calling for restitution. (_Ethics_, c. v., s. ix., n. 6, p.\n106.) We must tender an apology for an insult, and labour to restore\nthe good name that our detracting tongue has taken away.\n\n4. Calumny is a double sin, one sin against truth, and another sin,\nthe heavier of the two, against justice. If the blackening tale be\ntrue, the first sin is absent, but the second is there. The truth of\nthe story is no justification for our publishing it. Though it is\nwrong to lie, it is not always right to blurt out the truth,\nespecially when we are not asked for it. There are unprofitable\ndisclosures, unseasonable, harmful, and wrongful. But, it will be\nsaid, does not a man forego his right to reputation by doing the evil\nthat belies his fair fame? No, his right remains, unless the evil that\nhe does, either of its own proper working or by the scandal that it\ngives, be subversive of social order. If he has committed a crime\nagainst society, he is to be denounced to the authorities who have\ncharge of society: they will judge him, and, finding him guilty, they\nwill punish him and brand him with infamy. If, again, he does evil,\nthough not immediately against society, yet in the face of society and\nbefore the sun; he shocks the public conscience and rends his own\nreputation. But the evil private and proper to himself that any man\nworks in secret, is not society's care, nor affects his social\nstanding, nor brings any rightful diminution to his good name. If all\nour secret and personal offences are liable to be made public by any\nobserver, which of us shall abide it? Our character is our public\ncharacter; and that is not forfeit except for some manner of public\nsin.\n\n5. Suppose a veteran, long retired, has made a name for military\nprowess by boasting of battles wherein he never came into danger, is\nthe one old comrade who remembers him for a skulker and a runaway,\njustified in showing him up? No, for that reputation, however\nmendaciously got together, is still truly a good possession: it is not\na fruit of injustice, therefore it is no matter of restitution: nor is\nit any instrument of injustice, which the holder is bound to drop:\nthus, as he is not bound to forego it, now that he has got it, so his\nneighbour may not rightfully take it from him.\n\n_Reading_.--St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 73, art. 1.\n\n\nSECTION IV.--_Of Contracts_.\n\n\n1. A _contract_ is a bargain productive of an obligation of\ncommutative justice in each of the contracting parties. A _bargain_ is\na consent of two wills to the same object. Thus a promise, before it\nis accepted, is not a bargain. But even after acceptance a promise is\nnot a contract, for the promiser may not choose to bind himself in\njustice, but only in good faith, while the promisee is under no\nobligation whatever.\n\n2. There are such things as _implicit contracts_, attached to the\nbearing of certain offices, whereby a man becomes his brother's\nkeeper. The liability contracted is limited by the nature of the\noffice: thus a physician is officially bound in justice as to his\npatient's pulse, but not officially as to his purse. Where there is no\nexplicit contract, the duties which the subjects of a person's\nofficial care have towards him are not duties of commutative justice.\nThus these _implicit contracts_ are not strictly contracts, as failing\nto carry a full reciprocity.\n\n3. Contracts are either _consensual_ or _real_, according as they are\neither complete by the mere consent of the parties, or further require\nthat something should change hands and pass from one to the other.\nWhat contracts are consensual, and what real, depends chiefly on\npositive law. No natural law can tell whether buying and selling, for\ninstance, be a consensual or a real contract. The interest of this\nparticular case is when the goods are lost in transmission: then\nwhichever of the two parties at the time be determined to be the\nowner, apart from culpable negligence or contrary agreement of the\nsender, he bears the loss, on the principle, _res perit domino_.\n\n4. Contracts are otherwise divided as _onerous_ and _gratuitous_. In\nan onerous contract either party renders some advantage in return for\nthe advantage that he receives, as when Titius hires the horse of\nCaius. In a gratuitous contract all the advantage is on one side, as\nwhen Titius does not hire but borrows a horse. The Roman lawyers\nfurther distinguish contracts, somewhat humorously, into _contracts\nwith names_ and _contracts without names_, or _nominate_ and\n_innominate_, as anatomists name a certain bone the _innominate bone_,\nand a certain artery the _innominate artery_. _Innominate contracts_\nare reckoned four: _I give on the terms of your giving_, otherwise\nthan as buying and selling,--to some forms of this there are English\nnames, as _exchange_ and _barter_: _I do on the terms of your doing: I\ndo on the terms of your giving: I give on the terms of your doing_.\n\n_Readings_.--De Lugo, _De Just. et Jure_, 22, nn. 1, 2, 5, 6, 9, 16,\n17. For buying and selling and the frauds incident thereto, Paley,\n_Moral Philosophy_, bk. iii., p. 1, c. vii.\n\n\nSECTION V.--_Of Usury_.\n\n\n1. We must distinguish _use value_ and _market value_. The use value\nof an article of property is the esteem which the owner has of it from\nevery other point of view except as a thing to sell. Thus a man values\nhis overcoat on a journey as a protection from cold and rain. A book\nis valued that was held in the dying hand of a parent. This is use\nvalue. The market value of an article is the estimate of society,\nfixing the rate of exchange between that and other articles, so much\nof one for so much of another, _e.g._, between mahogany and cedar\nwood, considered as things to sell.\n\n2. Answering to this twofold value is a twofold exchange, _private\nexchange_, which regards use value; and _commercial exchange_, which\nis founded on market value. If I part with my watch to a sailor for\ncarrying me across an arm of the sea where there is no public ferry,\nthat is private exchange. If I pay the ordinary fare where there is a\npublic ferry, that is commercial exchange.\n\n3. Private exchange begins in the need of at least one of the\ncontracting parties. It is an act of charity in the other party to\naccommodate him by offering the thing needed. If the offer is made\notherwise than as a gift, and is accepted, he who avails himself of it\nis bound in justice to see that the afforder of the accommodation is\ncompensated for the loss that he suffers in affording it. Thus far the\nrecipient is bound in justice, and no further in that virtue. However\nwholesome or profitable the thing be to him that gets it, the supplier\ncannot charge for that but only for the loss that he himself suffers,\nor the gain that he foregoes, in handing the thing over, or the pains\nthat he takes, or the hardship that he endures, or the risk that he\nruns, in rendering the service desired. If all the labour to be\nundergone, or damage incurred, or risk encountered, by the sailor who\ngoes about by private bargain to be my ferryman, is fairly met by the\nremuneration of a thirty-shilling watch, he has no right to stipulate\nfor any more, not though the passage that he gives me sets me on the\nway to a throne. The peculiar advantage that I have in prospect does\nnot come out of him, but out of myself. He must not pretend to sell\nwhat is not his, what attaches, not to him, but to me. He can only\nsell his own loss, risk, pains and labour. At the same time, if I have\nany gentlemanly or generous feeling in me, I shall be forward to\nbestow extra remuneration on one who has rendered me so timely a\nservice: but this is matter of my gratitude, not of his right and\nclaim in justice. Gratitude must not be put into the bill. And this\nmuch of private exchange.\n\n4. Commercial exchange is conducted according to market value. Apart\nfrom dire necessity--and one in dire necessity is not fit to enter\ninto commercial exchanges--the rule is, that a seller may always ask\nthe market value of his article, however much that may be above what\nthe thing cost him, or the use value which it bears to him. Thus, if\none finds in his garden a rare Roman coin--so far as his tastes go, a\npaltry bit of metal--he may sell it for whatever price numismatists\nwill offer: whereas, if there were no market for coins, but only one\nindividual who doted on such things, the finder could make no profit\nout of that individual, the coin having neither market value with the\ncommunity, nor use value in the eyes of the finder.\n\n5. As there is a twofold value, and a twofold exchange, so a twofold\ncharacter is impressed on the great instrument of exchange, money.\nMoney, in one character, is an instrument of private exchange: in its\nother character, to mercantile men more familiar, it is an instrument\nof commercial exchange. In the one, it represents use value to the\nparticular owner, more or less to him than it would be to some other\nowner: in the other, it represents market value, the same to all at\nthe same time.\n\n6. Leo X. in the Fifth Council of Lateran, 1515, ruled that--\"usury is\nproperly interpreted to be the attempt to draw profit and increment,\nwithout labour, without cost, and without risk, out of the use of a\nthing that does not fructify.\" In 1745 Benedict XIV. wrote in the same\nsense to the Bishops of Italy: \"That kind of sin which is called\nusury, and which has its proper seat and place in the contract of\n_mutuum_, consists in turning that contract, which of its own nature\nrequires the amount returned exactly to balance the amount received,\ninto a ground for demanding a return in excess of the amount\nreceived.\" _Mutuum_, be it observed, is a loan for a definite period,\nof some article, the use of which lies in its consumption, as matches,\nfuel, food, and, in one respect, money. We shall prove this to be\nproperly a _gratuitous_ contract. (s. iv., n. 4, p. 254.)\n\n7. Usury then is no mere taking of exorbitant interest. There is no\nquestion of more or less, but it is usury to take any interest at all\nupon the loan of a piece of property, which\n\n(a) is of no use except to be used up, spent, consumed:\n\n(b) is not wanted for the lender's own consumption within the period\nof the loan:\n\n(c) is lent upon security that obviates risk:\n\n(d) is so lent that the lender foregoes no occasion of lawful gain by\nlending it.\n\n8. When all these four conditions are fulfilled, and yet interest is\nexacted upon a loan, such interest is usurious and unjust. And why?\nSimply by reason of the principle that we laid down before, speaking\nof private exchange (n. 3), a principle that is thus stated by St.\nThomas:\n\n\"If one party is much benefited by the commodity which he receives of\nthe other, while the other, the seller, is not a loser by going\nwithout the article, no extra price must be put on. The reason is,\nbecause the benefit that accrues to one party is not from the seller,\nbut from the condition of the buyer. Now no one ought to sell to\nanother that which is not his, though he may sell the loss that he\nsuffers. He, however, who is much benefited by the commodity he\nreceives of another, may spontaneously bestow some extra recompense on\nthe seller: that is the part of one who has the feelings of a\ngentleman.\" (2a. 2\u00e6, q. 77, art. 1, in corp.)\n\n9. St. Thomas speaks of sales, but the principle applies equally to\nloans. It is upon loans of money that interest is commonly taken, and\nof money-loans we speak. Clearly, according to the doctrine stated,\nthe lender can claim the compensation of interest, if he has to pinch\nhimself in order to lend, or lends at a notable risk. He is selling\nhis own loss,--or risk, which is loss once removed. But supposing he\nhas other monies in hand, and the security is good, and he has enough\nstill left for all domestic needs, and for all luxuries that he cares\nto indulge in,--moreover he has nothing absolutely to do with his\nmoney, in the event of his not lending it, but to hoard it up in his\nstrong box, and wait long months till he has occasion to use it: in\nthat case, if he lends it he will be no worse off on the day that he\ngets it back, no worse off in the time while it is away, than if it\nhad never left his coffers. Such is the contract of _mutuum_, shorn of\nall accidental attendant circumstances, a contract, which \"of its own\nnature,\" as Benedict XIV. says, that is, apart from circumstances,\n\"requires the amount returned exactly to balance the amount received.\"\nNot though the borrower has profited of the loan to gain kingdoms, is\nany further return in strict justice to be exacted of him on that\nprecise account.\n\n10. But now an altered case. Suppose land is purchaseable, and it is\nproposed to stock a farm with cattle, and rear them, and convey them\nto a large town where there is a brisk demand for meat--the\nsupposition is not always verified, nor any supposition like it, but\nsuppose it verified in some one case--then, though the lender has\nother monies in hand for the needs of his household, and the security\nis good, yet the money is not so lent as that he foregoes no occasion\nof lawful gain by lending it. He foregoes the purchase of land and\nfarm stock, or at least delays it, and delay is loss where profit is\nperennial. On that score of gain forfeited he may exact interest on\nthe money that he lends, which interest will be no usury. The title of\ninterest here given is recognized by divines as _lucrum cessans_,\n\"interruption of profit.\" The interest is taken, so far as it goes\nupon a lawful title, not upon the fact of the borrower's profit--that\nis irrelevant--but upon the profit that the lender might have made,\nhad he kept the money in hand.\n\n11. This latter case (n. 10) represents that putting of money out to\ninterest, which is an essential feature of modern commerce. The former\ncase (n. 9) is the aspect that money-lending commonly bore in the\nMiddle Ages. In those days land was hard to buy, agriculture backward,\nroads bad, seas unnavigable, carrying-trade precarious, messages slow,\nraids and marauders frequent, population sparse, commerce confined to\na few centres, mines unworked, manufactures mostly domestic, capital\nyet unformed. Men kept their money in their cellars, or deposited it\nfor safety in religious houses: whence the stories of treasure-trove\nbelonging to those days. They took out the coin as they wanted it to\nspend on housekeeping, or on war, or feasting. It was very hard, next\nto impossible, to lay out money so as to make more money by it. Money\nwas in those days really barren--a resource for housekeeping, not for\ntrade--a medium of private, not of commercial exchange--a\nrepresentative of use value, not of market value. Apart from risk of\nnon-repayment, to take interest for money that you had no use for but\nto hoard, was getting \"a breed of barren metal:\" it was taking up what\nyou laid not down: it was making profit out of your neighbour's need,\nor your neighbour's gain, where there was no corresponding need\nunsatisfied, or gain forfeited, on your part: it was that \"attempt to\ndraw profit and increment, without labour, without cost, and without\nrisk, out of the use of a thing that does not fructify,\" which the\nFifth Lateran Council defines to be usury.\n\n12. In our time, thanks to steam and electricity, the increase of\npopulation, and continued peace, the whole world has become one\ntrading community, representing now more, now less abundant\nopportunities for the investment of money, and the conversion of it\ninto other lucrative commodities. Money consequently with us is not a\nmere medium of private exchange for the purposes of housekeeping: it\nis a medium of commercial exchange. It represents, not use value, but\nmarket value. To be a thousand pounds out of pocket for a year means\nan opportunity of gain irretrievably lost, gain that could have been\nmade otherwise than by money-lending. Where this is so, and so far as\nit is so, the lender may without violation of justice point to _lucrum\ncessans_, gain lost, and arrange beforehand with the borrower for\nbeing reimbursed with interest.\n\n13. The transition from mediaeval housekeeping, with its use values\nand private exchange, to the mercantile society of modern times, was\nnot made in a day, nor went on everywhere at the same rate. It was a\ngrowth of ages. In great cities commerce rapidly ripened, and was well\non towards maturity five centuries ago. Then the conditions that\nrender interest lawful, and mark it off from usury, readily came to\nobtain. But those centres were isolated. Like the centres of\nossification, which appear here and there in cartilage when it is\nbeing converted into bone, they were separated one from another by\nlarge tracts remaining in the primitive condition. Here you might have\na great city, Hamburg or Genoa, an early type of commercial\nenterprise, and, fifty miles inland, society was in its infancy, and\nthe great city was as part of another world. Hence the same\ntransaction, as described by the letter of the law, might mean lawful\ninterest in the city, and usury out in the country--the two were so\ndisconnected. In such a situation the legislator has to choose between\nforbidding interest here and allowing usury there; between restraining\nspeculation and licensing oppression. The mediaeval legislator chose\nthe former alternative. Church and State together enacted a number of\nlaws to restrain the taking of interest, laws that, like the clothes\nof infancy, are not to be scorned as absurd restrictions, merely\nbecause they are inapplicable now, and would not fit the modern growth\nof nations. At this day the State has repealed those laws, and the\nChurch has officially signified that she no longer insists on them.\nStill she maintains dogmatically that there is such a sin as usury,\nand what it is, as defined in the Fifth Council of Lateran.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 77, art. 1; Ar., _Pol_., I., ix.;\nSt. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 77, art. 4; _The Month_ for September, 1886; _The\nNineteenth Century _for September, 1877, pp. 181, seq.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nOF MARRIAGE.\n\nSECTION I.--_Of the Institution of Marriage_.\n\n\n1. Marriage is defined by the Canonists: _the union of male and\nfemale, involving their living together in undivided intercourse_. In\nthe present order of Providence, the marriage contract between\nbaptized persons is a sacrament, under the superintendence of the\nChurch, the fertile theme of canonists and theologians. As\nphilosophers, we deal with marriage as it would be, were there no\nsacraments, no Church, and no Incarnation, present or to come. This is\nmarriage in the order of pure nature.\n\n2. It is natural to all animals to propagate their kind, natural\ntherefore also to man; and being natural, it is so far forth also a\ngood thing, unless we are to say with the Manicheans, that the whole\nof corporeal nature is an evil creation. Nay, so urgent is the natural\nappetite here, that we must argue the existence, not of a mere\npermission, but of an exigency of nature, and consequent command of\nGod (_Ethics_, c. vi., s. ii., nn. 11, 12, p. 122), for the\npropagation of the human species. Besides, there is in the individual\nthe duty of self-preservation, therefore likewise in the race. Again,\nthe old cannot subsist at all without the support of the young, nor\nlead a cheerful existence without their company. Imagine a world with\nno youth in it, a winter without a spring!\n\n3. There is this difference between self-preservation and the\npreservation of the race, that if a man will not eat, none can eat for\nhim; but if one man omit the propagation of his kind, another can take\nit up. There are many things necessary for the good of mankind, which\nare not to be done by every individual. Not all are to be soldiers,\nnor all builders, though houses are needful, and sometimes war. Nor is\nit desirable that the human race should be multiplied to its utmost\ncapacity. It is enough here to mention without discussing the teaching\nof Malthus, how population presses on the means of subsistence, the\nlatter increasing in an arithmetical, the former in a geometrical\nratio. Without going the whole way with Malthus, modern economical\nwriters are commonly a little Malthusian, and shrink from giving to\nall and each of their species the word to \"increase and multiply.\"\n\n4. But, it will be said, sickly and consumptive subjects, and still\nmore those who have any tendency to madness, may well be excused from\nhaving children; so too may they be excused whose poverty cannot keep\na family; excused too is the inveterate drunkard, and all habitual\ncriminals, by the principle of heredity, lest they transmit to\nposterity an evil bodily predisposition; but the healthy and the\nvirtuous, men sound of mind and limb, of life unspotted, and in\ncircumstances easy, the flower of the race,--none of these surely\nshould omit to raise up others to wear his lineaments: we want such\nmen multiplied. I answer, on natural grounds alone: You may counsel,\nbut you cannot compel, either by positive law or ethical precept, any\nman or woman to seek to have children. You surely will not breed men\nby selection, like cattle, as Plato proposed. The union of the sexes,\nespecially the married union, is an act to be of all others the most\nentirely free, spontaneous, uncommanded, and unconstrained. It should\nbe a union of intense mutual love. But a man may not meet with any\nwoman that he can love with passion; or, meeting such, he may not be\nable to win her. Nor, considering the indeterminateness of points of\nhealth, capacity, and character, could any certain list be drawn up of\npersons bound to have issue. Thus the utmost that can be argued is a\ncounsel in this direction, a counsel that mankind ordinarily are ready\nenough to comply with. But if any one of seeming aptitude excuses\nhimself on the score of finding no partner to his liking, or of a\ndesire to travel, or of study, or still more, of devotion--and why\nshould not a man, ever of natural piety, go out into solitude, like\nSt. Antony, to hold communion with his Maker?--all these excuses must\nbe taken. It is lawful then in the state of mere nature, upon any one\nof many sufficient grounds, to stand aside and relinquish to your\nneighbour the privilege and responsibility of giving increase to the\nhuman family.\n\n5. But if it is no one individual's duty to propagate his kind, how is\nit that we have laid down that there is such a duty? For the duty is\nincumbent upon them that alone can do it, and it can only be done by\nindividuals. The answer rests on a distinction between _proximate_ and\n_remote_ duty. The propagation of the race is the remote duty of every\nindividual, but at present the proximate, duty of none. A _remote_\nduty is a duty not now pressing but which would have to be performed\nin a certain contingency, which contingency happening, the duty\nbecomes _proximate_. If there appeared a danger of our race dying out,\nthe survivors would be beholden, especially those in power, to take\nsteps for its continuance. Rewards might then be held out, like the\n_jus trium liberorum_ instituted at Rome by Augustus; and if\nnecessary, penalties inflicted on celibacy. In this one extreme case\nthe matrimonial union might be made matter of legal constraint. But\nwhen will such constraint become necessary?\n\n6. The continuance of the human race must be wrought out by man and\nwoman standing in that abiding and exclusive relation to one another,\nwhich constitutes the state of marriage. Nature abhors promiscuity, or\nfree love. It is the delight of writers who use, perhaps abuse,\nDarwin's name, to picture primitive mankind as all living in this\ninfrabestial state. But \"the state supposed is suicidal, and instead\nof allowing the expansion of the human race, would have produced\ninfertility, and probably disease, and at best only allowed the\nexisting numbers to maintain, under the most favourable circumstances,\na precarious existence. To suppose, therefore, that the whole human\nrace for any considerable time were without regular marriage, is\nphysiologically impossible. They could never have survived it.\"\n(Devas, _Studies of Family Life_, \u00a7 101.)\n\n7. Even if the alleged promiscuity ever did prevail--and it may have\nobtained to some extent in certain degraded portions of humanity--its\nprevalence was not its justification. The practice cannot have been\nbefitting in any stage of the evolution of human society. As in all\nthings we suppose our readers to have understanding, we leave it to\nthem to think out this matter for themselves. Suffice it here to put\nforward two grand advantages gained and ends achieved, which are\ncalled by theologians \"the goods of marriage.\"\n\n8. The first good of marriage is the _offspring_ that is born of it.\nNature wills, not only the being, but the well-being of this\noffspring, and that both in the physical and in the moral order. Very\nimportant for the physical health of the child it is, that it be born\nof parents whose animal propensities are under some restraint; such\nrestraint the bond of marriage implies. Then, in the moral order, the\nchild requires to be educated with love, a love that shall be guided\nby wisdom, and supported by firmness. Love, wisdom, and firmness, they\nare the attributes of both parents; but love is especially looked for\nfrom the mother, wisdom and firmness from the father. And, what is\nimportant, both have an _interest_ in the child such as no other human\nbeing can take. We are speaking of the normal father or mother, not of\nmany worthless parents that actually are; for, as Aristotle often lays\nit down, we must not judge of a thing from its bad specimens. No\ndoubt, the State could establish public nurseries and infant schools,\nand provide a staff of nurses and governesses, more scientific\neducators than even the normal parent; but who, that has not been most\nunhappy in his origin, would wish his own infancy to have been reared\nin such a place? What certificated stranger can supply for a mother's\nlove?\n\n9. The second good of marriage is the _mutual faith_ of the partners.\nPlato never made a greater mistake than when he wrote that \"the female\nsex differs from the male in mankind only in this, that the one bears\nchildren, while the other begets them;\" and consequently that \"no\noccupation of social life belongs to a woman because she is a woman,\nor to a man because he is a man, but capacities are equally\ndistributed in both sexes, and woman naturally bears her share in all\noccupations, and man his share, only that in all woman is weaker than\nman.\" (_Republic_, 454 D; 455 D.) Over against this we must set\nAristotle's correction: \"Cohabitation among human kind is not for the\nmere raising of children, but also for the purposes of a partnership\nin life: for from the first the offices of man and woman are distinct\nand different: thus they mutually supply for one another, putting\ntheir several advantages into the common stock.\" (Ar., _Eth_., VIII.,\nxii. 7.) Elsewhere he sets forth these several offices in detail: \"The\nnature of both partners, man and woman, has been prearranged by a\ndivine dispensation in view of their partnership: for they differ by\nnot having their faculties available all to the same effect, but some\neven to opposite effects, though combining to a common end: for God\nmade the one sex stronger and the other weaker, that the one for fear\nmay be the more careful, and the other for courage the more capable of\nself-defence; and that the one may forage abroad, while the other\nkeeps house: and for work the one is made competent for sedentary\nemployments, but too delicate for an out-door life, while the other\nmakes a poor figure at keeping still, but is vigorous and robust in\nmovement; and touching children, the generation is special, but the\nimprovement of the children is the joint labour of both parents, for\nit belongs to the one to nurture, to the other to chastise.\" (Ar.,\n_Econ_., i. 3.)\n\nThese passages are enough to suggest more than they actually contain,\nof two orders of qualities arranged antithetically one over against\nanother in man and woman, so that the one existence becomes\ncomplementary to the other, and the two conjoined form one perfect\nhuman life. This life-communion, called by divines _fides_, or mutual\nfaith, is then the second good fruit of marriage. Indeed it is the\nmore characteristically human good, _offspring_ being rather related\nto the animal side of our nature. But as animal and rational elements\nmake one human being, so do _offspring_ and _mutual faith_ constitute\nthe adequate good of that human union of the sexes, which we call\nmarriage.\n\n10. Whatever good there is in marriage, connections formed by either\nparty beyond the marriage-bed, are agents of confusion to the undoing\nof all that good and the practical dissolution of the marriage.\n\n_Readings_.--_Contra Gentes_, iii., 122; _ib_., iii., 126; _ib_.,\niii., 136; Devas, _Studies of Family Life_, \u00a7\u00a7 90-101, where he\ndisposes of the proof of primitive promiscuity, drawn from the fact\nthat in early societies kinship is traced and property claimed only\nthrough the mother.\n\n\nSECTION II.--_Of the Unity of Marriage_.\n\n\n1. _Both man and woman are by nature incapable of a second marriage,\nwhile their former marriage endures_. No woman can have two husbands\nat the same time, which is _polyandry_; and no man can have two wives\nat the same time, which is _polygamy_. The second marriage attempted\nis not only _illicit_, but _invalid_: it is no contract, no marriage\nat all, and all cohabitation with the second partner is sheer\nadultery. This is a great deal more than saying that polyandry and\npolygamy are unlawful.\n\n2. That is by nature no marriage, which is inconsistent with the\nnatural ends of marriage, _offspring_ and _mutual faith_. But\npolyandry is thus inconsistent with the good of offspring, and\npolygamy with mutual faith. It is not meant that polyandry makes the\nbirth of children impossible. But nature is solicitous, not for the\nmere birth, but for the rearing and good estate of the child born. Now\na child born fatherless is in an ill plight for its future education.\nPosthumous children in lawful wedlock are born fatherless: that is a\ncalamity: but what shall we think of an institution which makes that\ncalamity to the child sure always to occur? Such an institution is\npolyandry. For in it no man can ever know his own child, except by\nlikeness, and likeness in a baby face is largely as you choose to\nfancy it. Again, is the polyandrous wife to be, or not to be, the head\nof the family? If not, the family--for it ought to be one family,\nwhere there is one mother--will have as many heads as she has\nhusbands, a pretty specimen of a house divided against itself. If she\nis to be the head, that is a perversion of the natural order of\npredominance between the sexes. In any case, polyandry is little\nbetter than promiscuity: it is fatal to the family and, fatal to the\nrace; and children born of it are born out of marriage.\n\n3. Against polygamy the case in natural law is not quite so strong as\nagainst polyandry. Still it is a strong case enough in the interest of\nthe wife. The words spoken by the bride to the bridegroom in the\nmarriage rite of ancient Rome, _Ubi tu Caius, ego Caia_, \"Where you\nare master, I am mistress,\" declare the relation of _mutual faith_ as\nit should be, namely, a relation of equality, with some advantage,\npreference, and pre-eminence allowed to the husband, yet not so great\nadvantage as to leave _him_ free where _she_ is straitly bound, and\nreduce her to the servile level of one in a row of minions to his\npassion and sharers of his divided affections. Polygamy in all ages\nhas meant the lowering of womankind:\n\n  He will hold thee--\n  Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse\n\nAt its strongest, the love of man for woman, where polygamy obtains,\nis a flame of passion, that quickly spends itself on one object, and\nthen passes to another; not a rational, enduring, human affection. It\nis also a fact, that the increase of the race is not greater in\npolygamy than in monogamy. Thus, as a practice that runs strongly\ncounter to one of the great purposes of marriage, and is, to say the\nleast, no help to the other, and carries with it the humiliation of\nthe female sex, polygamy is justly argued to be abhorrent to nature.\n\n4. It is beside the purpose of this work to enter into the questions\nof morality that arise out of Holy Scripture, considered as an\ninspired record of the actions of the Saints. But the polygamy of the\npatriarchs of old so readily occurs to mind, that it is worth while to\nmention four conceivable explanations, if only to indicate which is\nand which is not reconcilable with our philosophy. The first\nexplanation would be, that polygamy is not against the natural law,\nbut only against the positive divine law, which was derogated from in\nthis instance. We have made it out to be against the natural law. The\nsecond explanation would be that God gave the patriarchs a\ndispensation, strictly so called, from this point of the natural law.\nWe have maintained that God cannot, strictly speaking, dispense from\none jot or tittle of natural law. (_Ethics_, c. viii., s. iii., nn.\n1-3, p. 147.) [Footnote 19] A third explanation would be founded on\nthe words of St. Paul to the Athenians (Acts xvii. 30), about \"God\noverlooking the times of this ignorance.\" This would suppose that\nmankind, beginning in monogamy, from passion and ignorance lapsed\nquickly into polygamy: that the patriarchs in good faith conformed to\nthe practice of their time; and that God, in their case as with the\nrest of mankind, awaited His own destined hour for the light of better\nknowledge to break upon the earth. A fourth explanation would be this.\nGod by His supreme dominion can dissolve any marriage. By the same\ndominative power He can infringe and partially make void any marriage\ncontract without entirely undoing it. The marriage contract, existing\nin its fulness and integrity, is a bar to any second similar contract,\nas we have proved. But what, on this theory, the Lord God did with the\nmarriages of the patriarchs was this: He partially unravelled and\nundid the contract, so as to leave room for a second contract, and a\nthird, each having the bare essentials of a marriage, but none of them\nthe full integrity.\n\n[Footnote 19: _Dispensatio_ is the Latin for [Greek: oikonomia], and\nin this case means an \"economy\" of law, in the sense that God did not\npress the marriage law beyond the capacity of the subject (Matt. xix.\n7,8). See my Newman Index, s.v. _Economy_. The schoolmen missed this\nmeaning, and took _dispensatio_ in the canonical sense.]\n\nBut, for the author's final view, see Appendix.\n\n_Readings_.--_Contra Gent_., iii., 124; Suarez, _De Legibus_, II.,\nxv., 28.\n\n\nSECTION III.--_Of the Indissolubility of Marriage_.\n\n\n1. This section is pointed not so much against a _separation_--which\nmay take place by mutual consent, or without that, by grievous\ninfidelity or cruelty of one party--as against a divorce _a vinculo_,\nwhich is a dissolution of a marriage in the lifetime of the parties,\nenabling each of them validly and lawfully to contract with some\nother. The unity of marriage is more essential than its\nindissolubility. Nature is more against polygamy than against divorce.\nEven Henry VIII. stuck at polygamy. In the present arrangement, a\ndivorce _a vinculo_ is obtainable in three cases. First, when of two\nunbaptized persons, man and wife, the one is converted, and the\nunconverted party refuses to live peaceably in wedlock, the convert\nmay marry again, and thereupon also the other party. So the Church\nunderstands St. Paul, I Cor. vii. 13, 15. Again, the Pope can grant a\ndivorce _a vinculo_ in the marriage of baptized persons before\ncohabitation. Such a marriage in that stage is also dissolved by the\nprofession of one of the parties in a religious order. Beyond these\nthree cases, the Catholic Church allows neither the lawfulness nor the\nvalidity of any divorce _a vinculo_ by whomsoever given to whatsoever\nparties.\n\n2. It is ours to investigate the lie of the law of nature, having due\nregard to the points marked, antecedently to our search, by the\ndefinition of infallible authority. Nothing can be done in the Church\nagainst the law of nature: since therefore divorce _a vinculo_ is\nsometimes recognized in the Church, it may be contended that marriage\nis not by nature absolutely indissoluble. On the other hand, it is a\nproposition censured by Pius IX. in the Syllabus, n. 67: \"By the law\nof nature the bond of marriage is not indissoluble.\" Thus it appears\nwe must teach that marriage is naturally indissoluble, still not\nabsolutely so, just as a safe is justly advertised as fire-proof, when\nit will resist any conflagration that is likely to occur, though it\nwould be consumed in a blast-furnace or in a volcano. So marriage is\nindissoluble, if it holds good for all ordinary contingencies, for all\ndifficulties that may be fairly reckoned with and regarded as not\nquite improbable, for every posture of affairs that the contracting\nparties before their union need at all consider. Or, if the three\ncases of divorce actually allowed are to be traced to the dominative\npower of God (_Ethics_, c. vii., n. 2, p. 129), we may teach that\nmarriage is by nature absolutely indissoluble, and that divorce is as\nmuch against the law of nature as the killing of an innocent man,\nexcepting in the case of God's dominion being employed to quash the\ncontract or the right to life. But against this latter view is to be\nset the consideration, that God is manifestly averse to using His\ndominative power to overturn natural ordinances. He does not hand the\ninnocent over to death except in the due course of physical nature:\nwhy then should He ever put forth His power against the marriage-tie,\nunless it be that nature herself in certain cases postulates its\nseverance? But if such is ever nature's petition, the universal and\nunconditional permanence of the marriage-tie cannot be a requisition\nof nature, nor is divorce absolutely excluded by natural law.\n\n3. Thomas Sanchez, than whom there is no greater authority on this\nsubject, records his opinion that \"a certain inseparability is of the\nnature of marriage,\" but that \"absolute indissolubility does not\nattach to marriage by the law of nature.\" He adds: \"if we consider\nmarriage as it is an office of nature for the propagation of the race,\nit is hard to render a reason why for the wife's barrenness the\nhusband should not be allowed to put her away, or marry another.\" (_De\nMatrimonio_, I. ii., d. 13, n. 7.) We proceed to prove that \"a certain\ninseparability is of the nature of marriage,\" so that marriage may\ntruly be said to be indissoluble by the law of nature. Whether this\nnatural indissolubility is absolute, and holds for every conceivable\ncontingency, the student must judge by the proofs.\n\n4. If a divorce _a vinculo_ were a visible object on the matrimonial\nhorizon, the parties would be strongly encouraged thereby to form\nillicit connections, in the expectation of shortly having any one of\nthem they chose ratified and sanctified by marriage. Marriage would be\nentered upon lightly, as a thing easily done and readily undone, a\nstate of things not very far in advance of promiscuity. Between\nmarried persons little wounds would fester, trifling sores would be\nangered into ulcers: any petty strife might lead to a fresh contract,\nmade in haste and repented of with speed: then fond, vain regrets for\nthe former partnership. Affinity would be a loose bond of friendship\nbetween families; and after divorce it would turn to enmity. The fair\nbut weaker sex would suffer the more by this as by all other\nmatrimonial perversions: for the man has not so much difficulty in\nlighting upon another love, but the woman--she illustrates the Greek\nproverb of a fallen estate:\n\n  Mighty was Miletus in the bygone days of yore.\n\nThe divorced wife offers fewer attractions than the widow.\n\n5. It is well to bear in mind that, at least by the positive ordinance\nof God in the present order of His Providence, the marriage of\nbaptized persons, after cohabitation, is absolutely indissoluble; and\nno marriage can be dissolved except in the three cases specified. (n.\n1.)\n\n_Readings_.--Leo XIII., Encyclical on Christian Marriage, _Arcanum\ndivina sapientia_; St. Thomas, _Contra Gent_., iii, 123.\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nOF PROPERTY.\n\nSECTION I.--_Of Private Property_.\n\n\n1. Property was called by the Romans _res familiaris_, the stuff and\nsubstance of the family. Property may be held by the individual for\nhimself alone: but any large accumulation of it is commonly held by\nthe head of a family, actual or potential, for the family; and he\ncherishes it for the sake of his family as much as, or even more than,\nfor his own sake. This is to be borne in mind, for many errors in\ntheory and in practice spring from a large proprietor figuring as an\nindividual, and not as a sort of _corporation sole_ in his capacity of\npaterfamilias.\n\n2. We have seen (c. v., s. i., n. 2, p. 245) how man acquires a right\nover external goods, as it were setting the seal of his own\npersonality upon them. It appears upon further consideration, that\nthis right must extend beyond the mere making things your own for\nimmediate use and consumption; it must extend to the _storing_ of\nthings for future and perennial use. Otherwise we have Communism.\nCommunism allows men to hold property collectively in a common stock,\nand allows each member of the community to take for his peculiar own\nout of that stock whatever for the moment he needs; but it will not\npermit him to appropriate private means of subsistence against any\nnotable time to come. Communism is very good in a family, which is an\nimperfect community, part of a higher community, the State. It is very\ngood in a monastery, which is like a family: again, very good in the\nprimitive Church at Jerusalem, which existed for the time on\nquasi-monastic lines: very good even in a perfect community, if such\nthere be, of tropical savages, for whom nature supplies all things,\nbananas to eat and palm-leaves to wear, without any human labour of\nproduction; but very bad and quite unworkable everywhere else. St.\nThomas, following Aristotle, puts it pithily and sufficiently:\n\"Private property is necessary to human life for three reasons: first,\nbecause every one is more careful to look after what belongs to\nhimself alone than after what is common to all or to many, since all\nmen shun labour and leave to others what is matter of joint concern,\nas happens where there are too many servants: on another ground,\nbecause human affairs are more orderly handled, if on each individual\nthere rests his own care of managing something, whereas there would be\nnothing but confusion, if every one without distinction were to have\nthe disposal of any thing he chose to take in hand: thirdly, because\nby this means society is the rather kept at peace, every member being\ncontent with his own possession, whence we see that among those who\nhold any thing in common and undivided ownership strifes not\nunfrequently arise.\" (2a 2\u00e6, q. 66, art. 2, in corp.)\n\n3. If any revolutionist yet will have the hardihood to say with\nProudhon, \"Property is theft,\" we shall ask him, \"From whom?\" He will\nanswer of course, \"From the community.\" But that answer supposes the\ncommunity to have flourished, a wealthy corporation, before private\nproperty began. Needless to say that history knows nothing of such a\ncorporation. The saying, that _in the beginning all things were in\ncommon_, is not true in the sense that they were _positively_ in\ncommon, like the goods of a corporation, which are collective\nproperty: but simply that they were _negatively_ in common, that is,\nnot property at all, neither of corporation nor of individual, but\nleft in the middle open to all comers, for each to convert into\nproperty by his occupation, and by his labour to enhance and multiply.\nThis must be modified by the observation, that the first occupants\nwere frequently heads of families, or of small clans, and occupied and\nheld for themselves and their people.\n\n4. The saying, that _all things are in common by the law of nature_,\nmust be received with still greater reserve. Really with as much truth\nit might be said that all men are unmarried, or unclad, or uneducated,\nby the law of nature. Nature unaided by human volition provides\nneither property, nor clothing, nor marriage, nor education, for man.\nBut nature bids, urges and requires man to bestir his voluntary\nenergies for the securing of all these things. The law of nature does\nnot prescribe this or that particular distribution of goods, as\nneither does it join this man with that woman in marriage, nor insist\non plaids rather than coats, nor set all boys to learn algebra, nor\nfix a ritual for divine worship; but it insists in the vague upon some\nworship, some education, some clothing, some marriage, and some\ndistribution of goods, leaving the determination in each case to\nchoice, custom, and positive law, human and divine.\n\n5. All property that can ever be immediately serviceable for saving\nhuman life, is held under this burden, that a perishing\nfellow-creature, who cannot otherwise help himself in a case of\n_extreme need_ (c. iv., n. 8, p. 243), may make such use of the\nproperty of another as shall suffice to rescue him from perishing\noff-hand. If he draws largely on another for this purpose, he ought to\nmake compensation afterwards, if he has the means. This has been taken\nfor a piece of the primeval rock of Communism cropping up from\nunderneath subsequent human formations,--quite a mistaken notion.\nThere is no Communism whatever in the transaction. Up to the instant\nwhen the needy man seizes the article that he requires to save him\nfrom death, that article still belongs to the owner from whom he takes\nit, who is bound in charity to give it to the needy party, but not in\njustice. Extreme need does not confer ownership, nor dispossess any\nprevious owner: but it confers the right of taking what is another's\nas though it belonged to no one; and in the taking, the thing passes\ninto the ownership of the new occupant, so that for the previous owner\nforcibly to resume it would be a violation of justice. English law\ndoes not recognise this right--properly enough, for with us it would\nbe made a plea for much stealing--but refers the destitute to the\nparish. The law is considerately worked by the magistrates. A starving\nman, who took a loaf off a baker's tray, has been known to be\nsentenced to a few hours' imprisonment with two good meals.\n\n6. As St. Paul says (2 Cor. xii. 14), \"parents ought to lay up for\ntheir children,\" that they in whom their own existence is continued,\nmay not be left unprovided for at their decease. The amount laid up\nnecessary for this purpose, ought not to be diverted from it. Thus\nmuch at least Natural Law can tell us of the right of inheritance. And\nconcerning testamentary right these natural considerations are\nforthcoming, that it adds to the desirability of property, that it\nsecures deference to the wealthy in their old age, and that the\nabolition of it might be frustrated by an apparatus of confidential\n_donationes inter vivos_, that is to say, making the property over in\ntrust before death. Further enlargement of the natural basis of\ntestamentary right may be effected by the judicious reader.\n\n_Readings_.--Ar., _Pol_., II., v., nn. 1-16; De Lugo, _De just. et\njure_, vi., nn. 2-6; _ib_., xxi,, nn. 143, 144; Locke, _Of Civil\nGovernment_, c.v.; _id_., _Of Government_, nn. 88, 89.\n\n\nSECTION II.--_Of Private Capital_.\n\n\n1. Reverting to a former section (c. v., s. v., nn. 1-5, p. 255) we\nlay down this distinction: Goods held for their _use value_ are\n_consumer's wealth_: goods held for their _market value_ are\n_producer's wealth_, otherwise called _capital_. Capital then is that\nwealth which a man holds for the purpose of gaining further wealth by\nmeans of commercial exchange. It is represented by the razors that are\nmade, not to mow the manly beard, or youthful moustache, of the maker,\nbut, as the Yorkshire vendor put it, \"to sell.\"\n\n2. Those economists who would allow no private ownership of capital,\nbut would have all capital to be State property, are called\nSocialists. They stand distinctly apart from the Communists, whom we\nhave been labouring to refute in the last section. The Communist\nforbids all private property: the Socialist allows private property,\nbut in the shape of _consumer's wealth_ alone. The Communist ignores\nthe necessity of labour: the Socialist schemes to make all men work.\nThe Communist contemplates a hand-to-mouth dispensation of all things:\nthe Socialist locks all things up, wages in private coffers, capital\nin government stores. The Communist is a madman: the speculations of\nthe Socialist are sometimes deep.\n\n3. To what are we to attribute the rise of Socialism, and its growth\nand propagation so fast and vigorous, that, its supporters say with\nsome colour of evidence, it is a theory destined within a measurable\nspace of time to pass into actual practice, whether men will or no?\nThe cause is not far to seek. There has lighted a plague upon all\ncivilized countries, an outbreak fearful and severe: only by the great\nblessing of Providence, joined to drastic remedial measures on our\npart, can we cope with the evil. The plague is a cancerous formation\nof luxury growing out of a root of pauperism. It is a disease old as\nthe world, but the increase of commerce and intercommunication has\noccasioned its bursting upon our generation in a peculiarly virulent\nform. And what is more, ours being a talking age, the disease is made\nthe staple of speeches infinite, and the masses are clamouring for a\nremedy. The remedy proposed is Socialism.\n\n4. Socialism in its essence is an attempt to transfer to the State,\ngoverned by universal suffrage, the wealth, and with the wealth the\nsocial duties, of what have hitherto been the wealthy and governing\nclasses. It is not enough for the multitude that they are getting the\npolitical power out of the hands of the landlord and the capitalist:\nthey envy the one his broad acres, and the other his investments. All\nmust be theirs, sovereignty and wealth alike. If wealth has its\nduties, the people collectively with cheerful acceptance will\nundertake those duties. \"It shall be ours, not only to be king, but to\nbe employer, patron, landlord, educator. We will assign to the workman\nhis wages, just and ample and perennial: we will adjust production to\ndemand: we will be the restorers of agriculture: we will monopolise\nthe carrying-trade: we alone will sell whatever shall be sold: we will\nwash the workman in public baths: his taste shall be elevated by our\nstatues and pictures, our theatres, our music-halls, and our churches;\nwe will gratify his curiosity with our news-agencies, feed his thought\nwith our popular philosophy, educate his children as our own in our\nprimary and secondary schools. Furthermore, we will provide the long\ndesiderated career open to talents. The stupid boy, though his father\nwas our Prime Minister, shall be made a cabin-boy, or a scavenger's\nassistant, an awful example to young gentlemen who fail to pass the\nGovernment examinations: while we will pick up, not the gutter child,\nfor there shall be no more children in gutters, but the son of the\nwoman at the mill, and testing him and assigning his career, first by\nschool examinations, and then by his official performances, we will\nmake him in time Poet Laureate or President of the Board of Trade,\naccording to the bent of his genius.\" The astonished workman turns\nround upon the exhibitors of this fairy vision: \"And pray who are\nYou?\" \"Oh, you, we, the people, all of us together. Come put your\nshoulder to the wheel, and up goes our enterprise. Or rather our first\nmotion is downwards: down with landlords and cotton-lords and lords of\nparliament, down with contractors and stock-jobbers and all who live\non the interest of their money, and then our honourable multitude will\npossess and administer and govern.\"\n\n5. If angels are to hold the collective ownership of capital and the\ngovernment of men in the Socialist Commonwealth; or if every citizen,\nretaining in his private capacity all the follies and vices that human\nflesh is heir to, shall still be vested in angelic attributes,\nwhenever he sits as legislator or judge, or acts on the executive of a\nSocialist commission,--then this new Commonwealth is likely to prove a\nblessed substitute for the rule of the higher classes, which in one\nway or another has hitherto obtained in civilized society. But till\nangelic attributes descend on earth, we shall not find a cure for the\nevils of cities and countries in simply doubling the functions of\ngovernment, and placing all sovereign rights, and all the most\nimportant of proprietory rights and duties, in the hands of a\nnumerical majority.\n\n6. Capital, as we have seen, is a collection of market or exchange\nvalues in view of further exchange. If we call supply S and demand D,\nmarket value is a social estimate of the fraction D/S. Another\ndefinition has been given: Market value is a social estimate of the\namount of socially useful labour which a given article contains. This\nsecond definition contains this much of truth in it, that directly as\nthe demand for an article, and inversely as the supply of the same, is\nthe amount of labour which men find it worth their while to spend upon\nthat article for commercial purposes. Otherwise the definition is\nunsatisfactory and involved, and leads to endless discussion. Without\nentering into these discussions, we will remark an ambiguity in the\nterm on which they all roll, the term _labour_, which ambiguity is at\nthe bottom of three fourths of the sophistries of popular Socialism.\n\n7. There were two pillars put at the entrance of Solomon's temple, one\non the right hand and the other on the left: that which was on the\nright hand he called, according to the Septuagint, _Direction_,\n[Greek: katorthosis], and that on the left hand, _Strength_, [Greek:\nischus]. (2 Par. iii. 17.) Further we are told that Solomon set\nseventy thousand men to carry burdens on their shoulders, and eighty\nthousand to hew stones in the mountains, and three thousand six\nhundred to be overseers of the work of the people. (2 Par. ii. 18.)\nThe history is manifest. Strength and Direction build the Temple:\nStrength, or Manual Labour, represented by the hodmen and quarrymen,\nand the rest of the \"hands:\" Direction, or Mental Labour, represented\nby the overseers. Yet not by them alone: surely we must count in as\ndoers of mental labour the designer of the Temple, or at least of its\ndecorations, that \"most wise and skilful man, my father Hiram;\" and\nstill more King Solomon himself and David, the two royal minds that\noriginated and perfected the idea; and David's generals, Joab and\nBanaias, who secured the peace that was necessary as a condition of\nthe building; and innumerable other men of place and power in the\nnation, but for whose thought and prudence the strength of the workman\nwould have been thrown away like a river poured out in the Libyan\ndesert. From this example, eked out with a little thought of his own,\nthe reader may estimate the wisdom and credit of those who tell\nfactory hands that it is their labour which produces all the wealth of\ntheir employer, and that, in the day when every man shall receive his\ndue, the employer shall be made a workmen like themselves, and his\nwealth shall go to the increase of their common wages.\n\n8. Certainly, it will be said, the employer should be paid for his\nmental labour, but why at so enormously higher a rate than the manual\nlabourers? If we say, \"because his labour is more valuable,\" some\nSocialists would join issue on the score that labour is valuable\naccording to the time that it takes, and the employer works shorter\nhours than his men. But this taking account of _quantity_ alone in\nlabour is an ignoring of the distinction which we have drawn of two\n_qualities_ or _orders_ of labour, mental and manual; one more\nvaluable than the other as being scarcer and in greater demand, so\nthat a short time of one may be set against a long time of another,\nlike a little gold against a heap of brass. Any man accustomed to both\norders of labour must have observed, that while he can work with his\nhands at almost any time when he is well, the highest labour of his\nintellect can be done only at rare intervals, and that in one happy\nhour he will sometimes accomplish more than in a day. As the same man\ndiffers from himself at different times, so does one man from another\nin the average value of his mental efforts: this value is not measured\nby time.\n\n9. Abandoning this untenable position, Socialists still ask: \"But is\nthe difference in the value of their labour quite so vast as is the\ninterval between the profits of the employer and the pay of his poor\ndrudges?\" Honestly we cannot say that it is. We are fain to fall back\nupon the consideration, that the employer contributes, not only his\nbrains to the work, but his capital. \"Ah, that is just it,\" is the\nSocialists' quick reply: \"We propose to relieve him of his capital,\nand remunerate his brainwork only: by that means we shall be able to\npay sufficiently handsome wages for management, according to the ratio\nof mental and manual labour, and at the same time have a sufficiently\nlarge surplus over to raise the wages of his needy comrades, those\nseventy thousand hodmen and eighty thousand quarrymen.\"\n\n10. Two reasons may be given for turning away from this seductive\nproposal, and leaving capital (not _consumer's wealth_ merely) in\nprivate hands,--and that not only in the hands of what we may call\n_mentally productive capitalists_, men who oversee their own\nenterprises and manage their own workmen, but even of _unproductive\ncapitalists_, men who have shares in and reap profits out of a\nbusiness which they never meddle with. The first reason is, because\nthis position of the productive, and still more that of the\nunproductive capitalist, is a prize for past industry expended upon\nproduction. To understand this, we must recollect once more that men\nwork, not as individuals, but as heads of families. Every working man,\nfrom the sailor to the shop-boy, covets for himself two things, pay\nand leisure. The same two things do mentally productive labourers\ncovet. But they covet them, not for themselves alone, but for their\nfamilies, and more even for their families than for themselves. They\nweary their brains, planning and managing, that in old age they may\nretire on a competence, and hand down that same competence,\nundiminished by their having lived on it, to their children. Thus the\nyoung man works and produces, that the old man, and the child to come,\nmay have exemption from productive labour, an abiding exemption, which\ncannot be unless he is allowed to live on the interest of accumulated\ncapital. These positions of affluence and rest--sinecures they are, so\nfar as production is concerned--are the prizes awarded to the best\nproductive labour. What they who do that labour aim at, is not wages\nbut exemption from toil: their wish is not so much to be wealthy and\nhave leisure themselves as to found a family in wealth and\nleisure,--the one possible foundation of such a family being a store\nof private capital. Socialists of course will offer nobler prizes for\nthe best productive labour,--honour, and the satisfaction of having\nserved the community, a satisfaction which they would have men trained\nfrom childhood to relish above all other joys. Unfortunately, this\ntaste is yet unformed, and the stimulus of these nobler prizes is\nstill unproved by experience. Meanwhile men do work hard, to the\nadvantage of the community, for the ignobler prize of family affluence\nand ease. Socialists are going to take away the good boy's cake and\ngive him a sunflower.\n\n11. The second reason for leaving capital in private, even\nunproductive hands, begins from the consideration, that the highest\nend of man on earth is not production, just as it is not consumption,\nof the necessaries and luxuries of life. Aristotle bids us, as much as\npossible in this life, \"to play the immortal ([Greek: athanatizein]),\nand do our utmost to live by the best element in our nature,\" that is,\nthe intellect. (_Ethics_, c. ii., s. ii., n. 7, p. 9.) There is the\nintellectual life of the statesman in the practical order: and in the\nspeculative order, that of the poet, of the artist, of the scholar, of\nthe devout contemplative--the outcome of learned and pious leisure,\nand freedom from vulgar cares. One man ascending into this higher and\nbetter region helps his neighbour to follow. The neighbour can follow,\neven though he be not free from productive cares, but the leader ought\nto be free, if he is to soar a high, sustained and powerful flight,\nand guide others aloft. These unproductive capitalist families then\nform what we may call, by a figure which rhetoricians call _oxymoron_,\nsomething which comes very near a bull,--we may call them an _endowed\nlay-clergy_: they are told off from the rest of men to lead the way in\ndoing, and causing to be done, the highest work of humanity. The\nabsence of the First Class of Workers would render the Socialist\nUtopia a very vulgar place.\n\n12. Nature's ideal is: _To all, plenty: to some, superabundance_. The\nsuperabundance of some is not necessarily incompatible with all having\nplenty: nay it is a positive furtherance of that and of still higher\nends, as has been shown. But it is a position of advantage that may be\nabused, and is abused most wantonly: hence there comes to be question\nof Socialism.\n\n13. The Socialism above described is of the old sort, called\nCollectivism. A new variety has appeared, Syndicalism. Syndicalism is\nopposed to nationalisation and centralisation of capital and power: it\nwould convert workers into owners in each separate department of\nlabour,--colliers to own the coal, railwaymen the lines and\nrolling-stock, agricultural labourers the land, and so on.\nCollectivism might conceivably be put in practice, given a\nsufficiently high standard of social virtue, a quality which\nSocialists are not in the way to get. As for Syndicalism in practice,\nI leave that to the reader to imagine. Syndicalism stigmatises\nCollectivism as a gross tyranny. Thus divided into two irreconcilable\nfactions, the Socialists are not a happy family.\n\n_Readings_.--_The Creed of Socialism_, by Joseph Rickaby\n(Anti-socialist Union, Victoria Street, Westminster).\n\n\nSECTION III.--_Of Landed Property_.\n\n\n1. Land, like cotton, timber, or iron-ore, is a raw material wrought\nup by man. Land, like any other thing, becomes an article of property\noriginally by occupation, and its value is enhanced by labour. There\nis no more reason why all land, or the rents of all land, should\nbelong to the State, than why all house property, or all house rents,\nshould belong to the State. If the people need land to live on, so do\nthey need houses to live in, coals to burn, and shoes to wear.\nSocialism, once admitted, cannot be confined to land alone. It will\nexterminate \"the lord manufacturer\" as remorselessly as it\nexterminates the landlord.\n\n2. Every man, it is contended, has a right to live on the fruits of\nthe soil. The proposition is needlessly long. It should be put simply:\nEvery man has a right to live. For as to living on the fruits of the\nsoil, there is absolutely nothing else that man can live on. All human\nnutriment whatever is derived from what geologists call pulverised\nrocks, that is, soil. But if it is meant that every man has a right to\nlive on the fruits of some soil or land of his own, where is the\nproof? So long as the fruits of the earth do not fail to reach a man's\nmouth, what matters it whose earth it is that grows them? Some of the\nrichest as well as the poorest members of the community are landless\nmen. Confiscate rent to take the place of taxation, and some of the\nrichest men in the community will go tax-free.\n\n3. The land on which a nation is settled, we are told, belongs to that\nnation. Yes, it belongs to them as individuals, yet not so that a\nforeigner is excluded by natural law from owning any portion of it.\nBut the government have over the land, and over all the property upon\nit, what is called _altum dominium_, or _eminent domain_, which is a\npower of commanding private proprietors to part with their property\nfor public purposes, with compensation, whenever compensation is\npossible. Thus when a railway gets its Act of Parliament, the owners\nthrough whose estates the projected line is to run are compelled by an\nexercise of _eminent domain_ to sell to the company. By the same power\nthe government in a besieged city, when hard pressed, might seize upon\nall the stores of food and fuel within the walls, even without\ncompensation. _Altum dominium_, which is not dominion properly so\ncalled, is sufficient for all national emergencies, without making the\nState the universal landlord.\n\n4. It seems impossible to imagine an emergency that would justify any\ngovernment in nationalizing all the land at once without compensation.\nNone but a wealthy government could afford the compensation requisite;\nand the emergency would have to be severe indeed, to make it wise of\nthem to incur such an expense. We can imagine a government in a newly\nsettled country starting on the understanding that all land was State\nland, and that all ground rents were to be paid into the State\nexchequer. This would amount to taking rents for taxes; and instead of\na landlord in every district we should have a tax-gatherer. Probably\nfurther taxation would be necessary: in England at any rate the annual\nexpenditure exceeds the rental by some twenty millions. Government, we\nmay suppose, would grant leases of land: when the lease fell in, the\nrent would be raised for unearned increment, and lowered for\ndecrement, but not raised for improvements effected by the tenant\nhimself. In that case the tenant in two or three generations might be\na quasi-proprietor, his rent being ridiculously small in comparison\nwith the annual value of the holding. The improvements might be the\nimprovements of his grandfather, or even those of a complete stranger,\nfrom whom he had bought the tenancy. Anyhow they might be the better\nportion of the value of the land, and would not be government\nproperty. Or would the government insist on purchasing the\nimprovements, and look out for a new tenant paying a higher rent?\nLastly, would the government themselves make such improvements as many\nan English landlord makes now, for love of the country about him and\nlove of his own people?\n\n5. It would be most difficult to prevent private property arising in\nland, even if it all did belong to the State to start with. \"Suppose\n\u00a310 paid for a piece of land for a year, and suppose the occupier\nsaid, Let me have it for ten years, and I will give you \u00a320 a year,\nought not the State to accept the offer? Then suppose he said, Give it\nme for ever and I will pay \u00a330 a year? Again, ought not the State to\nagree? He would then be that hateful creature a landowner, subject to\na rent-charge. Now suppose the State wanted to do work and had to\nborrow money, and suppose he offered to give for the redemption of the\nrent-charge a sum which could not be borrowed for less than \u00a340 a\nyear. Again, ought not the State to accept his offer? Yet in that case\nhe would become a hopelessly unmitigated landlord.\" (Lord Bramwell.)\n\n6. When there is an alarm of fire in a theatre, any one who could\nconvince the audience that there was time enough for them all to file\nout in slow succession by the door, would avert the greatest danger\nthat threatened them, that of being crushed and trampled on by one\nanother. Mankind in pursuit of wealth are like a crowd rushing\nexcitedly through a narrow place of exit. Whatever man, or body of\nmen, or institution, or doctrine, will moderate this \"love of money\"\n([Greek: philargyria]), which St. Paul (1 Tim. vi. 10) declares to be\n\"the root of all evils,\" the same is a benefactor to the human race,\npreventing that cruel oppression of the poor, which comes of\nruthlessly buying land, labour, everything, in the cheapest market and\nselling it in the dearest. The landlord who always evicts, if he is\nnot paid the highest competition rent,--the employer who brings in\nfrom afar the hands that will work at the lowest starvation\nwage,--these vultures are worse enemies to society than Socialists,\nfor they occasion Socialism.\n\n7. Socialism, whether in land alone or in all capital, is an endeavour\nto accomplish by State control the results that ought to be achieved\nby private virtue. A landlord, or an employer, who remembers his\nposition as being what Homer calls \"a king of men,\" [Greek: anax\nandron],--remembers too, with Aristotle, that a prince exists for his\npeople,--and who, besides a quasi-royal care for the body of tenantry\nor workmen over whom he presides, has something too of a fatherly\ninterest in every one of them, their persons and their families,\nholding it to be a personal tie with himself, to be in his employment\nor settled upon his land,--such a man and the multitude of such men\nform the best bulwark a country can possess against Socialism. Such a\nlandlord or employer is a _praesens numen_ to his workpeople or\ntenants. In the absence of this protective, personal influence of the\nrich over the poor; in the disorganization of society consequent upon\nthe misconduct of its subordinate chiefs; in the stand-off attitude of\nthe higher classes, and the defiant independence of the lower; and in\nthe greed of material goods that is common to them both, there lurks a\ndanger of unknown magnitude to our modern civilization.\n\n_Reading_.--Leo XIII. on the Condition of Labour, Encyclical of 15th\nMay, 1891. [Footnote 20]\n\n[Footnote 20: \"The right of property attaches to things produced by\nlabour, but cannot attach to things created by God.\" So Henry George,\n_Condition of Labour_, pp. 3, 4. How then do we read in _Progress and\nPoverty_, bk. 7. ch. 1: \"The pen with which I am writing is justly\nmine,\" and that, in the last resort, on account of \"the rights of\nthose who dug the material from the ground and converted it into a\npen\"? Was not that material, iron-ore, \"created by God,\" equally with\nany other portion of the earth's crust that we may please to call\n_land_?]\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nOF THE STATE.\n\nSECTION I.--_Of the Monstrosities called Leviathan and Social\nContract_.\n\n\n1. Thomas Hobbes, than whom never was greater genius for riding an\nidea, right or wrong, to the full length that it will go, was born in\n1588: and notwithstanding his twelve pipes of tobacco daily, his\nvigorous constitution endured to his ninety-second year. The first\nhalf of his life fell in with the age of the greatest predominance of\nCalvinism. In religion he was scarcely a Calvinist, indeed he laboured\nunder a suspicion of atheism: but his philosophy is accurately cast in\nthe mould of the grim theology of Geneva. We may call it the\nphilosophy of Calvinism. It has for its central tenet, that human\nnature either was from the first, or is become, bad, \"desperately\nwicked,\" depraved, corrupt, and utterly abominable, so that whatever\nis natural to man, in so far forth as it is natural, is simply evil.\nThe remedy for our evil nature Hobbes finds in no imputed merits of a\nRedeemer, no irresistible victorious grace, but in the masterful\ncoercion of a despotic civil power. But, lest any one should suspect\nthat there was at least this good in man, a propensity to civil\nsociety and obedience to the rulers of cities, Hobbes insists that man\nis by nature wholly averse to society with his kind: that the type of\nthe race is an Ishmael, \"a wild man, his hand against all men, and all\nmen's hands against him:\" in fact that the state of nature is a state\nof war all round. He writes (_Leviathan_, c. xiii.): \"Men have no\npleasure, but on the contrary a great deal of grief, in keeping\ncompany where there is no power able to overawe them all. For every\nman looketh that his companion should value him at the same rate he\nsets on himself; and upon all signs of contempt or undervaluing\nnaturally endeavours, as far as he dares (which among them that have\nno common power to keep them quiet, is far enough to make them destroy\neach other), to extort a greater value from his contemners by damage,\nand from others by the example.... Hereby it is manifest, that during\nthe time that men live without a power to keep them all in awe, they\nare in that condition which is called war, and such a war as is of\nevery man against every man.... In such condition there is no place\nfor industry, because the fruit thereof is uncertain, and consequently\nno culture of the earth: no navigation, nor use of the commodities\nthat may be imported by sea: no commodious building: no instruments of\nmoving and removing such things as require much force: no knowledge of\nthe face of the earth: no account of time: no arts, no letters, no\nsociety; and which is worst of all, continual fear and danger of\nviolent death; and the life of man, solitary, poor, nasty, brutish,\nand short.... To this war of every man against every man this also is\nconsequent, that nothing can be unjust. The notions of right and\nwrong, justice and injustice, have there no place. Where there is no\ncommon power there is no law: where no law, no injustice.... It is\nconsequent also to the same condition, that there be no propriety, no\ndominion, no _mine_ and _thine_ distinct, but only that to be every\nman's that he can get, and for so long as he can keep it.\"\n\n2. Such is what Hobbes is pleased to call \"the natural condition of\nmankind,\" a condition which man would have every natural reason for\ngetting out of with all speed, were he ever so unhappy as to fall into\nit. It is true that, apart from civil government, violence would reign\non earth. But it is not true that to live apart from civil government\nis the natural condition of mankind. It is not true that the only\nmotive which draws men into civil society is the fear of violence, as\nthough there were no such facts and exigencies of human nature as\nsympathy, friendship, intellectual curiosity, art, religion. It is not\ntrue that the one reason for the existence of the civil power consists\nin this, that without the restraining hand of the magistrate men would\nbite and devour one another. Lastly, it is not true that all rights,\nnotably rights of property, are the creation of the State. A man is a\nman first and a citizen afterwards. As a man, he has certain rights\nactual and potential (c. v., s. i., p. 244): these the State exists,\nnot to create, for they are prior to it in the order of nature, but to\ndetermine them, where indeterminate, to sanction and to safeguard\nthem.\n\nNatural rights go before legal rights, and are presupposed to them, as\nthe law of nature before that law which is civil and positive. It is\nan \"idol of the tribe\" of lawyers to ignore all law but that upon\nwhich their own professional action takes its stand.\n\n3. \"In considering man as he must have come from the hands of nature,\"\nwrites Jean Jacques Rousseau, \"I behold an animal less strong than\nsome, less active than others, but upon the whole in organism having\nthe advantage of them all. I behold him appeasing his hunger under an\noak, slaking his thirst in the first brook, finding a bed at the foot\nof the same tree that furnished his repast, and there you have all his\ncravings satisfied.\" (_Discours sur l'origine de l'in\u00e9galit\u00e9 _.) This\nnoble savage--quite a contrast to Hobbes's ruffian primeval, \"nasty,\nbrutish,\" and short-lived--observes and imitates the industry, and\ngradually raises himself to the instinct, of the beasts among whom he\nlives. His constitution is robust, and almost inaccessible to malady.\nHe attains to old age, free from gout and rheumatism. He surpasses the\nfiercest wild beasts in address as much as they surpass him in\nstrength, and so arrives to dwell among them without fear. Yet withal\nhe is distinguished from brutes by freewill and perfectibility,\nqualities which gradually draw him out of his primeval condition of\ntranquil innocence, lead him through a long course of splendours and\nerrors, of vices and virtues, and end by making him a tyrant at once\nover nature and over himself.\n\n4. Rousseau's life, 1715-1778, was a continual protest against the\nformalism, affectation, pedantry and despotism of the age of the\nBourbons. His ideal of man was the unconventional, unconstrained,\nsolitary, but harmless and easy-going savage. Hobbes was the growth of\na sterner and more serious age. The only reality to him in heaven and\non earth was force: his one idea in philosophy was coercion. Human\nnature to him was an embodiment of brute violence ever in need of\nviolent restraint. Rousseau, an optimist, saw nothing but good in\nman's original nature: to the pessimist mind of Hobbes all was evil\nthere. Neither of them saw any natural adaptation to social life in\nthe human constitution. To live in society was, in both their views,\nan artificial arrangement, an arbitrary convention. But Hobbes found\nin the intolerable evils of a state of nature an excellent reason why\nmen should quit it for the unnatural condition of citizens. Rousseau\nfound no reason except, as he says, _quelque funeste hasard_. The\nproblem for Hobbes stood thus: how men, entering society, might be\n\"cribbed, cabined, and confined\" to the utmost in order to keep down\ntheir native badness. Rousseau's concern was, how one might so become\na citizen as yet to retain to the full the delightful liberty of a\ntropical savage. Hobbes's solution is the _Leviathan_, Rousseau's the\n_Social Contract_. The prize, we think, rests with the Englishman: but\nthe reader shall judge.\n\n5. And first of the Social Contract. Rousseau proposes \"to find a form\nof association which shall defend and protect with all the strength of\nthe community the person and the goods of each associate, and whereby\neach one, uniting himself to all, may nevertheless obey none but\nhimself and remain as free as before.\" (_Contrat Social_, i. 6.) This\nproposal is hopeless, it is a contradiction in terms. No man can\ncontract and remain as free as before, but he binds himself either\nunder a _wider_ obligation to do or abstain, where he was not bound\nbefore, or under a _stronger_ obligation where he was bound already.\nNevertheless Rousseau finds a means of accomplishing the impossible\nand the self-contradictory. \"Each of us puts into a common stock his\nperson and all his power under the supreme direction of the general\nwill; and we receive in our turn the offering of the rest, each member\nas an inseparable part of the whole. Instantly, instead of the private\nperson of each contracting party, this act of association produces a\nmoral and collective body, composed of as many members as the assembly\nhas voices, which body receives by this same act its unity, its common\nEgo, its life and its will.\" (_ib_.) This awful signing away of all\nyour rights, so that your very personality is merged in that of the\ncommunity--a self-renunciation going far beyond that of profession in\nany religious order--ought certainly, as Rousseau says, to be \"the\nmost voluntary act in the world;\" and he adds the characteristic\nreason: \"every man being born free and master of himself, none can,\nunder any pretence whatsoever, subject him without his own consent.\"\n(_Contrat Social_, iv. 2.) Then you ask: When have I made this large\ncontract by the most voluntary act in the world? Rousseau replies:\n\"When the State is instituted, consent is in residing.\" (_ib_.) But,\nyou reply, my residence is anything but the most voluntary act in the\nworld: it would be awkward for me to emigrate; and if I did emigrate,\nit would only be to some other State: I cannot possibly camp out and\nbe independent in the woods, nor appease my hunger under an oak. To\nthis plea Rousseau quite gives in, remarking that \"family, goods, the\nwant of an asylum, necessity, violence, may keep an inhabitant in the\ncountry in spite of himself; and in that case his mere sojourn no\nlonger supposes his consent to the contract.\" (_ib_.) Then none of us\nhave made the contract, for we have never had the option of living\nanywhere except in some State.\n\n6. Hobbes, after laying down the necessity of men combining for\nprotection against mutual injustice, observes that a mere promise or\nagreement not to injure any one will not suffice: \"for the agreement\nof men is by covenant only, which is artificial; and therefore no\nwonder if there be something else required besides covenant to make\ntheir agreement constant and lasting, which is a common power to keep\nthem in awe and to direct their actions to the common benefit.\" He\ncontinues: \"The only way to erect such a common power ... is to confer\nall their power and strength upon one man or upon one assembly of men,\nthat may reduce all their wills by plurality of voices unto one will:\nwhich is as much as to say, to appoint one man or assembly of men to\nbear their person; and every one to own, and to acknowledge himself to\nbe the author of, whatsoever he that so beareth their person shall act\nor cause to be acted in those things which concern the common peace\nand safety; and therein to submit their wills every one to his will,\nand their judgments to his judgment. This is more than consent or\nconcord,--it is a real unity of them all in one and the same person,\nmade by covenant of every man with every man, in such manner as if\nevery man should say to every man: I authorise, and give up my right\nof governing myself to this man or to this assembly of men, on this\ncondition, that thou give up thy right to him, and authorise all his\nactions in like manner. This done, the multitude so united in one\nperson is called a _commonwealth_, in Latin _civitas_. This is the\ngeneration of that great Leviathan, or rather, to speak more\nreverently, of that mortal god, to whom we owe under the immortal God\nour peace and defence.\" (_Leviathan_, c. xvii.) This idea of all the\nrights and personalities of the individuals who contract to live\nsocially being fused and welded together into the one resultant\npersonality and power of the State, has evidently been borrowed by\nRousseau from Hobbes. We shall deal with the idea presently. Meanwhile\nseveral points claim our notice.\n\n7. The hideous piece of cynicism whereby Rousseau (_Contrat Social_,\niv. 2), after promising you that, if you join his commonwealth, you\nshall obey none but yourself, then goes on to tell you that you obey\nyourself in obeying the will of the majority, even when it puts you in\nirons or leads you to death--because as a citizen you have once for\nall renounced your own will, and can only wish what the majority\nwishes,--has its root in the position of Hobbes, that \"every subject\nis author of every act the sovereign doth.\" (_Leviathan_, c. xxi.)\n\n8. A real and important difference between the _Leviathan_ and the\n_Social Contract_, is that Hobbes (c. xix.) allows various\ndistributions of sovereign power, but prefers monarchy: Rousseau (l.\nii., c. i.) will have it that sovereignty is vested inalienably in the\npeople: of which doctrine more to follow.\n\n9. _Men are by nature equal_, say Rousseau and Hobbes and many more\nrespectable authors. Yes, in their specific nature, that is, they are\nall equally men. Similarly you have it that all triangles are equal,\nif that is a proposition of any value. But men as individuals are not\nall equal. One is stronger in body, another more able in mind: one\npredisposed to virtue, another to vice: one born in affluence and\nhonour, another in squalor. Not men in the abstract, but living men,\nstart at different points of vantage, and the distance between them\nwidens as they run the race of life. We may lay it down as an axiom,\nin diametric opposition to Rousseau, that inequalities are natural,\nequalities artificial.\n\n10. _Man is born free_: so opens the first chapter of the _Contrat\nSocial_. If free of all duties, then void of all rights (c. v., s. i.,\nnn. 5, 7, pp. 246, 247): let him then be promptly knocked on the head\nas a sacrifice to Malthas; and with the misformed children born in\nPlato's _Republic_, \"they will bury him in a secret and unseen spot,\nas is befitting.\"\n\n11. Hobbes and Rousseau go upon this maxim, which has overrun the\nmodern world, that no man can be bound to obedience to another without\nhis own consent. The maxim would be an excellent one, were men framed\nlike the categories of Aristotle--substance, quantity, quality,\nrelation, and the rest--each peering out of his own pigeon-hole, an\nindependent, self-sufficient entity. But men are dependent, naturally\ndependent whether they will or no, every human being on certain\ndefinite others,--the child on the parent, the citizen on the State\nwhose protection he enjoys, and all alike on God. These natural\ndependences carry with them natural uncovenanted obediences,--to\nparents, filial duty--to country, loyalty--to God, piety: all which\nare embraced in the Latin term _pietas_. (See St. Thomas, 2a 2\u00e6, q.\n101, art. 1, in corp.) The fatal maxim before us is the annihilation\nof _pietas_. In lieu of loyal submission we get a contract, a\ntransaction of reasoned commercial selfishness between equal and\nequal. This perverse substitution has called forth Leo XIII.'s remark\non the men of our time, \"Nothing comes so amiss to them as subjection\nand obedience,\" _Nihil tam moleste ferunt quam subesse et parere_.\n(Encyclical on Christian Marriage.)\n\n12. The common extravagance of the _Leviathan_ and the _Social\nContract_ is the suppression of the individual, with his rights and\nhis very personality, which is all blended in the State. (See\nRousseau's words above quoted, n. 5, and those of Hobbes, n. 6.) The\nreservations in favour of the individual made by Hobbes, _Leviathan_,\nc. xxi., and by Rousseau, _Contrat Social_, l. ii., c. iv., are either\ntrifles or self-contradictions. But it is not in man's power by any\ncontract thus to change his nature, so as to become from autocentric\nheterocentric (c. ii., s. i., n. 2, p. 203; c. v., s. i., n. 1, p.\n244), from a person a thing, from a man a chattel, void of rights and\nconsequently of duties, and bound to serve this Collective Monster,\nthis Aggregated Idol, with the absolute devotedness that is due to God\nalone. The worship of the new Moloch goes well with the dark\nmisanthropism of Hobbes: but in Rousseau, the believer in the perfect\ngoodness of unrestrained humanity, it is about the most glaring of his\nmany inconsistencies. It is of course eagerly taken up by the\nSocialists, as carrying all their conclusions. It is the political\naspect of Socialism.\n\n_Reading_.--Burke, _Warren Hastings_, Fourth Day, the passage\nbeginning, \"He have arbitrary power!\"\n\n\nSECTION II.--_Of the theory that Civil Power is an aggregate formed by\nsubscription of the powers of individuals_.\n\n\n1. The Greeks had a name [Greek: eranos], which meant a feast where\nthe viands were supplied by each guest contributing in kind. If, in a\nparty of four, one man brought a ham, another a rabbit, a third a dish\nof truffles, and a fourth a salmon, no one would expect that, when the\ncover was raised, there should appear a pigeon-pie. That would not be\nin the nature of an [Greek: eranos]. Now not only Hobbes and Rousseau,\nbut Locke and a great multitude of modern Englishmen with him, hold\nthat the power of the State is an aggregate, the algebraic sum of the\npowers whereof the component members would have stood possessed, had\nthey lived in what is called, by a misleading phrase, \"the state of\nnature,\" that is, the condition of men not subject to civil authority.\nThese powers,--either, as Hobbes and Rousseau virtually say, _all_ of\nthem, or, as Locke and the common opinion has it, only _some_ of them,\n--men are supposed to resign as they enter into the State. If\ntherefore there appears in the City, Nation, State, or Commonwealth, a\ncertain new and peculiar power, which belongs to no individual in the\n\"state of nature,\" or, as I prefer to call it, the _extra-civil\nstate_, then what we may designate as the Aggregation Theory breaks\ndown, and another origin must be sought of civil principality. But\nthere is such a power in the State, new and peculiar, and not found in\nany of the component individuals: it is the power and authority to\npunish on civil grounds. It is the right of the rods and axes, that\nwere borne before the Roman magistrate. It is, in its most crucial\nform, the right to punish with death.\n\n2. We are not here concerned with proving the existence of this right.\nIt is generally admitted: we assume it accordingly, and shall prove it\nlater on. Nor are we concerned with _domestic punishment_, inflicted\nby the head of a family within his own household, for the good of that\nhousehold, stopping short of any _irreparable harm_ to the sufferer.\n(St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 65, art. 2, ad. 2.) Leaving this aside, we say,\nand have proved already, that one private individual has no right to\npunish another, neither _medicinally_ for the amendment of the\ndelinquent, nor by way of _deterrent_ for the good of the community,\nnor in the way of _retribution_ for his own satisfaction. He has the\nright of self-defence, but not of punishment: the two things are quite\ndifferent. He may also exact restitution, where restitution is due:\nbut that again is not punishing. If he is in the extra-civil state, he\nmay use force, where prudence allows it, to recover what he has lost.\nThis _right of private war_ really is surrendered by the individual,\nwhen the State is established: but war and punishment are two totally\ndifferent ideas. Subjects are punished: war is levied on independent\npowers. (_Ethics_, c. ix., s. iii., nn. 4-6, pp. 171-174; _Natural\nLaw_, c. ii., s. ii., n. 6, p. 212.)\n\n3. Opposite is the opinion of Locke, who writes:\n\n\"The execution of the law of nature is in that state [of nature] put\ninto every man's hands, whereby every one has a right to punish the\ntransgressors of that law to such a degree as may hinder its\nviolation: for the law of nature would, as all other laws that concern\nmen in this world, be in vain, if there were nobody that in the state\nof nature had a power to execute that law.\" We observe that the\npunishment of offenders against the law of nature, as such, belongs to\nthe Legislator, who is God alone. Certainly it is well, nay necessary,\nthat there should be human law to bear out the law of nature: but\nhuman law is the creation of human society in its perfection, which is\nthe State. Man is punished by man for breaking the laws of man,\nnot--except remotely--for breaking the laws of God. Nor would it be\nany inconvenience, if the law of nature were in vain in a state\nwherein nature never intended men to live, wherein no multitude of men\never for any notable time have lived, a state which is neither actual\nfact nor ideal perfection, but a mere property of the philosophic\nstage, a broken article, an outworn speculation. Such is \"the state of\nnature,\" as identified with the extra-civil state by Hobbes, Locke,\nand Rousseau.\n\n\nSECTION III.--_Of the true state of Nature, which is the state of\ncivil society; and consequently of the Divine origin of Power_.\n\n\n1. The State is deemed by Aristotle (_Politics_, III., ix., 14): \"the\nunion of septs and villages in a complete and self-sufficient life.\"\nThe first and most elementary community is the _family_, [Greek:\noikia]. A knot of families associating together, claiming\nblood-relationship and descent, real or fictitious, from a common\nancestor, whose name they bear, constitute a [Greek: genos], called in\nIreland a _sept_, in Scotland a _clan_, nameless in England. When the\nsept come to cluster their habitations, or encampments, in one or more\nspots, and to admit strangers in blood to dwell among them, these\nhamlets, or camps, gradually reach the magnitude of a _village_. When\na number of these _villages_, belonging to different _septs_, come to\nbe contiguous to one another, this mere juxtaposition does not make of\nthem a State. Nor does interchange of commodities, nor intermarriage,\nnor an offensive and defensive alliance: these are the mutual\nrelations of a _confederacy_, [Greek: xymmaxia], but all these and\nmore are needed for a State, [Greek: polis]. To be a State, it is\nrequisite that these septs and villages should agree to regulate the\nconduct of their individual members by a _common standard of social\nvirtue_, sufficient for their well-being as one community. This common\nstandard is fixed by common consent, or by the decision of some power\ncompetent to act for all and to punish delinquents. The name of this\ncommon standard is _law_. (_Ethics_, c. vii., n. 1, p. 126.) The\ncommunity thus formed leads a life _complete and self-sufficient_, not\nbeing a member of another, but a body by itself,--not part of any\nulterior community, but complete in the fulness of social good and\nsocial authority.\n\n2. Among the ancient Greeks and Italians, and to some extent also in\nmedi\u00e6val Italy and Germany, the city or municipality, with the small\ncountry district attached, was the State. With us the nation is the\nState; and accordingly we say _my country_ where the Greek said _my\ncity_. Bearing this difference in mind, as also the fact that the\n_sept_ is not known amongst us except to antiquarians, and likewise\nthat the _village_ with us coincides with the _parish_, and that there\nare town as well as country parishes,--upon these modern data we may\namend Aristotle's definition thus: _The State is the union of parishes\nand municipalities in a perfect and self-sufficient community_.\n\n3. The City State is well illustrated in the following narrative of\nThucydides (ii., 15):\n\n\"In the time of Cecrops and the early kings as far as Theseus, Attica\nwas always divided among several independent cities, with their own\ntown-halls and magistrates; and when there was no alarm of an enemy,\nthe inhabitants did not resort for common deliberation to the King,\nbut severally managed their own affairs and took their own counsel,\nand some of them even went to war. But when Theseus came to the\nthrone, he abolished the council-chambers and magistracies of the\nother cities, and centralised all the people in what is now the city\n[of Athens], where he appointed their one council-chamber and\ntown-hall; and while they continued to occupy their own properties as\nbefore, he forced them to recognise this as their one city and State.\"\nAttica before Theseus was a _confederacy_, [Greek: xymmaxia], not a\nState, [Greek: polis].\n\n4. A _citizen_ is defined: \"one who has access to a share in\ndeliberative and judicial functions.\" (Ar., _Pol_. III., i., 12.) It\nis not necessary that he actually should share these functions, but\nthe way to them should lie open to him: he should be a person\nqualified to share in them. There are various degrees of citizenship.\nUnder a parliamentary government, we distinguish the member of\nparliament, the elector, and him who will be an elector as soon as he\ngets a house of his own; and again, the judge, and him who is liable\nto serve on juries. In an absolute monarchy there are no _citizens_,\nonly _subjects_.\n\n5. \"The distribution of power in the State, and especially of the\nsovereign power, is called the _polity_\" ([Greek: politeia], Ar.,\n_Pol_., III., vi., 1),--a word immortalised by the judicious Hooker,\nand happily recovered recently to the English language. The _polity_\nthen is the distribution of the sovereignty. The person, singular or\ncollective, in whose hands the full sovereignty rests, is called the\n_ruler_. Be it observed that what we call _the ruler_ is never one\nman, except in absolute monarchy. By the theory of the British\nConstitution, the _ruler_ is King, Lords, and Commons, together.\n\n6. _Nature requires that men generally live in society, domestic and\ncivil, so that the individual be of the family, and families form\nassociations, which again conspire to form one perfect community,\nwhich is the State_. The requirement of nature may be gathered from\nthe universal practice of mankind. \"If it (the word _savage_) means\npeople without a settled form of government, without laws and without\na religion, then, go where you like, you will not find such a race.\"\n(Max M\u00fcller, in _Nineteenth Century_, Jan. 1885, p. 114.) The same may\nbe gathered from a consideration of what the State is, and of the ends\nwhich it serves. The State, as we have seen (n. 2), is a union of\nsepts and villages, or of parishes and municipalities. The individual\nis born and nurtured in the family, and ordinarily becomes in time the\nparent of a new family. Families must combine to form septs by blood,\nor villages (or parishes) by locality. Municipalities we may leave\naside, for a municipality is a potential State. But we must consider\nthe sept, village, or parish, which is the community intermediate\nbetween family and State. Among the cogent reasons which require\nfamilies to enter into this association, we may mention friendship,\nintermarriage, the interchange of services and commodities, the\ncultivation of the arts, the preservation of traditions and\ninventions.\n\n7. But it is further necessary that these septs, villages, or\nparishes, should band together and combine to form a higher community,\nself-sufficient and perfect,--for the determining of rights which\nNatural Law leaves undetermined,--for the punishing of disturbers of\nthe peace, if need be, even with death,--for defence against a common\nenemy,--for a union of counsels and resources to the execution of\nmagnificent works. This self-sufficient and perfect community, which\nis not part of any higher community, is the State.\n\n8. We may observe that the whole reason for the being of the State is\nnot mutual need, nor the repression of violence. Main reasons these\nare, no doubt, but not the whole main reason. Even if men had no need\nof one another for the supply of their animal wants, they would still\ndesire to converse for the satisfaction of their intellectual\ncuriosity and their social affections. And even if we had all remained\nas void of guile, and as full of light and love, as our first parents\nwere at their creation, we should still have needed the erection of\nStates. In a State there are not only criminal but civil courts, where\nit is not wicked men alone who come to be litigants. From sundry\npassages of Scripture it would appear that even angels may disagree as\nto what is best and proper: angelic men certainly may and do. It is a\nmistake to look upon civil government, with its apparatus of laws and\njudgments, simply as a necessary evil, and remedy of the perverseness\nof mankind. On the contrary, were all men virtuous, States would still\nbe formed, towering in magnificence above the States known to history,\nas the cedars of Lebanon above the scanty growths of a fell-side in\nour north country.\n\n9. _There can be no State without a power to guide and govern it_. It\nhas indeed become the fashion to repeat, as the latest discovery in\npolitics, that what a State needs is not government but\nadministration. This saying comes of a theory, to be examined\npresently, that sovereign power abides permanently with the people at\nlarge, and that the sole function of princes, cabinets, and\nparliaments, is to provide means of giving effect to the popular will.\nThis however is not quite a repudiation of government, but a peculiar\nview as to the seat and centre of government. Those who hold it,\nvigorously maintain the right of the Many to govern, control, and\ncommand the Few. The need of some governing authority in a State can\nbe denied by none but an Anarchist, a gentleman who lives two doors\nbeyond Rousseau on the side of unreason.\n\n10. _Every State is autonomous, self-governing, independent_. Either\nthe whole people taken collectively must rule the same whole taken\ndistributively, or a part must rule the rest. The ruler is either the\nwhole commonwealth, or more frequently a part of the commonwealth. An\nautocrat is part of the State which he governs. Sovereignty whole and\nentire is intrinsic to the State. A community that is to any extent\ngoverned from without, like British India or London, is not a State,\nbut part of a State, for it is not a _perfect community_.\n\n11. We have it therefore that _man is a social animal_. Naturally he\nis a member of a family. Nature requires that families should coalesce\ninto higher communities, which again naturally converge and culminate\nin the State. Nature further requires that in every State there should\nbe an authority to govern. But authority to govern and duty to obey\nare correlatives. Nature therefore requires submission to the\ngoverning authority in the State. In other words, Nature abhors\nanarchy as being the destruction of civil society, and as cutting the\nground from under the feet of civilised man. The genuine _state of\nnature_, that state and condition, which nature allows and approves as\nproper for the evolution of the human faculties, is the state of man\nin civil society. That is lost where there is no judge in the land.\n\n12. There are men full of a sentimental deference to authority and\nprofessions of obedience, who yet will not obey any of the authorities\nthat actually are over them. These are disobedient men. He is an\nanarchist in practice, who meditates treason and rebellion against the\n\"powers that be\" actually over him in the State wherein he lives. To\nobey no actual power is to obey no power, as to wear no actual clothes\nis to go naked. To keep up the comparison,--as a man may change his\nclothes upon occasion, and thus go through a brief interval of\nunclothedness without injury to health or violation of decency,\nnotwithstanding the requirement of nature to wear clothes: so it may\nbe or it may not be consonant with the exigency of our nature at times\nto subvert by insurrection the existing government in order to the\nsubstitution of a new authority; that does not concern us here. We are\nstating the general rule under ordinary circumstances. The submission\nto civil authority, which nature requires of us, must be paid in the\ncoin of obedience to the actual established \"powers that be.\"\n\n13. Any one who understands how morality comes from God (_Ethics_, c.\nvi., s. ii. nn. 6-9, 13, pp. 119-125), can have no difficulty in\nseeing how civil power is of God also. The one point covers the other.\nWe need no mention of God to show that disobedience, lying, and the\nseven deadly sins, are bad things for human nature, things to be\navoided even if they were not forbidden. All the things that God\nforbids are against the good of man. Their being evil is\ndistinguishable from their being prohibited, and antecedent to it. Now\nas drunkenness and unchastity are evil for man, so too is anarchy. The\none remedy for anarchy is civil government. Even if there were no God,\nit would be still imperatively necessary, as we have seen, for mankind\nto erect political institutions, and to abide by the laws and\nordinances of constitutional power. But there would be no _formal\nobligation_ of submission to these laws and ordinances; and resistance\nto this power would be no more than _philosophic sin_. (_Ethics_, c.\nvi., s. ii., n. 6, p. 119.) What makes anarchy truly sinful and wrong\nis the prohibition of it contained in the Eternal Law, that law\nwhereby God commands every creature, and particularly every man, to\nact in accordance with his own proper being and nature taken as a\nwhole, and to avoid what is repugnant to the same. (_Ethics_, c. vi.,\ns. ii., n. 9, p. 120.)\n\nTherefore, as man is naturally social, and anarchy is the dissolution\nof society, God forbids anarchy, and enjoins obedience to the civil\npower, under pain of sin and damnation. \"They that resist, purchase to\nthemselves damnation\" (Rom. xiii. 2): where the theological student,\nhaving the Greek text before him, will observe that the same phrase is\nused as in 1 Cor. xi. 29 of the unworthy communicant, as though it\nwere the like sin to rend our Lord's mystical Body by civil discord as\nto profane His natural Body by sacrilege. But to enjoin obedience and\nto bestow authority are the obverse and reverse of one and the same\nact. God therefore gives the civil ruler power and authority to\ncommand. This is the meaning of St. Paul's teaching that there is no\npower but from God, and that the powers that be are ordained of God.\n(Rom. xiii. 1.)\n\n14. The argument is summed up in these seven consequent propositions:\n\n(a) Civil society is necessary to human nature.\n(b) Civil power is necessary to civil society.\n(c) Civil power is naught without civil obedience.\n(d) Civil obedience is necessary to human nature.\n(e) God commands whatever is necessary to human nature.\n(f) God commands obedience to the civil power.\n(g) God commissions the civil power to rule.\n\n15. If any one asks how the State and the civil power is of God any\notherwise than the railway company with its power, or even the fever\nwith its virulence, a moment's reflection will reveal the answer in\nthe facts, that railway communication, however convenient, is not an\nessential feature of human life, as the State is: while diseases are\nnot requirements in order to good, but incidental defects and evils of\nnature, permitted by God. Why God leaves man to cope with such evils,\nis not the question here.\n\n_Readings_.--Ar., _Pol_., I., ii.; III., i.; III., ix.: nn. 5-15.\n\n\nSECTION IV.--_Of the Variety of Polities_.\n\n\n1. _One polity alone is against the natural law; that is every polity\nwhich proves itself unworkable and inefficient: for the rest, various\nStates exhibit various polities workable and lawful, partly from the\ncircumstances, partly from the choice, of the citizens: but the sum\ntotal of civil power is a constant quantity, the same for all States_.\nWe proceed to establish the clauses of this statement in succession.\n\n2. If a watch be necessary to a railway guard, and he is bound to have\none accordingly, it is also necessary, and he is bound to procure it,\nthat the watch shall go and keep time. A watch that will not keep time\nis an unlawful article for him to depend upon, being tantamount to no\nwatch, whereas he is bound to have a watch. Otherwise, be his watch\nlarge or small, gold, silver, or pinchbeck, all this is indifferent,\nso long as it be a reliable timekeeper. In like manner, we must have a\nState, we must have a government, and we must have a government that\ncan govern. Monarchy, aristocracy, parliaments, wide or narrow\nfranchise, centralisation, decentralisation, any one of these and\ncountless other forms--apart from the means whereby it is set up--is a\nlawful government, where it is a workable one; unlawful, and forbidden\nby God and nature, where it cannot work. A form of government that\nfrom its own intrinsic defects could nowhere work, would be everywhere\nand always unlawful.\n\n3. You cannot argue from the accomplished fact the lawfulness of the\nmeans whereby it was accomplished. Nor do we say that every form of\ngovernment, which succeeds in governing, was originally set up in\njustice; nor again that the success of its rule is necessarily due to\nthe use of just means. The Committee of Public Safety in Paris in 1794\ndid manage to govern, but it was erected in blood, and it governed by\nan unscrupulous disregard of everybody's rights. All that we say is,\nthat no distribution of civil power as a distribution, or no polity as\na polity (s. iii., n. 5, p. 312), is unlawful, if by it the government\ncan be carried on. And the reason is plain. For all that nature\nrequires is that there should be an efficient civil authority, not\nthat this man should have it, or that one man or other should have it\nall, or that a certain class in council assembled should engross it,\nor that all the inhabitants of the country should participate in it.\nAny one of these arrangements that will work, satisfies the exigency\nof nature for civil rule, and is therefore in itself a lawful polity.\n\n4. Working, and therefore, as explained, lawful polities are as\nmultitudinous as the species of animals. Besides those that actually\nare, there is a variety without end, as of animals, so of polities,\nthat might be and are not. We can classify only the main types. We\nground our classification upon Ar., _Pol._, III., vii., modernising it\nso as to take in forms of representative government, whereof Aristotle\nhad no conception.\n\n(1) _Monarchy_, or the rule of the Single Person, in whose hands the\nwhole power of the State is concentrated, e.g., Constantine the Great.\n\n(2) _Aristocracy_, or the rule of the Few, which will be either\n_direct_ or _representative_, according as either they themselves by\ntheir own votes at first hand, or representatives whom they elect,\nmake the laws.\n\n(3) _Democracy_, or the rule of the Many, that is, of the whole\ncommunity. Democracy, again, is either _direct_ (commonly called\n_pure_) or _representative_. The most famous approach in history to\npure democracy is the government of Athens, B.C. 438-338.\n\n(4) _Limited Monarchy_.\n\n(a) _Monarchy with Aristocracy_, the government of England from 1688\nto 1830.\n\n(b) _Monarchy with Democracy_.\n\n5. All civil government is for the governed, that is, for the\ncommunity at large. The perversion of a polity is the losing sight of\nthis principle, and the conducting of the polity in the interest of\nthe governing body alone. By such perversion monarchy passes into\n_tyranny_, aristocracy into _oligarchy_, and democracy into\n_ochlocracy_ or _mob-rule_. It might appear strange that, where the\npower rests with the whole people collectively, government should ever\nbe carried on otherwise than in the interest of the entire community,\ndid we not remember that the majority, with whom the power rests in a\ndemocracy, may employ it to trample on and crush the minority. Thus\nthe Many may worry and harass the Few, the mean and poor the wealthy\nand noble: though commonly perhaps the worrying has been the other way\nabout. Anyhow it is important to observe that there is no polity which\nof itself, and apart from the spirit in which it is worked, is an\nadequate safeguard and rock of defence against oppression.\n\n6. The wide range of polities that history presents is not drawn out\nby the caprice of nations. The very fact of a certain nation choosing\na certain polity, where they are free to choose, is an indication of\nthe bent of the national character, and character is not a caprice. No\nNorth American population are ever likely to elect an absolute monarch\nto govern them. That polity which thrives on the shores of the\nCaspian, can strike no root on the banks of the Potomac. The choice of\na polity is limited by the character of the electors and by the\ncircumstances in which the election is made. Not every generation in a\nnation is free to choose its polity: but the choice and institution of\nthe fathers binds the children. Up to a certain point ancestral\nsettlements must be respected, or instability ensues, and anarchy is\nnot far off. Thus the spirit of freedom should always act as Burke\nsays, \"as if in the presence of canonized forefathers.\"\n\n7. The smallest State in the world is the little republic of Andorra\nin the Pyrenees. Though it be a paradox to say it, there is as much\npolitical power in Andorra as in Russia,--one and the same measure of\nit in every State. In every State there is power for civil good to the\nfull height of the emergencies that may arise. The same emergencies\nmay arise everywhere, and everywhere there is full power to see that\nthe commonwealth take no harm by them. What a great empire can do for\nthis purpose, _e.g_., proclaim martial law, search houses, lay an\nembargo on the means of transport, impress soldiers, the same can the\ntiniest commonwealth do in the like need. And the ordinary functions\nof government are the same in both.\n\n8. This seems at variance with the theory of some constitutions,\naccording to which there are certain so-called _fundamental laws_,\nwhich the legislature cannot call in question, nor deal with in any\nway, but must take them in all its deliberations for positions\nestablished and uncontrovertible. The British Constitution recognizes\nno fundamental laws. There is no reform that may not legally be\nbroached in Parliament and enacted there. Parliament is said to be\n\"omnipotent,\" \"able to do everything, except to make a man a woman.\"\nBut in many legislatures it is not so. At Athens of old there were\ncertain measures which no one could introduce for discussion in the\nSovereign Assembly without rendering himself liable to a prosecution\n[Greek: graphae paranomon]. And there have been many monarchs termed\nabsolute, who yet were bound by their coronation-oath, or by some\nother agreement with their people, to preserve inviolate certain\ninstitutions and to maintain certain laws. It may be contended that\nsuch a government as we have in England, which is theoretically\ncompetent to pass any law within the limits of the natural law, has a\ngreater range of power than a government whose operation is limited by\na barrier of fundamental positive law. But this contention vanishes\nwhen we observe that there must remain in the State, which has\nfundamental laws, a power somewhere to reverse them. They can be\nreversed at least by the consent of the whole people. Thus at Athens\nthe [Greek: graphae paranomon] could be suspended by a vote of the\nAssembly. A people can release their monarch from his coronation-oath\nin such portions of it as are not binding absolutely by divine law.\nWhere _fundamental law_ obtains, a portion of the civil power becomes\n_latent_, and only a diminished remainder is left _free_ in the hands\nof the person or persons who are there said to rule. Such person or\npersons are not the _adequate ruler_ of the State, as they have not\nthe full power, but the people, with whom rests the latent authority\nto cancel certain laws, are to that extent partakers in the\nsovereignty. Where there is agreement of the whole people, great and\nsmall, no part of the power remains _latent_, but all is set _free_.\nWith us, it may be observed, the omnipotence of parliament has become\na mere lawyer's theory. On every great issue, other than that on which\nthe sitting parliament has been elected, it is the practice of\nministers to \"go to the country\" by a new General Election. Thus only\na certain measure of available authority is _free_ at the disposal of\nparliament: the rest remaining _latent_ in the general body of the\nelectorate. Such is our constitution in practice.\n\n9. If in any State the whole power were _free_ in the hands of one\nman, there we might look to see made good the _dictum_ of the\njudicious Hooker (_Ecclesiastical Polity_, bk. i., s. x., n. 5): \"To\nlive by one man's will became the cause of all men's misery.\" In a\nmonarchy untrammelled by senate or popular assembly, it were well that\nsome of the sovereign power should remain _latent_, and that His\nMajesty should rule in accordance with certain laws, not within his\nroyal pleasure to revoke.\n\n10. The State and the power of the State, apart from the polity, is of\nGod. (s. iii., n. 14, p. 318.) The State under this or that polity and\nthis or that ruler, is also of God. But, apart from the polity, the\nState is of God _antecedently_ to any determination of any human will:\nbecause, willy nilly, man must live in civil society and God commands\nhim so to do. But the State under _this_ polity and _this_ ruler is of\nGod _consequently_ to some determination of human volition. In this\nconsequent sense we write _Victoria Dei gratia_.\n\n11. There is little use in the enquiry, Which is the best polity?\nThere is no polity which excels all other polities as man does the\nrest of animals. We judge of polities as of the various types of\nlocomotives, according to the nature of the country where they are to\nrun. Aristotle tells us that if we meet with a Pericles, we shall do\nbest to make him our king, and hand over all our affairs to him. (Ar.,\n_Pol_., III., xiii., 25: cf. Thucydides, ii., 65.) Otherwise, \"for\nmost cities and for most men, apart from exceptional circumstances, or\na condition of ideal perfection, but having regard to what is\nordinarily possible,\" he recommends a moderate republic under\nmiddle-class rule. (Ar., _Pol_., VI., xi., Ed. Congreve.) This he\ncalls _par excellence_ \"a polity,\" [Greek: politeia]. _Democracy_,\n[Greek: deimokratia] with Aristotle, always means that perversion of\ndemocracy, which we call _mob-rule_. (Ar., _Pol._, III., vii., nn. 3,\n5.)\n\n12. In the English monarchy the whole majesty of the State shines\nforth in the Single Person who wears the Crown. The Crown is the\ncentre of loyalty and gives dignity to the government. The Crown is\nabove all parties in the State, knows their secrets, their purposes\nwhen in office as well as their acts, and is able to mediate, when\nparty feeling threatens to bring government to a standstill. The\nBritish Crown has more weight of influence than of prerogative.\n[Footnote 21]\n\n[Footnote 21: Written in the month and year of jubilee, June, 1887.]\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 105, art. 1, in corp., ad 2, 5; Ar.,\n_Pol_., III., xv.; _ib_., III., xvi., nn. 5-8; _ib_., VIII. (al. V.),\nxi. nn. 1-3.\n\n\nSECTION V.--_Of the Divine Right of Kings and the Inalienable\nSovereignty of the People._\n\n\n1. \"Those old fanatics of arbitrary power dogmatized as if hereditary\nmonarchy were the only lawful government in the world, just as our new\nfanatics of popular arbitrary power maintain that a popular election\nis the only lawful source of authority.\" (Burke, _Reflections on\nFrench Revolution_.)\n\nWe here stand between two idols of the tribe of politicians. We may\ncall them Gog and Magog: Gog, the divine right of kings; Magog, the\ninalienable sovereignty of the people.\n\n2. The position known in history as \"the divine right of kings\" may be\nbest described as a _political popedom_. It is the belief of Catholics\nthat our Divine Redeemer, instituting His Church by His own personal\nact as a perfect society and spiritual commonwealth, instituted in\nlike manner the polity under which He willed it to be governed,\nnamely, the Papal monarchy, begun in St. Peter and carried to\ncompletion according to our Lord's design under the line of Popes,\nPeter's successors. The monarchy thus established is essential to the\nCatholic Church. We speak not here of the temporal power which the\nPope once enjoyed in the Roman States, but of his spiritual\nsovereignty over all Christendom. The Pope cannot validly resign and\nput out of his own and his successors' hands, nor can the Cardinals\ntake away from him, nor the Episcopate, one jot or tittle of this\nspiritual prerogative. He cannot, for instance, condition his\ninfallibility on the consent of a General Council, or surrender the\ncanonization of saints to the votes of the faithful at large. Such are\nthe inalienable, Christ-given prerogatives of the Papacy. Henry VIII.\nfeloniously set himself up for Pope within the realm of England.\nBlending together temporal and spiritual jurisdiction, he made out his\nrights and prerogatives as a monarch, even in the civil order, to be\ninalienable as in the spiritual. Spiritual and civil attributes\ntogether formed a jewelled circlet, one and indivisible, immoveably\nfixed on the brow of the King's Most Sacred Majesty. Grown and swollen\nby their union with the spirituality, the civil attributes of the\nCrown were exaggerated to the utmost, and likewise declared\ninalienable. They were exaggerated till they came to embrace all the\npowers of government. The privileges of Parliament, and the\nlimitations to the royal authority, set forth in the Petition of Right\nin 1628, were regarded as mere concessions tenable at the King's\npleasure: from which point of view we understand the readiness of so\nconscientious a monarch as Charles I. to act against such privileges\nafter he had allowed them. But to vest all the powers of government\ninalienably in the King, so that whoever else may seem to partake in\nthem, shall partake only by royal sufferance, is tantamount to\ndeclaring monarchy the sole valid and lawful polity. This declaration\nthe ministers, lay and clerical, of our Charleses and Jameses do not\nseem to have made in express terms. It is, however, contained by\nimplication in their celebrated phrase of \"the inalienable\nprerogatives of the Crown,\" as interpreted by the stretches of\nprerogative which they advised. They virtually asserted of one\nparticular polity, or distribution of civil power (c. viii., s. iii.,\nn. 5, p. 312), that which is true only of civil power taken nakedly,\napart from the mode of its distribution--they said of _monarchy_ what\nis true of _government_--that the sum of its power is a constant\nquantity (c. viii., s. iv., n. 7, p. 322), and that it is of God\n_antecedently_ to and irrespectively of any determination of popular\nwill. (c. viii., s. iv., n. 10, p. 325.)\n\n3. Such a position is easily refuted, _negatively_, by its being\nwholly unproven, unless the English Reformation, and the servile\nspirit in Church and State that promoted and was promoted by the\nReformation, can pass for a proof; and again the position is\n_positively_ refuted, when we come to consider how all that nature\nrequires and God commands, is government under some polity, not\ngovernment everywhere under monarchy; there being many workable\npolities besides monarchy. (s. iv., nn. 1-4, p. 319.)\n\n4. The same argument that demolishes Gog, also overturns Magog. The\ntwo idols, opposed to one another, stand upon the same pedestal, the\nidentification of government in general with one particular polity, as\nthough _a_ polity were _the_ polity. The great assertor and worshipper\nof the inalienable sovereignty of the people is Jean Jacques Rousseau.\nHe starts from postulates which we have already rejected--that all men\nare equal (c. viii., s. i., n. 9, p. 305)--that man is born free\n(_ib._, n. 10)--that none can be bound to obey another without his own\nconsent (_ib._, n. 11)--that civil society is formed by an arbitrary\nconvention (_ib._, n. 4)--which convention is the Social Contract.\n(_ib._, n. 5.) From these unreasonable postulates Rousseau draws the\nconclusion, logically enough, that the sovereign will in every State\nis the will of the majority of the citizens: but the will of the\nmajority, he goes on, cannot be alienated from the majority: therefore\nneither can the sovereignty be alienated, but must abide permanently\nwith the people ruling by a majority of votes. The argumentation is\nexcellent, but the premisses are all false. The conclusion is vastly\npopular, few minds considering from what premisses it is drawn.\n\n5. If sovereignty rests inalienably with the people, the one valid\npolity is pure democracy. This proposition, however, Rousseau was not\nforward to formulate. The Stuarts had shrunk from formulating a\nsimilar proposition about monarchy, though they virtually held and\nacted upon it. They were willing enough to allow of a parliament,\nwhose privileges and functions should be at His Majesty's gracious\npleasure. Thus Rousseau will allow you to have your senate, king,\nemperor, if you will: only remember that he is _the prince_, not _the\nsovereign_. (_Contrat Social_, l. iii., c. i.) The people collectively\nare the sovereign, always sovereign. The _prince_, that is, he or they\nto whom the administration is entrusted--since all the citizens cannot\nadminister jointly--is the mere official and bailiff of the Sovereign\nPeople, bound to carry out their mandate in all things, and removable\nat their pleasure. The people must meet periodically, not at the\ndiscretion of the prince. \"These meetings must open with two\nquestions, never to be omitted, and to be voted on separately. The\nfirst is: Whether it pleases the Sovereign (People) to continue the\npresent form of government. The second is: Whether it pleases the\nPeople to leave the administration to the persons at present actually\ncharged with it.\" (_Contrat Social_, ,l. iv., c. xviii.)\n\n6. The claim of a pure democracy like this to supersede all other\npolities cannot be established by abstract arguments. That we have\nseen in examining the Social Contract. The alternative way of\nestablishing such an exclusive claim would be to prove that the\npractical efficiency of pure democracy immeasurably transcends the\nefficiency of every other possible polity. There is indeed yet a third\nmode of proof resorted to. It is said that pure democracy everywhere\nis coming and must come; and that what is thus on the line of human\nprogress must be right and best for the time that it obtains. A grand\ninvention this of Positivist genius, the theory, that whatever is is\nright; and the practice, always to swim with the stream! But supposing\nthat pure democracy is coming, how long is it likely to last? The\nanswer may be gathered from a review of the working difficulties of\nsuch a polity.\n\n7. It is made only for a small State. Railway and telegraph have\nindeed diminished the difficulty; and have removed the need of all the\nvoters meeting in one place, as was done at Athens. Newspapers echo\nand spread with addition the eloquence of popular orators, beyond the\nears that actually listen to them. Still, think what it would be to\nhave a general election, upon every bill that passes through\nParliament: for that is what pure democracy comes to. The plan would\nscarcely work with a total electorate of thirty thousand. You say the\npeople would entrust a committee with the passing of ordinary\nmeasures, reserving to themselves the supervision. I am not arguing\nthe physical impossibility, but the moral difficulties of such an\narrangement. For either the people throw the reins of government on\nthe neck of this committee, or they keep a tight hold upon the\ncommittee and guide it. In the former case the popular sovereignty\nbecomes like that of a monarch who leans much on favourites, a\nsovereignty largely participated in by others than the nominal holder\nof the control. On the other hand, if the people do frequently\ninterfere, and take a lively interest in the doings of the subordinate\nassembly, the people themselves must be a small body. An active\ngoverning body of three hundred thousand members would be as great a\nwonder as an active man weighing three hundred pounds. Only in a small\nState is that intense political life possible, which a pure democracy\nmust live. There only, as Rousseau requires, can the public service be\nthe principal affair of the citizens. \"All things considered,\" he\nsays, \"I do not see how it is any longer possible for the Sovereign\n(People) to preserve amongst us the exercise of his rights, if the\ncity is not very small.\" (_Contrat Social_, l. iii., c. xv.) And the\ndifficulty of size in a democracy is aggravated, if, as Socialists\npropose, the democratic State is to be sole capitalist within its own\nlimits. The perfect sovereignty of the people means the disruption of\nempires, and the pushing to extremity of what is variously described\nas _local government, home rule, autonomy_, and _decentralisation_,\ntill every commune becomes an independent State. But for defence in\nwar and for commerce in peace, these little States must federate; and\nfederation means centralisation, external control over the majority at\nhome, restricted foreign relations, in fact the corruption of pure\ndemocracy.\n\n8. Again, the perfect sovereignty of the people cannot subsist except\nupon the supposition that one man is as much a born ruler as another,\nwhich means a levelling down of the best talent of the community, for\nthat is the only way in which capacities can be equalised--a very\nwasteful and ruinous expedient, and one that the born leaders of the\npeople will not long endure. Then there is the proverbial fickleness\nof democracy, one day all aglow, and cooled down the next, never\npursuing any course steadily, in foreign policy least of all, though\nthere the dearest interests of the State are often at stake. As one\nwho lived under such a government once put it: \"Sheer democracy is of\nall institutions the most ill-balanced and ill put together, like a\nwave at sea restlessly tossing before the fitful gusts of wind:\npoliticians come and go, and not one of them cares for the public\ninterest, or gives it a thought.\" (Quoted by Demosthenes, Speech on\nthe Embassy, p. 383 A.) What they do care for and think of sedulously,\nis pleasing the people and clinging to office. In that respect they\nare the counterparts of the favourites who cluster round the throne of\na despotic monarch, and suck up his power by flattering him. Peoples\nhave their favourites as well as kings. To these persons, the Cleon or\nGracchus of the hour, they blindly commit the management of their\nconcerns, as the _roi fain\u00e9ant_ of old Frankish times left everything\nto his Mayor of the Palace, till the Mayor came to reign in his\nmaster's stead; and so has the popular favourite ere now developed\ninto the military despot. Strong-minded kings of course are not ruled\nby favourites, nor are highly intelligent and capable peoples; but it\nis as hard to find a people fit to wield the power of pure democracy\nas to find an individual fit for an absolute monarch, especially where\nthe State is large.\n\n9. From all this we conclude that the new-fashioned Magog of pure\ndemocracy, or the perfect sovereignty of the people, is not to be\nworshipped to the overthrow and repudiation of all other polities, any\nmore than the old-fashioned Gog of pure monarchy, idolised by Stuart\ncourtiers under the name of \"the divine right of kings.\" Neither of\nthese is _the polity_: each is _a polity_, but not one to be commonly\nrecommended. The study of polities admirably illustrates the\nAristotelian doctrine of the Golden Mean (_Ethics_, c. v., s. iv., p.\n77), teaching us ordinarily to affect limited monarchy or limited\ndemocracy. But as the mean must ever be chosen in _relation to\nourselves_, a Constantine or an Athenian Demos may represent the\nproper polity in place under extraordinary circumstances.\n\n_Reading_.--_The Month_ for July, 1886, pp. 338, seqq.\n\n\nSECTION VI.--_Of the Elementary and Original Polity_.\n\n\n1. \"All things are double, one against another.\" (Ecclus. xlii. 25.)\nThe son of Sirach may have had in view the human body as divisible by\na vertical median line into two symmetrical halves. But in each of the\nhalves thus made, the same organ or limb is never repeated twice in\nexact likeness, nor do any two parts render exactly the same service.\nThis variety of organs in the bodies of the higher animals is called\n_differentiation_. As we descend in the animal series we find less and\nless of differentiation, till we reach the lowest types, which are\nlittle more than a mere bag, whence their name of Ascidians. In that\nState which has London for its capital city, we behold one of the\nhighest types of political existence. Sovereignty is there divided, as\nusual in modern States, into three branches, Legislative, Judicial,\nand Executive. Each of these branches is shared among many persons in\nvarious modes and degrees, so that in practice it is not easy to\nenumerate and specify the holders of sovereignty, nor to characterize\nso complex a polity. At the other end of the scale we may represent to\nourselves 250 \"squatters\" forming an independent State in the far West\nof America. They are a pure democracy, and the sovereignty belongs to\nthem all jointly. Is a man to be tried for his life? The remaining 249\nare his judges. Is a tax to be levied on ardent spirits? The 250 vote\nit. Is there a call to arms? The 250 marshal themselves to war. That\nclearly is the condition of minimum differentiation, where one citizen\nis in all political points the exact counterpart of all the rest. Of\nall polities it is the most _simple and elementary_ possible. And so\nfar forth as the natural order of evolution in polities, as in all\nother things, is from simple to compound, this is also the _original_\npolity. It is also the _residuary_ polity, that, namely, which comes\nto be, when all other government in the State vanishes. Thus, if the\nPowder Plot had succeeded, and King James I., with the royal family,\nLords and Commons, with the judges and chief officers of the\nExecutive, had all perished together, the sovereign authority in\nEngland would have devolved upon the nation as a whole.\n\n2. Certain monarchical writers shrink from the recognition of pure\ndemocracy as either the first or the last term of the series of\npolities. They do not recognize it as a polity at all. When there is\nno governing body distinct from the mass of people at large, a\ngovernment must be formed, they say, by popular suffrage. Meanwhile,\naccording to them, the sovereign power rests not with the body of\nelectors: either it is not yet created, or it has lapsed: but as soon\nas the election is made, they see sovereignty breaking forth like the\nsun rising, in the person, single or composite, who is the object of\nthe people's choice. This would be the correct view of the matter, if\nno choice were left to the electors, but they were obliged to\nacquiesce in some prearranged polity, as a Monarchy, or a Council of\nTen, and could do nothing more than designate the Monarch or the\nCouncil. Under such a restriction the Cardinals elect the Pope. But\nour electors can institute any polity they see fit. They are a\nConstituent Assembly. They may fix upon a monarchy or a republic, two\nor one legislative chambers, a wide or a narrow franchise, home rule\nor centralization: or they may erect a Provisional Government for five\nyears with another appeal to the people at the end of that term. More\nthan that. They could impose a protective duty upon corn, or endow the\nRoman Catholic religion, making such protection or endowment a\nfundamental law (s. iv., n. 8, p. 323), and withholding from the\ngovernment, which they proceed to set up, the power of meddling with\nthat law. They are then not only a Constituent but likewise a\nLegislative Assembly. But this power of making laws and moulding the\nfuture constitution of the State, what else is it but sovereign power,\nand indeed the very highest manifestation of sovereignty?\n\n3. So far we follow Suarez in his controversy with James I. The\n_natural_ order of evolution certainly is, that the State should be\nconceived in pure democracy, and thence develop into other polities.\nBut in speaking as though the natural order had always been the\n_actual_ order, Suarez seems to have been betrayed by the ardour of\ncontroversy into the use of incorrect expressions. It is true in the\nabstract, as he says, that \"no natural reason can be alleged why\nsovereignty should be fixed upon one person, or one set of persons,\nrather than upon another, short of the whole community.\" This is true,\ninasmuch as in the abstract we view men as men, in which specific\ncharacter they are all equal. But in the concrete and real life, the\nprimeval citizens who start a commonwealth are rarely alike and equal,\nas the founders of the American Republic at the separation from Great\nBritain pretty well were, but some men, or some order of men, will so\nmuch excel the rest in ability, position, or possessions, that the\nrest have really no choice but to acquiesce in those gifted hands\nholding the sovereignty.\n\n_Readings_.--Suarez, _De Legibus_, III., iii., 6; _ib._, III., iv.,\nnn. 2, 3, 4; _Defensio Fidei_, III., ii., nn. 7, 8, 9; Ar., _Pol._,\nIII., xiv., 12; _ib._, VIII., x., nn. 7, 8; _The Month_ for July,\n1886, pp. 342-345.\n\n\nSECTION VII.--_Of Resistance to Civil Power_.\n\n\n\"When they say the King owes his crown to the choice of his people,\nthey tell us that they mean to say no more than that some of the\nKing's predecessors have been called to the throne by some sort of\nchoice. Thus they hope to render their proposition safe by rendering\nit nugatory.\" (Burke, _Reflections on French Revolution_.)\n\n1. The great question about civil power is, not whence it first came\nin remote antiquity, but whence it is now derived and flows\ncontinually as from its source, whether from the free consent of\nsubjects so long as that lasts, or whether it obtains independently of\ntheir consent. Can subjects overthrow the ruler, or alter the polity\nitself, as often as they have a mind so to do? or has the ruler a\nright to his position even against the will of his people? A parallel\nquestion is, can a province annexed to an empire secede when it\nchooses, as South Carolina and other Confederates once attempted\nsecession from the American Union?\n\n2. These questions raise two totally different issues, which must be\nfirst carefully distinguished and then severally answered. The first\npoint at issue is whether subjects may dethrone their ruler, a people\nalter their polity, or a province secede from an empire, _at\ndiscretion_. The second point is, whether the same may be done _under\npressure of dire injustice_. One little matter of phraseology must be\nrectified before an answer is returned to this first point. The\nquestion whether _subjects_ may dethrone their _ruler_ at discretion,\nfrom the terms in which it is drawn, can lead to none but a negative\nanswer. From the fact that they are subjects, and this man, or this\nbody of men, their ruler, their allegiance cannot be wholly\ndiscretionary. That sovereign is a mere man of straw, there is no soul\nand substance of sovereign power in him, who may be knocked down and\ncarted away for rubbish, any moment his so-called subjects please.\nRousseau is quite clear on this point. The true debateable form of the\nquestion is, whether the people, being themselves sovereign, can\nremove at will the official persons who actually administer the State;\nwhether they can change the polity, and whether the inhabitants of a\nprovince can secede. The answer now is simple: all depends upon the\npolity of the particular country where the case comes for discussion.\nAnd if so it be that the constitution makes no provision one way or\nanother, any dispute that may occur must be settled by amicable\narrangement among the parties concerned: if they cannot amicably\nagree, they must fight. To save this last eventuality, it were well\nthat any claim which the people in any country may have to remove\nprinces and statesmen from office, to alter the polity, or to divide\nthe empire, should be made matter of the clearest understanding and\nmost express and unambiguous stipulation. Even so, such a provision\nmust be generally viewed with disfavour by the political philosopher,\nseeing how it tends to the weakening and undermining of government;\nwhereas the same considerations that make out government to be at all\na boon and a necessity to human nature, argue incapacity and\ninstability in the governing power to be a deplorable evil. We must\nadd, that where the people keep in their hands any power to alter the\npolity, or transfer the administration to other hands, there they hold\npart at least of the sovereignty; and the alteration or transference\nis effected by them, not as subjects, but as partial ruler.\n\n3. The second point we raised was, whether a dethronement, or an\nalteration of polity, or a secession, may be brought about, not indeed\nat discretion for any cause, but under pressure of dire injustice. It\ncomes to this: May the civil power be resisted when it does grievous\nwrong? Let us begin our reply with another question: May children\nstrike their parents? No. Not even in self-defence? when the parent is\ngoing about to do the child some grievous bodily hurt? That is an\nunpleasant question, but the answer is plain. We can make no\nexceptions to the rule of self-defence. Self-defence in extreme cases\nmay raise the arm of a child against its parent: in a similar\nextremity it may set a people in conflict with their civil ruler.\nStill we regard with horror the idea of striking a parent, and speak\nof it generally as a thing never to be done: so should we regard and\nspeak of rebellion. We should not parade it before men's eyes as a\ndeed to be contemplated, admired, and readily put in execution. \"I\nconfess to you, Sir,\" writes Burke, \"I never liked this continual talk\nof resistance and revolution, or the practice of making the extreme\nmedicine of the constitution its daily bread.\"\n\n4. The conditions under which the civil authority may be withstood in\nself-defence, are fairly stated in the _Dublin Review_ for April,\n1865, p. 292. We must premise, that such a course of self-defence once\npublicly entered upon is like a rock rolled over the brow of a steep\nmountain: down it rolls and rebounds from point to point, gathering\nmomentum in the descent, till in the end the ruler, once defied, has\nto be dethroned, the polity subverted, the empire rent, or they who\nmade the resistance must perish.\n\n\"Resistance is lawful:--(1) When a government has become substantially\nand habitually tyrannical, and that is when it has lost sight of the\ncommon good, and pursues its own selfish objects to the manifest\ndetriment of its subjects, especially where their religious interests\nare concerned. (2) When all legal and pacific means have been tried in\nvain to recall the ruler to a sense of his duty. (3) When there is a\nreasonable probability that resistance will be successful, and not\nentail greater evils than it seeks to remove. (4) When the judgment\nformed as to the badness of the government, and the prudence of\nresistance thereto, is not the opinion only of private persons or of a\nmere party: but is that of the larger and better portion of the\npeople, so that it may morally be considered as the judgment of the\ncommunity as a whole.\"\n\n5. Side by side with this we will set the teaching of Leo XIII.,\nEncyclical, _Quod Apostolici_.\n\n\"If ever it happens that civil power is wielded by rulers recklessly\nand beyond all bounds, the doctrine of the Catholic Church does not\nallow of insurgents rising up against them _by independent action\n(proprio marte)_, lest the tranquillity of order be more and more\ndisturbed, or society receive greater injury thereby: and when things\nare come to such a pass that _there appears no other ray or hope of\npreservation_, the same authority teaches that a remedy must be sought\nin the merits of Christian patience and in earnest prayers to God.\"\n\nThe words we have italicized seem to point to conditions (4) and (3)\nrespectively, as laid down by the writer in the _Dublin Review_.\n\nFor an instance of a king dethroned, not _proprio marte_, but with\nevery appearance at least of an act of the whole nation, see the\ndethronement of Edward II., as related by Walsingham, _Historia\nAnglicana_, I., pp. 186, 187, Rolls Series.\n\n6. \"We save ourselves the more virulent and destructive diseases of\nrevolution, sedition, and civil war, by submitting to the milder type\nof a change of ministry.\" (_Times_, April 7, 1880.)\n\n7. It is not monarchical governments alone that can ever be resisted\nlawfully: but what is sauce for the king's goose is sauce also for the\npeople's gander. There is no special sanctity attaching to democracy.\n\nIt might seem that, since resistance requires to be justified by the\napproval of \"the larger and better portion of the people\" (n. 4,\ncondition [4]) no just resistance can ever be offered to the will of\nthe democratic majority. But the said majority may be in divers ways\ncoerced and cajoled, a mere packed majority, while the malcontents may\nbe, if not \"the larger,\" clearly \"the better\" portion of the\ncommunity. (s. iv., n. 5, p. 321.)\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., _De Regimine Principum_, i., 6; 2a 2\u00e6, q. 42,\nart. 2; 2a 2\u00e6, q, 69, art. 4, in corp.; Locke, _Of Civil Government_,\nnn. 200, 201, 203, 204, 208, 209, 223, 224, 225, 227, 229, 230, 232.\n\n\nSECTION VIII.--_Of the Right of the sword_.\n\n\n1. _By the right of the sword_ is technically meant the right of\ninflicting capital punishment, according to the Apostle's words: \"But\nif thou do that which is evil, fear: for he beareth not the sword in\nvain.\" (Rom. xiii. 4.) We commonly call it _the power of life and\ndeath_.\n\n2. That a government may be a working government, as it should be (s.\niv., n. 2, p. 319), it must not only make laws, but bear out and\nenforce its legislation by the sanction of punishment. \"If talk and\nargumentation were sufficient to make men well-behaved, manifold and\nhigh should be the reward of talkers.... But in fact it appears that\ntalking does very well to incite and stimulate youths of fine mind;\nand lighting upon a noble character and one of healthy tastes, it may\ndispose such a person to take up the practice of virtue: but it is\nwholly unable to move the multitude to goodness; for it is not their\nnature to obey conscience, but fear, nor to abstain from evil because\nit is wrong, but because of punishments. The multitude live by\nfeeling: they pursue the pleasures that they like and the means\nthereto, and shun the opposite pains, but they have no idea, as they\nhave had no taste, of what is right and fair and truly sweet.... The\nman who lives by feeling will not listen to the voice of reason, nor\ncan he appreciate its warning. How is it possible to divert such a one\nfrom his course by argument? Speaking generally, we say that passion\nyields not to argument but to constraint.... The multitude obey on\ncompulsion rather than on principle, and from fear of pains and\npenalties rather than from a sense of right. These are grounds for\nbelieving that legislators, while exhorting to virtue and putting\ncertain courses of conduct forward as right and honourable, in the\nexpectation that good men will obey the call, as their habits lead\nthem, should at the same time inflict chastisements and punishments\nupon the crossgrained and disobedient; and as for the incurably\nvicious, put them beyond the pale altogether. The result will be, that\nthe decent and conscientious citizen will listen to the voice of\nreason, while the worthless votary of pleasure is chastened by pain\nlike a beast of burden.... Law has a coercive function, appealing to\nforce, notwithstanding that it is a reasoned conclusion of practical\nwisdom and intelligence. The interference of persons is odious, when\nit stands out against the tide of passion, even where it is right and\nproper to interfere; but no odium attaches to statute law enjoining\nthe proper course.\" (Aristotle, _Ethics_, X., ix.)\n\n3. Aristotle seems hard upon the masses, likening them to brutes who\nmust be governed by the whip. He may be supposed to speak from\nexperience of the men of his time. If humanity has somewhat improved\nin two and twenty centuries, yet it cannot be contended that the whip\nis grown unnecessary and beyond the whip the sword. But we must\nobserve a certain _modus operandi_ of punishment which Aristotle has\nnot noted, a more human mode than the terror of slavish fear. Just\npunishment, felt as such, stimulates the conscience to discern and\nabhor the crime. Men would think little of outraging their own nature\nby excess, did they not know that the laws of God and man forbid such\noutrage. Again, they would think little even of those laws, were not\nthe law borne out by the sanction of punishment. A law that may be\nbroken with impunity is taken to be the toying of a legislator not in\nearnest. Men here are as children. A child is cautioned against lying.\nHe reckons little of the caution: he tells a lie, and a flogging\nensues. Thereupon his mind reverts to what he was told: he sees that\nthe warning was meant in earnest. He reflects that it must have been a\nwicked thing, that lie which his father, the object of his fond\nreverence, chastises so sternly. If the thing had been let pass, he\nwould scarcely have regarded it as wicked. Next time he is more on his\nguard, not merely because he fears a beating, but because he\nunderstands better than before that lying is wrong. The awe in which\ngrown-up people stand of \"a red judge,\" is not simple fear, like that\nwhich keeps the wolf from the flock guarded by shepherds and their\ndogs: but they are alarmed into reflection upon the evil which he is\nGod's minister to avenge, and they are moved to keep the law, \"not\nonly for wrath, but for conscience sake.\" From this we see that for\npunishment to be really salutary, its justice must be manifest to the\nculprit, or to the lookers on, at least in their cooler moments. A\npunishment the justice of which is not discernible, may quell for the\nmoment, but it does not moralise, nor abidingly deter. There must be\nan apparent proportion between the offence and the punishment. A\nDraconian code, visiting petty offences with the severity due to high\nmisdemeanours, is more of an irritant than a represser of crime,\nbecause it goes beyond men's consciences.\n\n4. There is in every human breast a strong sense of what the learned\ncall _lex talionis_, and children _tit for tat_. \"If a man has done to\nhim what he has done to others, that is the straight course of\njustice;\" so says the canon of Rhadamanthus, quoted by Aristotle.\n(_Eth_., V., v., 3.) We have argued the fundamental correctness of\nthis rule. (_Ethics_, c. ix., s. iii., n. 2, p. 169.) It appears in\nthe divine direction given to Nod: \"Whoso sheddeth man's blood, his\nblood shall be shed.\" (Gen. ix. 6.) It appears in that popular\nsentiment, which in some parts of America displays itself in the\nlynching of murderers, who have unduly escaped the hands of the law;\nand which, under a similar paralysis of law in Corsica, broke out in\nblood-feuds, whereby the nearest relative of the deceased went about\nto slay the murderer. Such taking of justice into private hands is\nmorally unlawful, as we have proved. (_Ethics_, c. ix., s. iii., n. 4,\np. 171; _Natural Law_, c. viii., s. ii., nn. 2, 3, pp. 308, 309.) It\nis a violent outburst of a natural and reasonable sentiment deprived\nof its legitimate vent. Unquestionably then there is an apparent and\ncommonly recognized fairness of retribution in the infliction of\ncapital punishment for murder. Thus the first condition of appropriate\npunishment is satisfied, that it be _manifestly proportioned to the\ncrime_.\n\n5. Capital punishment is moreover expedient, nay, necessary to the\nState. The right to inflict it is one of the essential prerogatives of\ngovernment, one of those prerogatives the sum of which, as we have\nseen, is a constant quantity everywhere, (s. iv., n. 7, p. 322). No\nGovernment can renounce it. The abolition of capital punishment by law\nonly makes the power of inflicting it _latent_ in the State (s. iv.,\nn. 8, p. 323); it does not and cannot wholly take the power away. You\nask: Is there not hope, that if humanity goes on improving as it has\ndone, capital punishment will become wholly unnecessary? I answer\nthat--waiving the question of the prospect of improvement--in a State\nmainly consisting of God-fearing, conscientious men, the _infliction_\nof capital punishment would rarely be necessary, but the _power to\ninflict it_ could never be dispensed with. If men ever become so\nideally virtuous, the right of the State to visit gross crime with\ndeath cannot hurt them, and it will strengthen their virtue, as all\nhuman social virtue will ever need strengthening.\n\n6. The abiding necessity of this _right of the sword_ is argued from\nthe strength and frequency of the provocations to deeds of bloodshed\nand violence that must ever be encountered in human society. What\nthese provocations are, how many and how strong, may be left to the\nreflection of the student who reads his newspaper, or even his novel.\nNot the least appalling thing about crime, atrocious crime especially,\nis the example that it gives and the imitators whom it begets. It is\nnot merely that it sets the perpetrator himself on the downward path,\nso that, unless detected and punished, a man's first deed of blood is\nrarely his last: it draws others after him by a fatal fascination.\nLike the images which the Epicureans supposed all visible objects to\nslough off and shed into the air around them, such phantoms and images\nof guilt float about a great crime, enter into the mind of the\nspectator and of the hearer, and there, upon slight occasion, turn to\nactual repetitions of the original deed. The one preventive is to\nappend to that deed a punishment, the image of which shall also enter\ninto the mind, excite horror, and disenchant the recipient. This is\nnot to be done by mere banishment of the criminal, nor by his\nperpetual incarceration. Exile and prison--particularly in view of the\nhumanity of a modern penitentiary--do not sufficiently strike the\nimagination. One sweet hour of revenge will often appear cheap at the\nprice of ten years' penal servitude. There is nothing goes to the\nheart like death. Death is the most striking of terrors; it is also\nthe penalty that most exactly counterpoises in the scales of justice\nthe commission of a murderous crime. All States need this dread figure\nof the Sword-bearer standing at the elbow of the Sovereign.\n\n7. But is not every capital sentence a trespass upon the dominion of\nGod, Lord of life and death? No, for that same God it is who has\nendowed man with a nature that needs to grow up in civil society,\nwhich civil society again needs for its maintenance the power to make\nlaws, to sit in judgment on transgressors, and in extreme cases, as we\nhave proved, having tried them and found them guilty, to take away\neven their lives, to the common terror and horror of the crime. God,\nwho wills human nature to be, wills it to be on the terms on which\nalone it can be. To that end He has handed over to the civil ruler so\nmuch of His own divine power of judgment, as shall enable His human\ndelegate to govern with assurance and effect. That means the right of\nthe sword.\n\n8. It may be objected that to kill any man is to treat him as a\n_thing_, not a person, as an _heterocentric_, not an _autocentric_\nbeing, which is a proceeding essentially unnatural and wrong, (c. ii.,\ns. i., n. 2, p. 203.) St. Thomas's answer here is peculiarly valuable:\n\n\"Man by sinning withdraws from the order of reason, and thereby falls\nfrom human dignity, so far as that consists in man being naturally\nfree and existent for his own sake [autocentric]; and falls in a\nmanner into the state of servitude proper to beasts, according to that\nof the Psalm (xlviii. 15): _Man when he was in honour did not\nunderstand: he hath matched himself with senseless beasts and become\nlike unto them_; and Proverbs xi. 29: _The fool shall serve the wise_.\nAnd therefore, though to kill a man, while he abides in his native\ndignity, be a thing of itself evil, yet to kill a man who is a sinner\nmay be good, as to kill a beast. For worse is an evil man than a\nbeast, and more noxious, as the Philosopher says.\" (2a 2\u00e6, q. 64, art.\n2, ad 3.)\n\nHence observe:--(1) That a Utilitarian who denies free will, as many\nof that school do, stands at some loss whence to show cause why even\nan innocent man may not be done to death for reasons of State, _e.g._,\nas a sanitary precaution.\n\n(2) That the State must come to a conclusion about inward dispositions\nby presumption from overt acts, arguing serious moral guilt before\nproceeding to capital punishment. To this extent the State is remotely\na judge of sin. But it does not punish sin _retributively_ as sin, nor\neven _medicinally_. It punishes the violation of its own laws, to\n_deter_ future offenders. (_Ethics_, c. ix., s. iii., nn. 4-6, pp.\n171-174.)\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 64, art. 2, 3; 2a 2\u00e6, q. 108, art.\n3.\n\n\nSECTION IX.--_Of War_.\n\n\n1. War, a science by itself, has no interest for the philosopher\nexcept as an instance on a grand scale of self-defence. When the\ntheory of self-defence has been mastered (c. ii. s. ii., p. 208),\nlittle further remains to be said about war. In a State, the\nself-defence of citizen against citizen is confined to the moment of\nimmediate physical aggression. But in a region where the State is\npowerless and practically non-existent, self-defence assumes a far\ngreater amplitude. (S. ii., n, 2, p. 309.) When the Highland chief\nlifted the cattle of the Lowland farmer, and the King of Scotland lay\nunconcerned and unable to intervene, feasting at Holyrood, or fighting\non the English border, then, if there were a fair hope of recovering\nthe booty without a disproportionate effusion of blood, the farmer did\nright to arm his people, march after the robber, and fight him for the\nstolen oxen, as the gallant Baron of Bradwardine would fain have done.\n(_Waverley_, c. xv.) Here is the right of self-defence in its full\ndevelopment, including the right of private war. But in a private\nindividual this is an undesirable, rank, and luxuriant growth; and\nwhen the individual comes to live, as it should be his aim to live, in\na well-organized State, the growth is pruned and cut down: he may then\ndefend himself for the instant when the State cannot defend him; but\nafter the wrong is done, he must hold his hand, and quietly apply to\nthe State to procure him restitution and redress. But there is no\nState of States, no King of Kings, upon earth; therefore, when of two\nindependent States the one has wronged, or is about to wrong the\nother, and will not desist nor make amends, nothing is left for it;\nNature has made no other provision, but they must fight. They must\nfall back upon the steel and the shotted gun, the _ratio ultima\nregum_.\n\n2. The Lowland farmer above mentioned might be spoken of as\n_punishing_ the Highland robber, _chastising_ his insolence, and the\nlike. This is popular phraseology, but it is not accurate. Punishment,\nan act of _vindictive justice_, is from superior to inferior.\n(_Ethics_, c. v., s. ix., n. 4, p. 104.) War, like other self-defence,\nis between equals. War is indeed an act of authority, of the authority\nof each belligerent State over its own subjects, but not of one\nbelligerent over the other. We are not here considering the case of\nputting down a rebellion: rebels are not properly belligerents, and\nhave no belligerent rights.\n\n3. The study of Civil and Canon Law flourished in the Middle Ages,\nwhile moral science, which is the study of the Natural Law, was still\nin its infancy. No wonder that the mediaeval jurists occasionally\nformulated maxims, which can only be squared with the principles of\nNatural Law by an exceeding amount of interpretation,--which are in\nfact much better dropped, quoted though they sometimes be by moralists\nof repute. One such maxim is this, that _a wrong-doer becomes the\nsubject of the injured party by reason of the offence_. Admit this,\nand you can hardly keep clear of Locke's doctrine of the origin of\ncivil power, (s. ii., _per totum_, p. 307; cf. Suarez, _De Caritate_,\nd. xiii., s. iv., nn. 5, 6).\n\n4. We have only to repeat about war what we said of self-defence, that\nall the killing that takes place in it is _incidental_, or _indirect_.\nThe cannon that you see in Woolwich Arsenal, the powder and torpedoes,\nhave for their end what St. Thomas (_De Potentia_, q. 7, art. 2, ad\n10) declares to be the end and object of the soldier, \"to upset the\nfoe,\" to put him _hors de combat_. This is accomplished in such rough\nand ready fashion, as the business admits of; by means attended with\nincidental results of extremest horror. But no sooner has the bayonet\nthrust or the bullet laid the soldier low, and converted him into a\nnon-combatant, than the ambulance men are forward to see that he shall\nnot die. If indeed even in the dust he continues to be aggressive,\nlike the wounded Arabs at Tel-el-Kebir, he must be quieted and\nrepressed a second time. Probably he will not escape with life from a\nsecond repression: still, speaking with philosophic precision, we must\nsay that \"to quiet, not to kill him,\" is, or should be, the precise\nand formal object of the will of his slayer in war. St. Thomas indeed\n(2a 2\u00e6, q. 64, art. 7, in corp.) seems to allow the soldier fighting\nagainst the enemy to mean to kill his man. But by _enemy_ in this\npassage we should probably understand _rebel_. The soldier spoken of\nis the instrument of the feudal lord bringing back to duty his\nrebellious vassal. In the Middle Ages, till the end of the fifteenth\ncentury, the notion of independent nations scarcely found place.\n\nIn war, as all cases of self-defence, the killing is indirect. In\ncapital punishment, on the other hand, the killing is direct: it being\n_chosen as a deterrent means_, that the offender be \"hanged by the\nneck\" till he is \"dead, dead, dead.\" This disposes of the error, that\ncapital punishment is an act of self-defence on the part of the State\nagainst evildoers. We may observe finally that by the right of the\nsword, and by that alone, not in self-defence, not in war, but by the\nhand of public justice raised against a guilty subject, can human life\never be taken _directly_.\n\n_Reading_.--St. Thos., 2a 2\u00e6, q. 40, art. 1.\n\n\nSECTION X.--_Of the Scope and Aim of Civil Government_.\n\n\n1. I beseech the pious reader not to be shocked and scandalised by the\nconclusions of this section. He will find them in the end a valuable\nsupport to theology. The most religious mind can have no difficulty in\nallowing that cookery, as such, is a business of this world only: that\nyou retain your cook, not to save your soul, but to prepare palatable\nand wholesome nourishment for your body; that honesty, sobriety, and\ngood temper are officially requisite qualifications, simply inasmuch\nas the contrary vices would be the plague of your kitchen and the\nspoiling of your dinner. In a Catholic house the soup on a Friday is\nmade without meat. That restriction is observed, not as a point of\nculinary art, but because, whereas eternal salvation is the main end\nof life, and cookery a subordinate end, the latter must be so\nprosecuted as not to interfere with the former. She who uses\ningredients forbidden by the Church, is the worse Christian, but she\nmay be the better cook. Now, to compare a great thing with a little,\nthe State equally with the kitchen is a creation of this world,--there\nare no nationalities, nor kitchen-ranges either, beyond the grave.\nCivil government is a secular concern. The scope and aim intrinsic to\nit, and attainable by its own proper forces, is a certain temporal\ngood. Suarez (_De Legibus_, III., xi., 7) sets forth that good to\nbe,--\"the natural happiness of the perfect human community, whereof\nthe civil legislature has the care, and the happiness of individuals\nas they are members of such of a community, that they may live therein\npeaceably and justly, and with a sufficiency of goods for the\npreservation and comfort of their bodily life, and with so much moral\nrectitude as is necessary for this external peace and happiness of the\ncommonwealth and the continued preservation of human nature.\"\n\n2. The intrinsic scope and aim of civil government is the good of the\ncitizens as citizens. That, we have to show, is not any good of the\nworld to come; nor again the full measure of good requisite for\nindividual well-being in this world. The good of the citizens as such\nis that which they enjoy in common in their social and political\ncapacity: namely, security, wealth, liberty, commerce, the arts of\nlife, arms, glory, empire, sanitation, and the like, all which goods,\nof their own nature, reach not beyond this world. True, a certain\nmeasure of moral rectitude also is maintained in common, but only \"so\nmuch as is necessary for the external peace and happiness of the\ncommonwealth,\" not that rectitude of the whole man which is required\nin view of the world to come. (Ethics, c. x., n. 4 [3], p. 182.) The\nintrinsic aim of the State, then, falls short of the next life.\nNeither does it cover the entire good of the individual even for this\nlife. The good of the State, and of each citizen as a citizen, which\nit is the purpose of civil government to procure, is a mere grand\noutline, within which every man has to fill in for himself the little\nsquare of his own personal perfection and happiness. Happiness, as we\nhave seen, lies essentially in inward acts. The conditions of these\nacts, outward tranquillity and order, are the statesman's care: the\nacts themselves must be elicited by each individual from his own\nheart. Happiness also depends greatly on domestic life, the details of\nwhich, at least when they stop short of wife-beating, come not within\nthe cognisance of the civil power. It remains, as we have said, that\nthe scope and aim of the State, within its own sphere and the compass\nof its own powers, is the temporal prosperity of the body politic, and\nthe prosperity of its members as they are its members and citizens,\nbut not absolutely as they are men. We cannot repeat too often the\nsaying of St. Thomas: \"Man is not ordained to the political\ncommonwealth to the full extent of all that he is and has.\" (1a 2\u00e6, q.\n21, art. 4, ad 3.)\n\n3. From this view it appears that the end for which the State exists\nis indeed an important and necessary good, but it is not all in all to\nman, not his perfect and final happiness. To guide man to that is the\noffice of the Christian Church in the present order of Providence.\nCook and statesman must so go about the proper ends of their several\noffices, as not to stand in the way of the Church, compassing as she\ndoes that supreme end to which all other ends are subordinate. This\nlimitation they are bound to observe, not as cook and statesman, but\nas men and Christians. A perfectly Christian State, as Christian, has\na twofold duty. First, it has a _positive_ duty, at the request of the\nChurch, to follow up ecclesiastical laws with corresponding civil\nenactments, _e.g_., laws against criminous clerks and excommunicates.\nOn this spiritual ground, being beyond its jurisdiction, the State\nmust be careful not to forestall but to second the precept of\nspiritual authority. It is no business of the State, as such, to\npunish a purely religious offence. The second duty of a Christian\nState, and a more urgent duty even than the former, is the _negative_\none of making no civil enactment to the prejudice of the Church:\n_e.g._, not to subject clerics to the law of conscription. Useful as\ntheir arms might be for the defence of the country, the State must\nforego that utility for the sake of a higher end.\n\n4. In the order of pure nature, which is the order of philosophy,\nthere is of course no Church. Still there would be, as we have seen\n(c. i., s. i., n. 8, p. 197), erected on the same lines as the civil\npower, and working side by side with it, a religious power competent\nto prescribe and conduct divine worship. This power the State would be\nbound to abet and support, both positively and negatively; something\nin the same manner, but not to the same degree, as the Christian State\nis bound to abet the Church. The supreme direction of the natural\nreligious power would conveniently be vested in the person of the\nCivil Ruler. Thus the Roman Emperor was also Chief Pontiff.\n\n5. How in the mere natural, as distinguished from the Christian order,\nthe provinces of marriage and education should be divided between the\ncivil and the religious power, is perhaps not a very profitable\nenquiry. The only use of it is a polemic use in arguing with men of no\nChristianity. Among all men of any religion, marriage has ever been\nregarded as one of those occasions of life that bring man into special\nrelation with God, and therefore into some dependence on God's\nministers. Education, again, has a religious element, to be\nsuperintended by the religious power. Education has a secular element\nalso, the general superintendence of which cannot be denied to the\nState. Though children are facts of the domestic order, and the care\nand formation of them belongs primarily to their parents, yet if the\nparents neglect their charge, the State can claim the right of\nintervention _ab abusu_. It certainly is within the province of the\nState to prevent any parent from launching upon the world a brood of\nyoung barbarians, ready to disturb the peace of civil society. The\npractical issue is, who are _barbarians_ and what is understood by\n_peace_. The Emperor Decius probably considered every Christian child\nan enemy of the _Pax Romana_. But the misapplication of a maxim does\nnot derogate from its truth. It also belongs to the State to see that\nno parent behaves _like a Cyclops_ ([Greek: kyklopikos], Ar., _Eth_.,\nX., ix., 13) in his family, ordering his children, not to their good,\nas a father is bound to do, but to his own tyrannical caprice. For\n_instruction_, as distinguished from _education_, it is the parent's\nduty to provide his child with so much of it as is necessary, in the\nstate of society wherein his lot is cast, to enable the child to make\nhis way in the world according to the condition of his father. In many\nwalks of life one might as well be short of a finger as not know how\nto read and write. Where ignorance is such a disadvantage, the parent\nis not allowed to let his child grow up ignorant. There, if he\nneglects to have him taught, the State may step in with compulsory\nschooling. Compulsory schooling for all indiscriminately, and that up\nto a high standard, is quite another matter.\n\n_Readings_.--Suarez, _De Legibus_, III., xi.; _ib_., IV., ii., nn. 3,\n4: St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 93, art. 3, ad 3; _ib_., q. 96, art. 2; _ib_.,\nq. 98, art. 1, in corp.;_ib._, q. 99, art. 3, in corp.; _ib_., q. 100,\nart. 2, in corp.\n\n\nSECTION XI.--_Of Law and Liberty_.\n\n\n1. The student of Natural Law does not share the vulgar prejudice\nagainst civil law and lawyers. He knows it for a precept of the\nNatural Law, that there should be a State set up, and that this State\nshould proceed to positive legislation. This legislation partly\ncoincides with Natural Law in urging the practice of that limited\nmeasure of morality, which is necessary for the State to do its office\nand to be at all. (s. x., n. 2, p. 355.) This partial enforcement of\nthe Law of Nature is the main work of the criminal law of the State.\nBut State legislation goes beyond the Natural Law, and in the nature\nof things must go beyond it. Natural Law leaves a thousand conflicting\nrights undetermined, which in the interest of society, to save\nquarrels, must be determined one way or another.\n\n2. An illustration. It is an axiom of Natural Law, that _res perit\ndomino_; that is, the owner bears the loss. If an article under sale\nperishes before delivery, the loss falls, apart from contracts to the\ncontrary, upon whichever of the two parties is the owner at the time.\nSo far nature rules. But who is the owner at any given time, and at\nwhat stage of the transaction does the dominion pass? That can only be\nsettled by custom and the law of the land. \"If I order a pipe of port\nfrom a wine-merchant abroad; at what period the property passes from\nthe merchant to me; whether upon delivery of the wine at the\nmerchant's warehouse; upon its being put on shipboard at Oporto; upon\nthe arrival of the ship in England at its destined port; or not till\nthe wine be committed to my servants, or deposited in my cellar; all\nare questions which admit of no decision but what custom points out.\"\n(Paley, _Mor. Phil_., bk. iii., p. i, c. vii.)\n\nThis leads us to remark upon the much admired sentence of Tacitus, _in\ncorruptissima republica plurimae leges_, that not merely the multitude\nof transgressions, but the very complexity of a highly developed\ncivilization, requires to be kept in order by a vast body of positive\nlaw.\n\n3. Incidentally we may also remark, that the law of the State does not\ncreate the right of property; otherwise, abolishing its own creation,\nthe State could bring in Communism, (c. vii., s. i., p. 278). But\nfinding this right of property unprotected and undetermined, the State\nby its criminal law protects property against robbers, and by its\n_civil_ as distinguished from _criminal_ law, it defines numerous open\nquestions between possessors as to manner of acquirement and\nconditions of tenure.\n\n4. All civil laws bind the conscience: some by way of a categorical\nimperative, _Do this_: others by way of a disjunctive, _Do this, or\nbeing caught acting otherwise, submit to the penalty_. The latter are\ncalled _purely penal laws_, an expression, by the way, which has no\nreference to the days of religious persecution. Civil law binds the\nconscience categorically whenever the civil ruler so intends. In the\nabsence of express declaration, it must be presumed that he so intends\nwhenever his law is an enforcement of the Natural Law, or a\ndetermination of the same; as when the observance is necessary to the\npreservation of the State, or when the ruler determines what lapse of\ntime shall be necessary for the acquisition of property by\nprescription. Very frequently, the parties to a contract tacitly\naccept the dispositions of the civil law as forming part of their\nagreement; and in this indirect fashion the civil law becomes binding\non the conscience. In this way an Englishman who accepts a bill of\nexchange tacitly binds himself to pay interest at five per cent., if\nthe bill is not met at maturity, for such is the disposition of the\nEnglish Law. It may be further observed that no prudent legislator\nwould attach a severe penalty to what was not already wrong.\n\n5. In Roman times it was part of the flattery of the imperial jurists\nto their master, to tell him that he was above the laws, _legibus\nsolutus_. In the trial of Louis XVI., the Sovereign People, or they\nwho called themselves such, dispensed with certain legal formalities\non that same plea. Against the law at Athens, the generals who had\nfought at Arginusae were condemned by one collective sentence, the\nanger of the Sovereign People being too impatient to vote on them\nseparately, as the law required. Hereupon we must observe in the first\nplace, that the Supreme Ruler, whether one man or a multitude, can\nnever be brought to trial in his own court for any legal offence. As\nall justice requires two terms: no power can do justice on itself.\n(_Ethics_, c. v., s. ix., n. 1, p. 102.) This truth is embodied in the\nEnglish maxim, that _the king can do no wrong_. Again, the Sovereign\nis either expressly or virtually exempted from the compass of many\nlaws, _e.g_. those which concern the flying of certain flags or\nensigns, and other petty matters. Thirdly, we have the principle, that\nno being can give a law to himself. (_Ethics_, c. vi. s. ii., n. 3, p.\n117.) Lastly, we must observe that there is no law so fundamental but\nwhat the Supreme Power, taken in its entirety, can alter it, and by\nconsequence dispense from it. From these considerations it follows\nthat the Sovereign--the complete and absolute Sovereign, be he one man\nor many--lies under no legal obligation to obey any law of his own\nmaking as such. It does not follow that he is perfectly free to ignore\nthe laws. He is bound in conscience and before God to make his\ngovernment effectual; and effectual it cannot be, if the laws are\ndespised; and despised they will be, if the Sovereign gives scandal by\nignoring them in his own practice. Therefore the Sovereign, be he\nKing, Council, or Assembly, is bound in conscience and before God,\nthough not legally of his own jurisdiction, so far himself to stand to\nthe observance of the law as not to render it nugatory in the eyes and\npractice of others.\n\n6. Law and liberty are like the strings and meshes of a net. In the\none limit of minimum of mesh, the net passes into sack-cloth, where\nnothing could get through. In the other limit of maximum of mesh, the\nnet vanishes, and everything would get through. We cannot praise in\nthe abstract either a large mesh or a small one: the right size is\naccording to the purpose for which the net is to be used in each\nparticular case. So neither can law nor liberty be praised, as Burke\nsays, \"on a simple view of the subject, as it stands stripped of every\nrelation, in all the nakedness and solitude of metaphysical\nabstraction.\" We can only praise either as it is \"clothed in\ncircumstances.\" Commonly we are led to praise the one by getting too\nmuch of the other. Confounded in a tangle of fussy, vexatious, perhaps\nmalicious restrictions, men cry loudly for liberty. When people all\nabout us are doing things by their own sweet will, we are converted to\npraise of regulation and discipline and the wholesome restraint of\nlaw.\n\n_Readings_.--St. Thos., 1a 2\u00e6, q. 96, art. 5, ad 3; Suarez, _De\nLegibus_, III., xxxv.; _ib_., V., iv.; Ruskin, _Seven Lamps of\nArchitecture_, c. vii., \u00a7\u00a7 I, 2.\n\n\nSECTION XII.--_Of Liberty of Opinion_.\n\n\n1. We are here dealing with liberty only so far as it means exemption\nfrom State control. So far as the State is concerned, a man has the\nfullest liberty to hold in his heart the most seditious opinions, and\nto think the foulest thoughts, so long as they do not appear in his\npublic language and conduct. The heart is free from all mere human\nlaw, resting in subjection to His law alone, and in responsibility to\nHis judgment, who is the Searcher of Hearts.\n\n2. We are dealing then not properly with opinion, but with the public\nexpression of opinion. We are dealing with that expression as\ncontrollable by the State, not acting in deference to the invitation\nof any religious power, but of its own initiative and proper\nauthority, in view of its own end, scope and aim, which is social\norder and public prosperity for this life. (s. x., nn. 2, 3, p. 355.)\n\n3. That there are doctrines dangerous to social order, cannot be\ndenied, unless we are to cease to believe in any influence of thought\nupon conduct. It is important to the State, that men should have the\ngreatest possible horror of crime. (s. viii., nn. 3, 6, pp. 345, 348.)\nThis horror is notably impaired when all idea of sin is taken away.\nNow the idea of sin vanishes with that of God. (_Ethics_, c, vi., s.\nii., nn. 6, 7, 13, pp. 119, 123.) Therefore to pull down the idea of\nGod among a nation of theists, whether by the wiles of a courtly\nProfessor at a University, or by the tub-thumping blasphemy of an\nitinerant lecturer, is to injure the State. The tub-thumper however is\nthe more easily reached by the civil authority, especially when his\ndiscourses raise a tumult among the people. But where attacks upon\ntheism have become common, and unbelief is already rampant among the\nmasses, for the State to interfere with either \"leader of thought,\"\nhigh or low, would be a shutting of the stable-door after the steed\nwas stolen. Similarly we should speak of those who subvert the\nreceived notions touching the sanctity of the marriage-tie and the law\nof external purity generally, the obligation of civil allegiance, the\nrights of property and of life.\n\n4. It will be objected: \"The doctrines that you wish to express as\ninimical to the peace of the commonwealth, possibly may be true. Did\nnot the first heralds of Christianity trouble the peace of the Roman\nworld?\" We reply: Let the new teachers come to us as those apostolic\nmen came, \"in weakness and in fear and in much trembling,\" and yet\nwithal \"in the showing of the spirit and power,\" with an \"exhortation\nnot of uncleanness,\" nor upon \"an occasion of covetousness,\" \"holily\nand justly and without blame\" (1 Cor. ii. 3, 4; 1 Thess. ii. 3, 5,\n10); and we will receive them as angels of God, even to the plucking\nout of our own eyes, if need be, and giving to them. (Gal. iv. 15.)\nAny hostile reception that they may meet with at first from a\nmisapplication of our principle, will soon be made up for by welcome\nand veneration. There is no principle that may not be momentarily\nmisapplied in all good faith. But the mistake in this case will\nreadily be rectified.\n\n5. But, writes J. S. Mill, _On Liberty_, \"we can never be sure that\nthe opinion we are endeavouring to stifle is a false opinion.\" If we\ncannot, then is there no such thing as certainty upon any point of\nmorals, politics, or religion. Assassination of tyrants, whether in\npublic or private life, may be wickedness, or it may be a laudable\noutburst of public spirit, who knows? Which of us is sure that all\nproperty is not theft? Plato's views on marriage and infanticide may\nbe correct: the Nihilist may be your true politician; and all our\nreligious knowledge dwindles down to the confession of Protagoras:\n\"Concerning Gods, I find no clear evidence whether they are or are\nnot, or what manner of beings they are.\" These are the sceptical\ntremors which this denial induces. But even scepticism has its proof,\nwhich Mill furnishes as follows: \"All silencing of discussion is an\nassumption of infallibility.\" The very name _infallibility_ has an\neffect upon the modern Englishman like that of _Popery_ upon his\nforefathers. It shakes his nerves, obscures his judgment, and scares\nhis seated reason to leap up from her throne. But after we have\nrecovered from our fright, we recollect that, whereas infallibility is\nan all-round attribute, compassing an entire subject, certainty goes\nout to one particular point on the circumference; we may then be\ncertain without being infallible. Extremely fallible as I am in\ngeography, I am nevertheless certain that Tunis is in Africa.\nSilencing discussion is an assumption, not of infallibility, but of\ncertainty. The man who never dares assume that he is certain of\nanything, so certain as to close his ears to all further discussion,\ncomes nothing short of a universal sceptic.\n\n6. We are told, free discussion promotes discovery. Yes, free\ndiscussion in philosophical circles, free discussion among competent\npersons. But free discussion of a subject among the incompetent and\nthe incapable, and the passionate and the prejudiced, is not good for\nthe cause of truth; and if the subject be practical and momentous, it\nis not good for the disputants either, nor for the community. If we\nallow that the science and practice of morality is not advanced by\nfree debate of ethical questions in nurseries and boarding-schools, we\nmust also bear in mind that a vast proportion of the human family\nremain all their lives long, for the purpose of such discussions, as\nincompetent as children. The multitude cannot be philosophers. They\nhave neither time, nor intelligence, nor love of hard thinking\nsufficient to arrive at the final and adequate _why_ and _wherefore_\nof their every duty. Though capable of doing right, they are quite\nincapable of doing so philosophically. They do it according as they\nare led by custom and authority. Their inheritance is the traditionary\nwisdom of mankind, which they live upon as an infant on his estate,\nnot understanding whence their support comes. It is dangerous to\nbatter them with objections against the received moral law. You will\noverthrow them, not confirm them by the result of your reasonings: you\nwill perplex their intellect, you will confound their good purpose,\nyou will awaken their evil passions. Surely it is a more necessary\npoint to secure that right be done somehow, than that it be\nphilosophically done. The one is difficult enough, the other quite\nimpossible for the mass of mankind. Therefore, adapting to our purpose\nthe old Greek oracle: \"let us not disturb the foundations of popular\nmorality: they are better undisturbed\"--\n\n  [Greek: Mae kinei Kamarinan akinaetos gar ameinoon]\n\n7. But is it not immoral to interfere with conscience, and to attempt\nto stifle sincere convictions? The State, we repeat, has nothing to do\nwith conscience as such, nor with the inward convictions of any man.\nBut if the State is sincerely convinced, that the convictions openly\nprofessed and propagated by some of its subjects are subversive of\nsocial order and public morality, whose sincere conviction is it that\nmust carry the day in practice? It is of the essence of government\nthat the convictions, sincere or otherwise, of the governed shall on\ncertain practical issues be waived in the external observance in\nfavour of the convictions of the ruling power. After all, this talk of\nconscience and sincere convictions is but the canting phrase of the\nday, according to which conscience means mere wild humour and\nheadstrong self-will. Such teachings as those which we would have the\nState to suppress, _e.g.: An oath is a folly: There is no law of\npurity: There is no harm in doing anything that does not annoy your\nneighbour_: are not the teachings of men sincerely convinced: they\ndeserve no respect, consideration, or tenderness on that score. We do\nnot say, that the teachers of these monstrosities are not convinced,\nbut that they are not honestly and conscientiously convinced: they\nhave blinded themselves, and become the guilty authors of their own\ndelusion. Not all strong convictions are honestly come by or\nvirtuously entertained.\n\n8. Arraigned for their utterances, men protest their sincerity, as\nparties indicted for murder do their innocence. We can set but small\nstore by such protestations. It is a question of evidence to come from\nother sources than from the accused person's own mouth. A man indeed\nmust be held to be sincere until he is proved to be the contrary. That\nis the general rule. But there are what Roman lawyers call\n_pr\u00e6sumptiones juris_; circumstances which, if proved, will induce the\ncourt to take a certain view of a case, and give judgment accordingly,\nunless by further evidence that view is proved to be a false one. Now\nwhen a man proclaims some blatant and atrocious error in a matter\nbearing directly upon public morals--and it is for the restraint of\nthese errors alone that we are arguing--there is a decided _pr\u00e6sumptio\njuris_, that the error in him, however doggedly he maintains it, is\nnot a sincere, candid, and innocently formed conviction. The light of\nnature is not so feeble as that, among civilized men. Let the offender\nbe admonished and given time to think: but if, for all warning to the\ncontrary, the wilful man will have his way, and still propagate his\nerror to the confusion of society, he must be treated like any other\nvirtuous and well-meaning criminal: he must be restrained and coerced\nto the extent that the interests of society require.\n\n9. At the same time it must be confessed that when an error, however\nflagrant and pestilential, has ceased to shock and scandalize the\ngeneral body of the commonwealth; when the people listen to the\ndoctrine without indignation, and their worst sentence upon it\npronounces it merely \"queer,\" there is little hope of legal restraints\nthere enduring long or effecting much. Penalties for the expression of\nopinion are available only so far as they tally with the common\nfeeling of the country. When public opinion ceases to bear them out,\nit is better not to enforce them: for that were but to provoke\nresentment and make martyrs. No regulations can be maintained except\nin a congenial atmosphere. Allowance too must be made for the danger\nof driving the evil to burrow underground.\n\n10. The censorship of opinions even in a model State would vary in\nmethod according to men and times. The censorship of the Press in\nparticular might be either by _Imprimatur_ required before printing,\nor by liability to prosecution after. The _Imprimatur_ might be either\nfor all books, or only for a certain class. It might be either\nobligatory, or merely matter of counsel, to obtain it. We are not to\nadopt promiscuously all the praiseworthy institutions of our\nforefathers.\n\n_Readings_.--Cardinal Newman, _Letter to Duke of Norfolk_, \u00a7 5; _The\nMonth_ for June, 1883, pp. 200, seqq.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nAPPENDIX\n\n\nOf the precepts of Natural Law, some are more simple and of wider\nextension; others are derivative, complex, and extend to fewer cases.\nIt is a question of more and less, and no hard and fast line of\ndemarcation can be drawn between them. The former however are called\n_primary_, the latter _secondary_ precepts. Again, the nature of man\nis the same in all men and at all periods of history for its essential\nelements, but admits of wide, accidental variation and declension for\nthe worse. Thirdly, it is clear that Natural Law is a law good and\nsuitable for human nature to observe. Starting from these three\naxioms, we apply the reasoning of St. Thomas, 1a 2\u00e6, q. 96, art. 2,\nnot to human law alone, of which he is speaking, but to sundry\nsecondary precepts of Natural Law. These are his words:\n\n\"A law is laid down as a rule or measure of human acts. Now a measure\nought to be homogeneous with the thing measured. Hence laws also must\nbe imposed upon men according to their condition. As Isidore says: 'A\nlaw ought to be possible both according to nature and according to the\ncustom of the country.' Now the power or faculty of action proceeds\nfrom interior habit or disposition. The same thing is not possible to\nhim who has no habit of virtue, that is possible to a virtuous man; as\nthe same thing is not possible to a boy and to a grown man, and\ntherefore the same rule is not laid down for children as for adults.\nMany things are allowed to children, that in adults are visited with\nlegal punishment or with blame, and in like manner many things must be\nallowed to men not perfect in virtue, which would be intolerable in\nvirtuous men.\"\n\nThis reasoning leads us up to a conclusion, which St. Thomas states\nthus (la 2\u00e6, q. 94. art. 5):\n\n\"A conceivable way in which the Natural Law might be changed is the\nway of subtraction, that something should cease to be of the Natural\nLaw that was of it before. Understanding change in this sense, the\nNatural Law is absolutely immutable in its first principles; but as to\nsecondary precepts, which are certain detailed conclusions closely\nrelated to the first principles, the Natural Law is not so changed as\nthat its dictate is not right in most cases steadily to abide by; it\nmay however be changed in some particular case, and in rare instances,\nthrough some special causes impeding the observance of these secondary\nprecepts.\"\n\nThe reason for this conclusion, more pregnant, it may be, than St.\nThomas himself discerned, is given briefly as follows (2a 2\u00e6, q. 57,\nart. 2, ad 1):\n\n\"Human nature is changeable; and therefore what is natural to man may\nsometimes fail to hold good.\"\n\nThe precepts of Natural Law that fail to be applicable when human\nnature sinks below par, are only secondary precepts, and few even of\nthem. Christianity brings human nature up to par, and _fulfils_ the\nNatural Law (St. Matt. v. 17), enjoining the observance of it in its\nintegrity. This is the meaning of St. John Chrysostom's saying: \"Of\nold not such an ample measure of virtue was proposed to us; ... but\nsince the coming of Christ the way has been made much narrower.\" (_De\nVirginitate_, c. 44: cf. his 17th Homily on St. Matt. v. 37; indeed\nthe doctrine is familiar in his pages.) Thus the prohibition of\npolygamy, being a secondary precept of the natural law, failed in its\napplication in that age of lapsed humanity, when a woman was better\none of many wives, protected by one husband, than exposed to\npromiscuous violence and lust. (Isaias iv. i.)\n\n\nNOTE ON ROUSSEAU.\n\n\nThe ruler is the servant of the _good_ of the people, not of the\n_will_ of the people, except inasmuch as--\n\na. the _will_ of the people is an indication of their _good_, of which\nthey are probable judges;\n\nb. it is usually impossible to do _good_ to the people against their\nsteady _will_.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nINDEX\n\n\nAggregation theory of civil power,\n\nAltruism,\n\nAltum dominium,\n\nAnger,\n  differs from hatred,\n\nAppetite in the modern sense,\n  in the scholastic sense,\n  appetite and desire,\n\nArchetype Ideas,\n\nAristotle, imperfect as a moral philosopher,\n  on happiness,\n  on the passions,\n  on the mean of virtue,\n  on death,\n  his Magnanimous Man,\n  distinguishes chastisement from vengeance,\n  virtue from art,\n  on property,\n  defines a State, a citizen, a polity,\n  on the State's need to punish,\n\nAtheism, effects of social and political,\n\nAutocentric and heterocentric,\n\nBain, Alexander, on content,\n  on punishability,\n\nBeatific vision,\n\nCapital Punishment,\n  not inconsistent with God's dominion over life, nor\n  with the personality (autocentric) of man,\n  power of (right of the sword), the distinguishing mark of sovereignty,\n  sole instance of rightful direct killing,\n\nCharity,\n  to enemies,\n  obligation of, how differing from justice,\n\nChurch and State, elementary philosophy of,\n\nCircumstances of act,\n  distinguished from means,\n\nCivil authority, of God,\n  binds the conscience,\n  latent or free,\n  various distributions of,\n  not tied to any one polity,\n  when rightfully resisted,\n\nComfort, no specific against crime,\n\nCommunism,\n\nConscience, natural law of,\n  defined,\n  erroneous conscience,\n  requires educating,\n  Conscience and the State,\n\nContemplation, essence of happiness,\n\nContracts,\n\nDelight, or pleasure, quality of,\n  said to perfect activity,\n  not happiness,\n\nDemocracy, may be tyrannical,\n  not the sole valid polity,\n  sheer democracy difficult to work,\n  original and special sanctity attaching to democracy,\n\nDeontology,\n\nDesire, physical and psychical,\n\nDirect and indirect (or incidental) defined,\n\nDivorce,\n\nDuelling, essential wrong of,\n\nDumb animals, our relations with,\n\nDuty, matter not of mere goodness, but of law;\n  duties of justice, correlative of a right;\n  duties negative and positive,\n\nEducation, the State's part in,\n\nEnd in view; end does not justify means;\n  itself limitless, sets a limit to the means,\n\nEnglish monarchy,\n\nEthics, strict view of,\n\nEvil, none essential and positive in human nature,\n\nFear, as an excuse,\n\nFood and fiddling, when better than philosophy,\n\nFortitude,\n\nFrancis of Assisi, St.,\n\nGeneral Consequences, principle of,\n\nGod, transcends created being,\n  object of human happiness,\n  God and possibilities,\n  cannot but enforce morality,\n  how entering into Moral Philosophy,\n  does not dispense from the natural law,\n  punishes sin,\n  twofold worship of,\n  God beyond the sphere of utilities,\n  duty of knowing Him,\n  why He cannot lie,\n  no God, no sin,\n\nGreek taste,\n\nGrotius and Milton, on lying,\n\nHabit, defined,\n  acquired by acts,\n  a living thing, needs exercise,\n  habit and custom,\n  man a creature of habits,\n  habits remain in the departed soul,\n\nHappiness, defined,\n  open to man,\n  final in contemplation of God,\n  other than contentment,\n  desired without limit,\n  not pleasure,\n\nHatred and anger,\n\nHedonism,\n\nHobbes, his _Leviathan_,\n\nHonour and reputation,\n\nHorace, his phrase, _aurea mediocritas_,\n\nHuman act,\n  outward and inward, one,\n\nHumility,\n\nHypnotism,\n\nIgnorance, as an excuse,\n\nIntegrity, state of,\n\nIntellectual error, sometimes voluntary,\n  in that case not mere intellectual error,\n\nJurisdiction, differs from dominion,\n\nJustice, always relative to another,\n  legal (or general),distributive, commutative (corrective),\n  justice and charity differ,\n\nKant, his Categorical Imperative,\n\nKilling, direct and indirect,\n  indirect in self-defence,\n  and in war,\n  direct only in capital punishment,\n\nKnowledge of God, obligatory,\n\nLabour, qualitative as well as quantitative,\n  capital not simply an embodiment of labour,\n\nLand, a raw material, nationalisation of,\n\nLaw, defined,\n  the Eternal Law,\n  irresistible and yet resisted,\n  extends to all agents, rational and irrational,\n  co-eternal with, yet not necessary as God,\n  laws of physical nature,\n  law of conscience,\n  fundamental laws of a state,\n  civil law, necessary complement of natural law,\n  civil law, how binding in conscience,\n  the King, _legibus solutus_, how far,\n  law and liberty,\n\nLay mind,\n\nLiberty, the meshes of the net of law,\n  liberty of opinion and the press,\n\nLocke, on the state of nature,\n\nLying, definition of,\n  intention to deceive, no part of the definition,\n  intrinsically and always wrong,\n  why God cannot lie,\n  not against commutative justice,\n  mental reservation not in every case a lie,\n\nMagnanimous man,\n\nMagnificence,\n\nMarriage, duty of the race, not of the individual,\n  two goods of marriage,\n  unity,\n  indissolubility,\n\nMaterial and formal,\n\nMarx, Karl,\n\nMeans to end, truly willed,\n  four sorts of,\n  how far and how not sanctified by the end,\n  distinguished from circumstances,\n  limited by the end,\n\nMeekness and clemency,\n\nMental reservation, not in every case a lie,\n\nMill, John, confounds self-defence with vengeance,\n  his Utilitarianism,\n  on Liberty,\n\nModesty,\n\nMorality, meaning of,\n  determinants of,\n\nMoral Philosophy, definition and division,\n  a progressive science,\n  subtlety of,\n\nMoral Sense, no peculiar faculty distinct from Intellect,\n\nMoney, ancient and modern use of,\n\nNature, does nothing in vain,\n  living according to nature,\n  laws of nature, inviolable as tendencies,\n  state of nature,\n\nNatural, in contrast with supernatural,\n  natural and physical confounded by ancients,\n  does not mean \"coming natural\",\n\nNatural law of conscience,\n  mutable subjectively,\n  immutable, situation remaining unchanged,\n  primary and secondary precepts, some of the latter fail to\n         hold even objectively, where human nature has sunk below par,\n    (notwithstanding),\n  not open to dispensation,\n\nNominalism, subversion of philosophy,\n\nObedience, not wholly of the nature of a contract,\n\nOught, or Obligation, analysis of the idea,\n\nPassion, as an excuse,\n  definition of,\n  species of,\n  not to be extirpated,\n  never morally evil by itself,\n  passion and principle, two different sources of sin,\n\nPeople, the, all government for,\n  sovereignty of,\n  not philosophers,\n\nPerson, autocentric, as distinguished from a thing (hetero-centric),\n  to have a right, you must be a person,\n\nPlato, on desires,\n  on the mean of virtue,\n  his similitude of the charioteer,\n  his phrase, \"set up on holy pedestal\",\n  fails to discover justice in his _Republic_,\n  his ignoring of spiritual sins,\n  ignores retributive punishment,\n  object of his _Republic_,\n\nPleasure, or delight, quality of,\n  perfects activity,\n  how far wrong to act or live for pleasure,\n  not happiness,\n\nPolity, defined,\n  variety of polities,\n  no one polity best, universal and exclusive,\n  elementary and original polity,\n  the polity the standard of the politically allowable,\n\nPolygamy; patriarchal practice,\n\nPowers that be, ordained of God,\n\nPrivate war, right renounced by civilised man,\n\nProbable opinion, what, how a lawful ground of action,\n\nProperty, _res familiaris_,\n\nPrudence,\n\nPunishment, naturally consequent upon sin,\n  also a divine infliction,\n  final, eternal,\n  medicinal, deterrent, retributive,\n  human punishment perhaps never purely retributive,\n  capital punishment,\n  punishment a stimulus to conscience,\n  war not punishment,\n\nPyramid of capacities,\n\nReiffenstuel, on duelling,\n\nReligion, how connected with morality,\n  duties of religion,\n  natural religious power,\n  the State and religion,\n\nRestitution, when due,\n  not retribution,\n\nResurrection,\n\nRevolution, is it ever right?\n\nRight, a, defined,\n  connatural, acquired, alienable, inalienable,\n  one man's right imports another man's duty, but not conversely,\n  not all rights consequences of duties,\n  not wholly the creation of the State,\n\nRitual, needs regulation,\n\nRousseau, his Social Contract,\n  his inalienable sovereignty of the people,\n\nSecrets,\n\nSelf-defence, differs from punishment and from vengeance,\n  a wrong maxim of the jurists,\n  duelling not self-defence,\n\nSimulation and dissimulation,\n\nSin, material and formal,\n  differs from vice,\n  some by mere passion, other on principle,\n  spiritual sins,\n  philosophical sin,\n  sin alone properly unnatural,\n  entails punishment,\n  grave and light,\n  forgiveness of, an uncertainty in philosophy,\n  sin against God, crime against the State,\n  atheism the abolition of sin,\n\nSocialism, Collectivism and Syndicalism,\n  an endeavour to supersede private virtue,\n\nSoldier's death,\n\nSpiritualism,\n\nState, individual not all blended in,\n  definition of,\n  a natural requisite, more than a necessity of nature,\n  involves authority, to be obeyed,\n  a perfect community,\n  commanded and commissioned by God,\n  a secular concern with a secular end,\n  the State and virtue,\n  State and Church,\n  State and education,\n  doctrines dangerous to the State,\n  State and Conscience,\n  remotely a judge of sin, but does not punish it as such,\n\nStoics, would extirpate passion,\n  their _naturae convenienter vivere_,\n  a paradox of theirs,\n\nSuarez, explains the natural rise of civil authority,\n  neglects the historical,\n\nSuicide,\n\nSupernatural,\n\nSuperstitious practices,\n\nSynderesis,\n\nTemperance,\n\nTestamentary right,\n\nUsury, defined,\n  principle upon which it is wrong,\n  commercial loans not usurious, gradual opening for such,\n\nUtilitarianism, an ill-concerted blend of Hedonism and Altruism,\n\nValue, use value, market value,\n\nVice and Virtue, habits, not acts,\n  not in children,\n  vice not sin,\n\nVirtue, a habit,\n  not reducible to knowledge,\n  intellectual and moral,\n  how moral and intellectual virtues differ,\n  need of moral virtue,\n  moral virtue (not theological) observes the mean,\n  cardinal virtues,\n  are the virtues separable?,\n  potential parts of a virtue,\n  sense of virtue necessary to national greatness,\n  virtue not \"another man's good,\",\n  how differing from art,\n  how far the care of the State,\n\nVirtuous man, acts on motives of virtue,\n\nWar, the self-defence of nations,\n  not a punitive operation,\n  direct and proper object, not to kill but to put out of action,\n\nWild boy of Hanover,\n\nWorship, interior and exterior, reasons for the latter,\n  not as useful to God, but because He is worthy of it,","title":"Moral Philosophy: Ethics, Deontology and Natural Law","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":105792}