{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_The_Religious_Aspect_of_Philosophy_Chapter_4/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_The_Religious_Aspect_of_Philosophy_Chapter_4","id":"wikisource_The_Religious_Aspect_of_Philosophy_Chapter_4","license":"Public Domain / CC-BY-SA (see source)","rights_basis":"wikisource_site_inclusion_policy","source":"wikisource","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Religious_Aspect_of_Philosophy/Chapter_4","summary":null,"tags":["Headers_applying_DefaultSort_key","Subpages"],"text":"CHAPTER IV.\n\nALTRUISM AND EGOISM IN CERTAIN RECENT DISCUSSIONS.\n\nBut if the light that is in thee be darkness, how great is that darkness!\n\nNot even yet have we exhausted the perplexities\ninvolved in this fundamental difficulty of moral\ntheory. Some one may say: \u201cLet the ideals in\ngeneral take care of themselves. We are concerned\nin this world with individual and concrete duties.\nThese at least are plain.\u201d But these also involve\nquestions concerning the ideal. Let us see then how\nthe same difficulty that has beset the more general\nmoral doctrines, returns to plague us in case of the\ntheoretical treatment of one of these plain duties.\nOur discussion will here gain in definiteness what it\nloses in generality. Let us choose a concrete moral\nquestion, namely, the problem of the true ground of\nthe moral distinctions and other moral relations\nbetween what people nowadays like to call altruism\nand what they like to call egoism.\n\nUpon what, then, if upon anything, is founded the\nmoral precept: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself?\nOr is there any foundation for it at all? To\nbe quite familiar in discussing this problem, let us\ntake it as it appears in recent discussion. The answers of some recent moralists will illustrate for\nus afresh the great problem of ethics. We shall find\ntwo classes of efforts made to solve the difficulty. On\nthe one hand moralists appear whose tendency is\nmainly, although not always quite wholly realistic.\nThey say that, assuming the selfish aim as from the\nbeginning self-evident, the unselfish aim soon appears\nas a necessary concomitant and assistant of the\nselfish aim. Such writers, from Hobbes to the present\nday, have insisted upon unselfishness as a more or\nless refined selfishness, the product of enlightenment.\nTo this view one opposes very naturally the\nobjection that real unselfishness is thus in fact rendered\nimpossible. The moral ideal resulting is therefore,\nwhether right or wrong in itself, at all events at war\nwith other well-known ideals. And hence the\nexplanation satisfies nobody. One still lacks a judge to\nend the warfare.\n\nOn the other hand, however, more idealistic\nmoralists have tried to make unselfishness dependent on\nsome impulse, such as pity or sympathy, whose\ndictates shall be perfectly definite and self-evident, and\nyet not, like the supposed dictates of conscience,\neither abstract or mysterious. But to such a\nfoundation one opposes very naturally again the\nobjection that all such judgments of feeling are\ncapricious, that pity and sympathy are confused and\ndeceitful feelings, wholly unfit to give moral insight,\nand that no ideal can be founded on the shifting sand\nof such realities.\n\nThe results of such criticisms will once more be\nskeptical, but the skepticism on which we are here insisting is so necessary a foundation for ethics, that\nwe make no apology for dwelling upon it yet farther,\ndevoting to the special problems suggested by these\nrecent discussions of selfishness and unselfishness a\nseparate chapter.\n\nI.\n\nIn a collection of Servian popular tales may be\nfound one that runs somewhat as follows: Once there\nlived two brothers, of whom the elder was very\nincautious and wasteful, but always lucky, so that in\nspite of himself he grew constantly richer, while the\nyounger, although very industrious and careful, was\ninvariably unfortunate, so that at last he lost\neverything, and had to wander out into the wide world to\nbeg. The poor wretch, after much suffering, resolved\nto go to no less a person than Fate himself, and to\ninquire wherefore he had been thus tormented. Long\nand dreadful wildernesses were passed, and finally\nthe wanderer reached the gloomy house. Now\nvisitors at Fate\u2019s dwelling dare not begin to speak when\nthey come, but must wait until Fate shall address\nthem, and meanwhile must humbly do after Fate\nwhatever he does. So the wanderer had to live in\nthe house for several days, silent, and busily\nimitating Fate\u2019s behavior. He found that Fate lives not\nalways in the same way, but on some days enjoys\na golden bed, with a rich banquet and untold heaps\nof treasure scattered about; on some days again is\nsurrounded with silver, and eats dainty but\nsomewhat plainer food; on some days has brazen and\ncopper wealth only, with coarse food; and on some days, penniless and ragged, sleeps on the floor, digs the ground, and gnaws a crust. Each night he is asked by a supernatural voice: \"How shall those live who have this day been born?\" Fate always replies: \"As I have fared this day, so may they fare.\"\n\nThus our beggar found the secret of his own misfortunes; for he had been born on a day of poverty. But when at last Fate broke the silence, the visitor begged him to tell whether there could be any way whereby he might escape from the consequences of his unlucky birth. \"I will tell thee,\" said Fate. \"Get thee home again, and ask thy brother to let thee adopt his little daughter. For she was born on one of the golden days. Adopting her, thou shalt thenceforth call whatever thou receivest her own. But never call anything thine. And so shalt thou be rich.\" The beggar joyfully left Fate's dreary house, with its sad round of days, and went back to the world of labor and hope. There, by following the advice that he had received, he became in fact very wealthy; since all that he undertook prospered. But the wealth was his adopted daughter's. For always he called his gains hers. One day he grew however very weary of this, and said to himself: \"These fields and flocks and houses and treasures are not really hers. In truth I have earned them. They are mine.\" No sooner had he spoken the fatal words than lightning fell from heaven and began to burn his grain-fields, and the floods rose to drown his flocks. So that terror-stricken the wretch fell on his face and cried: \"Nay, nay, O Fate, I spoke no truth; they are not mine, but hers, hers alone.\u201d And thereupon\nflame and flood vanished, and the man dwelt\nthenceforth in peace and plenty.\n\nII.\n\nThe really deep thought that imperfectly expresses\nitself in this little Servian tale may suggest many\nsorts of reflections. Just now we shall busy\nourselves with only one of the questions that are brought\nto mind by the story. Many who nowadays have\nmuch to say about what they call altruism, actually\nexplain all altruism as a kind of selfish evasion of\nthe consequences of cruder selfishness, so that at\nbottom they really counsel men much as Fate\ncounseled the wanderer. They say in effect: \u201cTo make\nthyself happy, do certain things called duties to thy\nneighbor. That we call altruism. Thou shalt have\nthy reward. For what is more useful to a man than\na man? If therefore thou dost well to him, thou\nshalt make him in many ways of great service to\nthee. And so, to get happiness for thyself, see that\nthou be not openly merely a seeker of thy\nhappiness; but call that which thou seekest his happiness.\nCalling it his will help to make it thine. Be selfish\nby casting aside grosser selfishness. Live for the\nothers as the means of living for thyself. In\nco\u00f6peration is safety. Act therefore as a good\nmember of the community, and thou shalt prosper. But\nsuch action requires altruism. As the man gave his\nwealth to his adopted daughter, so that he might\nown it himself and outwit his destiny, so must thou make thy interests into the interests of society, and\nby so doing be true to thyself.\u201d But now such\naltruism, as one at once sees, has no right to parade\nitself as genuine altruism at all, and if it be the end\nof conduct, there is no moral conduct distinct from\ncleverness. But if this be true, it is at least\nincumbent upon the moralist to explain why the popular\nideal of unselfishness is thus so very far wrong.\n\nMore or less disguised, the doctrine here generally\nstated appears in modern discussion since Hobbes.\nLet us follow it into some of its hiding-places, and\nto that end let us distinguish selfishness and\nunselfishness as ideals or ends of conduct, from selfishness\nand unselfishness as means, accidentally useful to\nget an end.\n\nIII.\n\nAltruism is the name of a tendency. Of what\ntendency? Is it the result or the intent that makes\na deed altruistic? Was our hero an altruist when\nhe gave to his adopted daughter the name and the\nenjoyment of a possessor of wealth? Or would he\nhave needed in addition to all this a particular\ndisposition of mind ere he could be called an altruist?\n\nWe need not dispute about mere names as such.\nLet everybody apply the name Altruism as he will;\nbut possibly we shall do well to recall to the reader\u2019s\nmind what ought nowadays to be the merest\ncommonplace of ethics, namely, that we cannot regard\nany quality as moral or the reverse, in so far as the\nexpression of it is an external accident, with which\nthe man himself and his deliberate aim have nothing to do. Ethical judgments deal with purposes. On\nany theory of right and wrong the man himself, not\nthe accident of fortune, determines the moral\ncharacter of his act; and this view must be held equally\nwhether one believes the man\u2019s will to be free or to\nbe bound. Hence the unforeseen or unintended\noutcome, or any other accidental accompaniment of my\nact, does not make me egoistic or altruistic in case\negoism and altruism are to be qualities that have\nany moral character at all. If my property is accidentally\ndestroyed by fire, and if the loss causes great\ndamage to my creditors or to people dependent on\nme, the loss makes me no less or more an altruist,\nalthough I can no longer do good as before. If my\npurely selfish plan chances to do others good, I am\nno less an egoist, although I have made my fellows\nhappy. In short, he who means anything, and does\nwhat he can to realize his intention, must be judged\naccording to his intent. Circumstances control the\noutcome, and they make of the chance discoverer of\nthe first bit of gold in a California mill-race a\ngreater altruist, to judge solely by consequences,\nthan a hero would be who sacrificed himself in a good\ncause, and lost the battle. But no moral system\ncould make genuine saintliness out of the deed of\nthe man who by chance has found what the world\nneeded. And to take one more example, the power\ndie stets das B\u00f6se will, und stets das Gute schafft,\nis not altruistic in the moral sense, however vast its\ncreations may become.\n\nAll this we maintain, because, if you are morally\ncriticising a disposition, you must study what it is, not what are its accidental surroundings. Moral\ndistinctions must apply to aims as such. Unless\nyou are judging men exactly as you judge the north\nwind or the value of rain, not as consciously good or\nbad, but as mere forces that happen to produce such\nand such results under such and such conditions,\nyou must study, not first the accidental\ncircumstances, but the men. And in fact all moralists,\nhowever much they may condemn the weighing of\nmere motives, however much they desire to take just\nthe consequences into account, as Bentham did, are\nnevertheless forced to separate in their moral\njudgments accidental from expected consequences. We\nmaintain that this abstraction of a disposition from\nits accidental expressions must be rigidly carried\nout in order to get a moral doctrine of any\nsignificance. Let others study natural forces. We\nhere are studying men, and are considering what\nideal of a man we can form. Whatever the\naccidents of the outer world give him in the way of\nmeans, we want to know his real intent, and to judge\nthat. But if the intent of the man does alone make\nhim altruistic or the reverse, then what, for example,\nis the position, in ethical controversy, of any system\nthat declares altruism to be morally good because the\nindividual needs the social order to assist him, and\nmust therefore in all prudence try to further the\nsocial ends as a means to the furthering of his own?\nDoes such a system say anything whatever about\naltruism as such? Does it not make enlightened\negoism the one rule of life? And if this is what is\nmeant, why not say so plainly? If the intent of the act makes it altruistic or the reverse, then a man who helps his friend, or his neighbor, or society, and who is honest, and kind, and public-spirited solely because he wants to get protection and help in return, is no altruist, but is as egoistic as a Judas or as a Thomassen. He is only clearer-headed than they were. On the other hand, if by any possibility any one makes the good of others his sole end, and with this as end takes care of his own health, or develops his mental powers, or amasses wealth, but all merely for the sake of being able to benefit others, then is such a man not egoistic, even while working for himself, but altruistic throughout. For such a man by hypothesis aims, not at his own personal good, but solely at the good of others.\n\nAll this is consequent upon the general doctrine that the distinction between altruism and egoism, as moral qualities, must depend on no external accident, but on the personal deed of the man himself. For, to make special mention of what many forget, the means that you take to get any end are for you merely physical accidents. If things were otherwise, you would with the same intent do other things to get what you seek. Not what you have to do in getting your ends, but what you actually aimed at, is morally significant. Hence the altruism of consequences as such is morally insignificant, and the altruism of intent is alone morally significant. But yet this obvious and seemingly very commonplace distinction is, by the views that we are combating, wholly lost sight of in its further application to human life. We may hear in modern controversy, for instance, of a \u201cconflict between altruism and\negoism,\u201d such as the one that Mr. Spencer discusses\nin his \u201cData of Ethics,\u201d and we may draw near to\nlearn how the conflict goes. We shall possibly find\nthe question put thus: If a man in trying to be\naltruistic were so far to forget himself as to injure\nhis health, or to become so weak as to have no\nhealthy children; if he were to be careless of his\nproperty, to let his mind go untrained, or to narrow\nhis own life too much, why then his own objects\nwould be defeated, he would be unable to help anybody,\nhe might do harm, and he could be no genuine\naltruist. Therefore altruism must not oppose\negoism too much, else altruism will defeat itself. On\nthe other hand, we hear, if egoism is extravagant, it\nwill in its turn fail to get its own great end,\nself-satisfaction. For it is useful to one to have his\nfellow-members in the social organism well-contented,\nefficient, and moral. One must try to make them so,\nthat he himself may enjoy the fruits of their\nhappiness. He pays more taxes, and also higher prices\nfor what he buys, if the community as a whole is\nnot contented and happy, as well as healthy and\nmoral. Enlightened selfishness therefore means for\nhim public spirit. His neighbor\u2019s diseases are apt\nto infect his own family; hence, if enlightened, he\nwill do what he conveniently can to keep his\nneighbor well. His neighbor\u2019s peace of mind tends to\nmake his own mind peaceful, hence he will help his\nneighbor out of trouble. Otherwise he would have\nto live in anxiety, loneliness, weakness, and danger.\nHis life would be hard, and probably his death would be early. So egoism must not be too extravagant.\nAltruism is \u201cequally imperative.\u201d Thus, perhaps,\nwe should hear the so-called \u201cconflict\u201d discussed.\nIf such views were urged, what should we say about\nthem? We should have to say that they touch in\nno wise at all the true moral distinction and warfare\nbetween selfishness and altruism. They show only\nthat, whatever the opposition in aim, the two\nprinciples have after all, in this world of limitation, to\nuse very much the same means. Surely it is no\nnew thing to learn that in warfare both parties have\nto burn the same quality of gunpowder, and that\neven the cats when they fight all have to scratch\nwith claws that are very much alike. Do such\nremarks explain or tend to diminish or to end the\nconflicts in question?\n\nHow insignificant is this way of studying the\nconflict of egoism and altruism, we shall see if we take\nyet other illustrations. In the sense of the\nforegoing comparison of egoism and altruism, even a\npirate, in his treatment of merchant vessels, would\nhave to be moderately altruistic; namely, he had\nbetter not try to do harm to a merchant vessel that\nis too well armed for his force to overcome it. On\nthe contrary, his egoism will in this case counsel him\nunselfishly to let it prosper in its own way. Nay,\nhe may even try to speed it on its course, if it\nappears disposed to change roles and to attack him.\nHe may say that in just this case he thinks that this\nmerchantman ought to have peace, and to be\npreserved from injury. The other alternative would\njust here increase his own bill for repairs, or might make his own existence less happy, or might even\nbring him to the gallows. The happiness of the\ncrew of the merchantman is therefore just now an\nobject of concern for him, as perhaps furthering his\nown. So he may be willing to compromise the\ndifficulty, even if it should cost him a large sum to\npersuade the belligerent captain of the armed\nmerchantman to let him alone. Thus he might even add\nquite a fortune to what the merchantman\u2019s captain\nand crew already have of good things, and this\nwould surely be very marked altruism. Thus\negoism and altruism may oppose each other, and thus,\nby careful calculation, their opposing claims may be\nbalanced! Or yet again, suppose that a robber\nmeets me in the highway, and egoistically demands\nmy purse. If now I should manage to disarm him,\nto present a pistol to his head, and to ask him to\naccompany me to the nearest town, evidently the\nclaims of altruism would for that man have a considerably\nstronger emphasis than they had the moment\nbefore. He would now be willing not merely to\nlive and let live in peace for the present; he would\nnot merely be delighted to recognize my rights of\nproperty and to leave me free to enjoy them; but he\nwould undoubtedly be glad to increase my happiness\nby giving me anything of value that he might have\nabout him, or any information of value to me that I\nmight desire, if by such means he could get me to\nlet him go free. A great altruist would my robber\nnow be, however great his egoism just before.\n\nNow do such discussions of the claims of egoism\nand altruism mean anything for the moralist? But if somebody tells us of the altruism that leads a man\nto advocate good drainage lest he himself may have\na fever, of the altruism that pays one\u2019s debts to the\nsole end that one may get further credit, of the\nsublime unselfishness that makes a man civil even to\nhis rivals, because civility in these days is a social\nrequirement, \u2014 what have all these wondrous virtues\nto do in constituting the moral value of altruism as\na disposition, more than have the virtues just\nillustrated? We have two dispositions in us: one\nordering us to respect our neighbor as such, to labor in\nhis behalf because he exists and needs help; the\nother demanding that we regard him as a mere\ninstrument for our personal pleasure. Only the\ndispositions as such concern the moralist. Surely in\nfundamental ethics we are discussing what we ought\nto aim at, not how we can get our aims, so long at\nleast as we confine ourselves to the general\nprinciples. Applied morality may have much to say of\nmeans. But of principles, this balancing of means\ncan tell us nothing. The means are the physical\naccidents, nothing more. What we want to know is\nwhether egoism as an aim is morally the worthiest\naim, or whether altruism is a morally better aim.\nAnd we ask not yet how, if one\u2019s aim is egoistic, he\ncan most successfully be selfish, but only whether\none\u2019s aim ought to be selfish, and in how far. To tell\nus that if we are sensible and selfish we shall avoid\nhaving too much trouble with our fellows, is not to tell\nus that our aims ought to be altruistic, but only that\nsensible selfish men are not fools. To tell us that\nif we are wise and altruistic we shall avoid wasting our own powers profitlessly, and shall try to preserve\nour own health, and to cultivate our own wits in\nuseful ways, all this is to tell us that unselfish wise men\nare not fanatics. It may be useful to say this, but\nit is not useful to the discussion of fundamental\nmoral doctrines. We want to know, for the first,\nnot how successfully to be altruistic, or selfish, but\nwhy the effort to be altruistic or to be selfish is\nmorally right or wrong.\n\nIV.\n\nIf now such comparisons of the claims of\naltruism and egoism throw no light on the fundamental\nmoral questions, what shall we say of the chance that\nthe \u201cconflict\u201d may be explained or diminished by\nany proof that the evolution of our race will tend in\ntime to diminish, or even to extinguish, the opposition?\nIf some one shows us that by and by the most\nselfish being in the social order will find it his own\nbliss to give as much bliss as he can to everybody\nelse, so that men shall all be even as the people at a\nsuccessful party, getting pleasure as freely as they\ngive it, and giving it because they get it: and if\nsuch predictions seem to anybody to help us to know\nwhat duty is, then what can we say in reply, save to\nwonder at the insight that sees the connection\nbetween all these facts and our present duty? If a\nsociety ever does grow up in which there are no\nmoral conflicts, nothing but a tedious cooing of bliss\nfrom everybody, then in that society there will be\nno moral questions asked. But none the less we\nask such. If the people of that day no longer distinguish egoism from altruism, they may all be\nblessed: but what is that to us? We ask, What\nought we to do? We learn in answer that the\npeople of the future will feel no need to ask that\nquestion. We desire that duty be defined. We learn\nin answer that if men ever get perfect, the sense of\nobligation will vanish, so that nobody will question:\nWhat is duty? at all. This may be magnificent, but\nit is not ethics.\n\nFor what do we really learn by hearing about the\nsociety of the future? Only that, in the time\ncoming, there will be such and such freedom from moral\nproblems? Do we then also learn that we ought\nto do our best to bring about that reign of peace?\nNot at all, for we are sure that we shall never live\nto see that day; and we cannot know why we should\nwork for it so long as we are still in doubt about the\nvalue of selfishness. Do we learn that we ought to\nconform as nearly as is possible to the rules that will\ngovern men in that ideal state? But how then do\nwe learn that? Is it because the coming form of\nconduct will be the \u201chighest form of adjustment of\nacts to ends,\u201d as the modern apostles of evolution\nteach that it will be? Nay, though we do accept\nmost confidently all that these apostles teach about\nthe future, since surely they must know about it, we\nstill miss anything of moral significance in these\nphysical facts. For why is this coming state the\nhighest? Does any one say: Because it will come at the end of the physical process of evolution?\nNay then, if every more advanced state is to be more\nacceptable, by such reasoning the sprouting potato or the incubating egg would always be more acceptable\nthan the fresh potato or the fresh egg. Highest,\nas last, or as most complex, or even as most permanent,\ncannot be in meaning identical with the\nmorally highest that we want defined for us. We ought\nto work for the realization of that far-off state, if at\nall, then, because we see it to be, not merely the last\nin point of time, but also actually the best, and that\nfor some other reason than this physical one. But\nonce more then, why is it best? And why ought we\nto try to realize it? Because in that state, every individual will be happiest? But then we want to\nknow what we now are to do, and we see that this\nfuture happiness will be at present for us unattainable.\nIf we were in that state we should be happy.\nBut it is not at all plain that, by trying to approach\nit, we shall now be making ourselves any happier.\nAnd why should we do anything unselfish?\n\nEvolution then, as a mere prospect, throws no\nlight on the real and fundamental meaning of duty.\nIf we know what we are to try to do, then we can\njudge whether we ought to help or to hinder\nevolution as a means to that end. But unless we know\nour duty otherwise, there is nothing in the mere\nphysical fact of evolution that indicates what is\nmorally higher or lower, better or worse. Why should\nI work for future ages, if it is not already quite\nplain, apart from any knowledge of evolution, that I\nought to do what I can just now for my brother\nhere?\n\nAfter all, however, it is another aspect of evolution\nupon which nowadays most stress is laid in ethics. It is said that, the future aside, evolution\nhas made us what we now are, and, in particular, has\nformed our society, and us for society. Hence not\nonly is our welfare in fact best served by a wise\naltruism, but this fact is plain to us in our very\norganization and instincts. Therefore while throughout\nour aim is our happiness, our nature has been so\norganized by generations of social evolution as to make\npretty certain that our happiness is already\ndependent on our good character as social beings.\nTherefore the doctrine of evolution shows that selfishness\nmust itself become even in our day altruistic if it\nwould be successful.\n\nIs this aspect of evolution any more ethical than\nthe other? That is, does it show us, not the means,\nbut the moral End? We must deny that it does. To\nbe sure, if we never actually felt any conflict between\negoism and altruism as dispositions, then indeed for\nus just that ethical problem would not exist. But\nwe do feel a conflict. And since for us our\nselfishness is not altruistic in aim, it is quite useless to try\nto make the warring impulses one by declaring that\na perfectly enlightened selfishness, even in our own\nsociety, would be altruistic, not indeed in aim, but in\nconsequences. For, in the first place, that would\nactually be a false statement for our present social\ncondition; since it is still quite possible for a clever\nselfish man to live very comfortably, by somehow\nlegally wronging and oppressing others. And, in the\nsecond place, if the statement were true, it would be\nethically worthless. For if good treatment of others\nis uniformly the behavior that is, selfishly viewed, the most advantageous, the man who acts upon that\nprinciple is still selfish, not altruistic at all, and he has\nnot solved for himself the conflict between the two\nprinciples, save by utterly disregarding the principle\nof altruism. If altruism were the only goodness,\nthen altruism of aim would be goodness still,\nwhatever the selfish consequences. If altruism needs to\nbe limited in any way by selfishness, then the\nlimitation must still be a matter of aim, not of accidental\nresult. Altruism as a means to selfish ends would\nhowever be no aim at all, but only an accidental\ntool. If circumstances varied, it would be cast\naside, while the selfish aim itself remained constant.\n\nJ. S. Mill, following others, tried to distinguish\nthe motive from the intent of an act. According to\nthis distinction, a selfish act would be altruistic by\nintent, if there was in it the deliberate purpose to make\nsomebody happy, however selfish the motive of the\nact. So it would be altruism to be deliberately and\nselfishly just. But this distinction, however useful\nfor some purposes, is for our purpose worthless.\nThe question is: What in the act belongs to the\nman, and what is this part of the act worth? Now\nwhatever belongs not to the actor, but to the\nconditions under which he works, is morally\ninsignificant. For it is what we have called the physical\naccident of his surroundings. But intent, apart\nfrom motive, seems to be just such a physical\naccident; for intent, apart from motive, must relate, not\nto the real aim as such, but only to the means. A\nman aims to be selfish. If now he lives where his\nselfishness requires him to feed and clothe his enemy, he will, if enlightened, do so, and deliberately too.\nAnd he will show in the act just as much and just as\nlittle charity as he would have shown had he lived\nwhere selfishness was best served by killing his\nenemy, and had he killed him. The intent, apart\nfrom the motive of the man, can have reference only\nto the means by which he seeks to get his ultimate\naim. And such intent relates to accidental matters.\nIf by a physical accident the selfish man grows up\nwhere you must speak politely to your antagonist,\nand treat him with great show of respect, then the\nselfish man will deliberately, and with conscious\nintent, do so; and if he grows up where you challenge\nyour antagonist to a duel, he will possibly try that\nway of getting rid of an enemy; and if he lives\namong the cannibals, the selfish man, no more or\nless selfish than in the other cases, only by training\nmore brutal in tastes, will torture and eat his\nantagonist. And if the doctrine of evolution shows that\none of these forms of \u201cadaptation\u201d is more complete\nthan another, or proves to us that we personally shall\nbe most prudent in adopting one only of the possible\ncourses, all this can in no wise tell us what aim in\nconduct is morally best, but only what means most\nexhaustively accomplish the selfish purposes of a\ncivilized man. So intent is morally valuable only\nin connection with motive.\n\nIt is hardly worth while to dwell longer on the\ncurious devices by which certain defenders of the\napplication of the hypothesis of evolution to\nquestions of fundamental ethics have tried to establish\nthat the truths of evolution teach us that we ought to do right. The whole undertaking resembles that\nof a man who should try to show us that the truth\nof the law of gravitation clearly indicates that we\nall ought to sit down. What is evident or doubtful\napart from the law of evolution, cannot, in this field,\nbe proved or disproved by the law. Shall we say:\n\u201cDo good to thy neighbor to-day, because evolution\ntends to bring into existence a race of future beings\nwho will do good?\u201d To say this is to say something\nutterly irrelevant. What do we care about remote\nposterity, unless we already care about our neighbors\nas they are? Or shall we say: \u201cDo good to\nthy neighbor because evolution has made thee a\nsocial being, whose instincts lead thee to desire thy\nneighbor\u2019s good?\u201d To say this is to say what is\nonly very imperfectly true. One\u2019s instincts often\nlead him to take much selfish delight in thwarting\nhis neighbor. If it were true universally and\nstrictly, it would not show us why to do right, nor\nyet what is right. For it is not obviously a\nfundamental ethical doctrine that we ought to follow an\ninstinct as such. And if we follow an instinct\nbecause we find it pleasing, our aim is still not to do\nany right save what pleases us personally. And the\nwhole wisdom of the doctrine of evolution would be\nreduced to the assurance that we ought to do as we\nlike, with due regard to prudence. Shall we then\nsay: \u201cDo good, because the social order that has\nevolved is too strong for thee, and will hurt thee\nunless thou submittest to it?\u201d Still one has the\nselfish motive insisted upon, and morality is still\nonly prudence. And the doctrine will still have to admit that whenever one can outwit society\nprudently, and can gain for himself his selfish aims by\nanti-social but for him in this case safe means, then\nand there the selfish man may do this anti-social\nthing if he likes, the doctrine, with all its good\nmotives, being unable to show why not. For it will not\ndo to resort to some such subterfuge as this, and to\nsay: \u201cA man\u2019s advantage depends upon the\nprosperity of the whole. But anti-social acts ultimately\ntend to weaken society. Hence they ultimately tend\nto diminish the prosperity of the whole, and\ntherefore tend to harm the selfish individual.\u201d All this\nis irrelevant, in case the social consequences cannot\nreturn upon the selfish individual\u2019s head during his\nlifetime. The wasteful owners of great forests in\nour western mountains, the great and oppressive\ncapitalists that crush rivals and outwit the public,\nthe successful speculators, the national leaders whose\npossession of the biggest battalions enables them to\ndemand of weaker neighbors unjust sacrifices, all\nthese may listen in scorn to talk about their\nprosperity as dependent upon that of society, their enemies\nand victims included. \u201cWe eat the fruit,\u201d they can\nsay. \u201cTo be sure we consume it by eating, and we\nlike to waste it so long as we ourselves profit by the\nwaste, and we could neither eat it nor waste it if\nthere were no fruit; but there is enough to last us\nand our children for our lifetimes. After us the\nsocial famine, but for others, not for us.\u201d The now\nfamous reply ascribed to one of our great railroad\nkings when, some time since, he was asked about the\n\u201caccommodation of the public\u201d by a certain train, well illustrates our point. \u201cDamn the public,\u201d said\nthe great servant and master of the traveling world.\nIf he really did not say that, very likely there are\nthose who would have meant it. And may the\nevolutionist condemn them solely on his own grounds?\n\nOr finally, shall the doctrine retreat behind an\nancient maxim, and state itself thus: \u201cEvolution\nshows us what are the ultimate tendencies of acts;\nbut no act ought to be committed which belongs to\na class of acts whose general tendency is bad\u201d?\nWould not this be a lamentable surrender of the\nwhole position? Yet such a surrender is found in\none or two passages of the book that is nowadays\nsupposed best to represent the doctrine that we have\nbeen criticising in the foregoing, namely, in Mr.\nSpencer\u2019s \u201cData of Ethics.\u201d The physical facts of\nevolution are to give us our ideal. How? By telling\nus what in the long run, for the world at large,\nproduces happiness. But if my individual happiness in\nthe concrete case is hindered by what happens to be\nknown to help in the long run towards the production\nof general happiness, how shall the general rule\nbe applicable to my case? Mr. Spencer replies, in\neffect, that the concrete consequences for individuals\nmust not be judged, but only the general tendency\nof the act. Happiness is the ultimate end; but in\npractice the \u201cgeneral conditions of happiness\u201d must\nbe the proximate end. But how is this clear? If I\nknow in a given case what will make me happy, and\nif the means to my happiness are not the general\nones at all, but, in this concrete case, something\nconflicting therewith, why should I not do as I please? Because, Mr. Spencer says, the concrete case must\nbe tested by the general law of Evolution. But once\nmore, why? The only answer is the principle, which\nMr. Spencer sometimes tacitly assumes, sometimes\nvery grudgingly acknowledges, sometimes seems to\nclaim as his peculiar property, namely, the\nwell-known Kantian principle, that nothing should be\ndone which we could not wish to see done universally,\nor that the rule of the single act ought to he a rule\nadapted to serve as an universal rule for all\nrational beings. But if this maxim is essential to the\nfoundation of a moral system, then how poor the\npretense that the law of evolution gives us any\nfoundation for ethics at all. The facts of evolution\nstand there, mere dead realities, wholly without\nvalue as moral guides, until the individual assumes\nhis own moral principle, namely, his ideal determination\nto do nothing that a person considering the\norder of the world as a whole and desiring universal\nhappiness would condemn, from the point of view of\nthe general tendencies of acts. Grant that\nprinciple, and you have an ideal aim for action. Then\na knowledge of the course of evolution will be\nuseful, just as a knowledge of astronomy is useful to a\nnavigator. But astronomy does not tell us why we\nare to sail on the water, but only how to find our way.\nWith Kant\u2019s principle assumed, we already have\nattained, apart from any physical doctrine of evolution,\nthe essentials of an ethical doctrine to start with;\nand we need no doctrine of evolution to found this\nethical doctrine, but need it only to tell us the means.\nBut if we have not already this Kantian principle, then it is hard indeed to see what the doctrine of\nevolution can do to help us to get it. Mr. Spencer\nseems to forget that a doctrine of Means is not a\ndoctrine of Ends.\n\nIn sum then, either the fundamental moral\ndistinctions are clear apart from the physical fact of\nevolution, or the physical fact cannot illustrate for\nus the distinctions that we do not previously know.\nIf there is a real moral conflict between egoism and\naltruism, then this conflict must concern the aims of\nthese two dispositions, not the accidental outcome\nthat we reach, nor the more or less variable means\nthat we employ in following the dispositions. And\nany effort to reconcile the two tendencies by showing\nthat through evolution, or otherwise, it has become\nnecessary for an altruistic aim to be reached by\nseemingly selfish means, or for a selfish purpose to\nbe gained by seemingly altruistic devices, \u2014 any such\neffort has no significance for ethics. If the question\nwere: \u201cShall we buy mutton or beef at the market\nto-day?\u201d it would surely be a strange answer to the\nquestion, or \u201creconciliation\u201d of the alternatives, if\none replied, \u201cBut whichever you do you must go\nover the same road to get to the market.\u201d How\nthen are we helped by knowing that, in our society,\naltruism and egoism, these two so bitterly opposed\nmoral aims, have very often to hide their conflicts\nunder a use of very much the same outward show of\nsocial conformity.\n\nThere is indeed no doubt that all the knowledge\nwe may get about the facts of evolution will help us\nto judge of the means by which we can realize the moral ideals that we independently form. But the\nideals themselves we apply to the course of evolution\nas tests of its worth, or hold as aims to be realized\nthrough knowledge of nature. We do not get them\nfrom studying the course of nature as a mere\nprocess. There is no doubt of the reality and of the\nvast importance of the physical fact of evolution.\nIts ethical importance, however, has been, we hold,\nmisunderstood. Evolution is for ethics a doctrine\nnot of ends, but of the means that we can use. In\nfact, there is an applied ethic of evolution, but no\nfundamental ethical doctrine based upon evolution.\nThose who investigate evolution are doing much to\nfurther the realization of ethical ideals, but they\ncannot make or find for us our ethical ideals. They\nshow us where lies the path to an already desired\ngoal. For them to try to define the goal merely by\nmeans of their physical discoveries, is a great\nmistake. It can lead only to such labored efforts as we\nhave here been criticising, efforts to prove some\nsuch opinion as that altruism is a form of selfishness,\nor that selfishness is the only possible altruism.\nWhether we are just in fancying that these latter\nefforts are really identical with the actual efforts of\nany recent evolutionists, the reader must judge for\nhimself. Altruism we must, at all events, justify in\nanother way.\n\nV.\n\nBut now let us turn from those who define unselfishness\nas a useful means to a selfish end, and let us\nconsider the effort to make pure unselfishness a self-evident goal of conduct, by founding unselfishness\non the direct revelation of the emotion of Pity.\nHere, as before, we shall meet with the skeptical\ncriticism that the mere physical fact of the existence\nof certain conditions is no proof of the validity of an\nideal moral demand. Just as the physical fact that\na clever self-seeker must pretend to be unselfish, and\nmust outwardly produce effects that benefit others,\nis no foundation for a genuinely unselfish ideal,\njust so the presence of a pitiful impulse, a mere fact\nof human nature, is no foundation for an ideal rule\nof conduct. The feeling is capricious, just as the\nsocial conditions that render public spirit and\ngenerosity the best selfish policy are capricious. As\nthe selfish man would behave with open selfishness\nin case he were where unselfishness in outward\nconduct no longer was worth to him the trouble, even so\nthe pitiful man would, merely as pitiful, be cruelly\nselfish if cruel selfishness, instead of generous deeds,\ncould satisfy his impulse. In fact, he often is\ncruelly selfish; and if sympathy were always unselfish,\nstill, as a feeling, it is a mere accidental fact of\nhuman nature. So again, the effort to found a moral\nideal on a natural fact will fail. But let us look\ncloser.\n\nSchopenhauer is the best modern representative of the view that Pity or sympathetic emotion is the foundation of right conduct. In pity he finds the only unselfish principle in man, and he insists that pity is a tendency not reducible to any other more selfish emotion of our nature. He finds it necessary to refute as an error the oft repeated opinion that \u201cpity springs from a momentary illusion of\nimagination, so that we first put ourselves in the sufferer\u2019s\nplace, and now, in imagination, fancy that we suffer\nhis pangs in our person.\u201d This, replies\nSchopenhauer, is a blunder. \u201cIt remains to us all the time\nclear and immediately certain, that he is the\nsufferer, not we; and it is in his person, not in ours,\nthat we feel the pain, and are troubled. We suffer\nwith him, so in him; we feel his pain as his, and do\nnot fancy that it is ours; yes, the happier our own\nstate is, and the more the consciousness of it\ncontrasts in consequence with the situation of our\nneighbor, so much the more sensitive are we to pity.\u201d\nAnd of this wondrous feeling no complete psychological\nexplanation can be given; the true explanation,\nthinks Schopenhauer, must be metaphysical. In\npity a man comes to a sense of the real oneness in\nessence of himself and his neighbor.\n\nThis pity is, therefore, for Schopenhauer, the only\nmoral motive, first, because it is the only non-egoistic\nmotive, and secondly, because it is the expression\nof a higher insight. The first character of pity is\nillustrated by Schopenhauer in an ingenious passage,\nby means of a comparison of pity and other motives\nas exhibited in a supposed concrete instance. We\nshall find it well to quote the most of the passage in\nfull: \u2014\n\n\u201cI will take at pleasure a case as an example to furnish\nfor this investigation an experimentum crucis. To make\nthe matter the harder for me, I will take no case of\ncharity, but an injustice, and one, too, of the most flagrant\nsort. Suppose two young people, Caius and Titus, both passionately in love, and each with a different maiden. Let each one find in his way a rival, to whom external circumstances have given a very decided advantage. Both shall have made up their minds to put each his own rival out of the world; and both shall be secure against any discovery, or even suspicion. But when each for himself sets about the preparations for the murder, both of them, after some inner conflict, shall give up the attempt. They shall render account to us, plainly and truthfully, of why they have thus decided. Now what account Caius shall render, the reader shall decide as he pleases. Let Caius be prevented by religious scruples, by the will of God, by the future punishment, by the coming judgment, or by anything of that sort. Or let him [with Kant] say: 'I reflected that the maxim of my procedure in this case would not have been fit to serve as an universal rule for all possible rational beings, since I should have used my rival as means and not at the same time as End in himself.' Or let him say with Fichte: 'Every human life is Means or instrument for the realization of the Moral Law; therefore I cannot, without being indifferent to the moral law, destroy one who is destined to contribute to that end.' Or let him say, after Wollaston: 'I have considered that the deed would be the expression of an untrue proposition.' Or let him say, after Hutcheson: 'The moral sense, whose sensations, like those of every other sense, are not further to be explained, has determined me to refrain.' Or let him say, after Adam Smith: 'I foresaw that my deed, if I did it, would arouse no sympathy with me in the spectators of the act.' Or, after Christian Wolff: 'I recognized that I should thereby hinder my own growth towards perfection without helping the growth of anybody else.' Or let him say, after Spinoza: 'Homini nihil utilius homine; ergo, hominem interimere nolui.' In short, let him say what he will. But Titus, whose account of himself I reserve for my choice, let him say: \u2018When I began to prepare, and so for the moment was busy no longer with my passion, but with my rival, then it became for the first time quite clear to me what now was really to be his fate. But just here pity and compassion overcame me. I grieved for him; my heart would not be put down; I could not do it.\u2019 I ask now every honest and unprejudiced reader, which of the two is the better man? To which of the two would he rather intrust his fate? Which of them was restrained by the purer motive? Where, therefore, lies the principle of moral action?\u201d\n\nWhat shall we say of this foundation for altruism? Are pity and unselfishness thus shown to be, for the purposes of ethics, identical? Schopenhauer\u2019s suggestion seems attractive, but from the outset doubtful. Let us examine it more carefully.\n\nVI.\n\nThis Pity is, at all events, for the first just an impulse, no more; so at least, as we learn, it appears in the unreflective man. \u201cNature,\u201d Schopenhauer tells us, has \u201cplanted in the human heart that wondrous disposition through which the sorrows of one are felt by the other, and from which comes the voice that, according to the emergency, calls to one \u2018Spare,\u2019 to another, \u2018Help,\u2019 and calls urgently and with authority. Surely there was to be expected from the aid thus originating more for the prosperity of all than could have been expected from a strict maxim of duty, general, abstract, and deduced from certain rational considerations and logical combinations of ideas. For from the latter source one might the less expect success, because the mass of men must remain what they always have been, rude men, unable, by reason of their inevitable bodily tasks, to get time to cultivate their minds, and therefore, being rude men, must find general principles and abstract truths unintelligible, so that only the concrete has meaning for them. But for the arousing of this pity, which we have shown to be the only source of unselfish actions, and so the true basis of morality, one needs no abstract, but only perceptive knowledge (bedarf es keiner abstrakten, sondern nur der anschauenden Erkenntniss), only the mere understanding of the concrete case, to which pity at once lays claim, without further reflective mediation.\u201d And, to make his view clearer, Schopenhauer further appeals to passages quoted by him with approval from Rousseau: \u201cII est done bien certain, que la piti\u00e9 est un sentiment naturel, qui, mod\u00e9rant dans chaque individu I\u2019amour de soi-m\u00eame, concourt a la conservation mutuelle de toute I\u2019esp\u00e8ce. . . . C\u2019est, en un mot, dans ce sentiment naturel plut\u00f4t, que dans les argumens subtils, qu\u2019il faut chercher la cause de la r\u00e9pugnance qu\u2019\u00e9prouverait tout homme \u00e0 mal faire.\u201d Pity, then, is no abstract principle, but a tendency to do so and so in a concrete case. For the natural and unlearned man it is a mere sentiment, a feeling with his fellow, no more. But then does this sentiment exhaust for Schopenhauer\nthe whole meaning of pity? In no wise. Not\nfor this sole reason is pity the whole basis of morality,\nnamely, because it is the only non-egoistic impulse in\nus; but besides this reason, there is the second\nreason used by Schopenhauer to give special dignity to\npity. This other reason is in fact the deeper basis\nfor him of pity as the principle of conduct. Pity is\nnamely a revelation in concrete form of a great\nfundamental truth, the one above referred to, the great\nfact of the ultimate and metaphysical Oneness of all\nsentient beings. Because pity reveals this, therefore\nhas this sentiment an authority, a depth and a\nsignificance that a sentiment, merely as such, could\nnever have.\n\nAbout this aspect of the matter, Schopenhauer\ninstructs us more than once in his writings. A few\nquotations from one discussion will serve for present\nillustration.\n\n\u201cThe difference between my own and another\u2019s person seems for experience an absolute difference. The difference of space that separates me from my neighbor, separates me also from his joy and pain. But on the other hand, it must still be remarked, that the knowledge that we have of ourselves is no complete and clear knowledge.\u201d . . . \u201cWhereon is founded all variety and all multiplicity of beings? On space and time; through these alone is variety or multiplicity possible, since what is many can only be conceived as coexistent or as successive. Because the many like things are called individuals, I therefore call space and time, as making possible the existence of a multitude of individuals, the principium individuationis.\u201d . . . \u201cIf anything is undoubtedly true in the explanations that Kant\u2019s wonderful insight has given to the world, then surely it is the Transcendental \u00c6sthetics.\u201d . . . \u201cAccording to this doctrine, space and time . . . belong only to the phenomena. . . . But if the world in itself knows not space or time, then of necessity the world in itself knows nothing of multitude.\u201d . . . \u201cHence only one identical Being manifests itself in all the numberless phenomena of this world of sense. And conversely, what appears as a multitude, in space or in time, is not a real thing in itself, but only a phenomenon.\u201d . . . \u201cConsequently that view is not false that abolishes the distinction between Self and Not-self; rather is the opposed view the false one.\u201d . . . \u201cBut the former is the view that we have found as the real basis of the phenomenon of pity, so that in fact pity is the expression of it. This view then is the metaphysical basis of ethics, and consists in this: that one individual directly recognizes in another his own very self, his own true essence.\u201d\n\nThese passages from Schopenhauer are, as one sees, interesting not only because they defend the emotion of pity as the foundation of morals, but also because they offer an interesting suggestion of an aspect of the matter not before noticed in our study. Like so many of Schopenhauer\u2019s suggestions, this one is neither wholly original, nor very complete in itself. But it is so expressed as to attract attention; it is helpful to us by its very incompleteness. It is stimulating, although it proves nothing. This modern Buddhism brings to our minds the query (which goes beyond the present scope of this chapter), whether\nthe altruistic motives, whatever they are, might not\nsomehow be made of evident and general validity as\nethical principles, if we could show that in the\nmoment of pity or in some other altruistic moment\nthere is expressed the nascent discovery of an Illusion,\nnamely, the Illusion of Selfishness. That is\nwhat Schopenhauer supposed himself to have found\nout. In pity he found an unselfish impulse. But this\nunselfish impulse was, for the first, just an impulse,\na sentiment, beloved of Rousseau, remote from the\nabstract principles that the philosophers had been\nseeking. Here was unselfishness, but still seeming\nto need reflective development and deeper foundation.\nSchopenhauer thought that he had found such\na deeper basis for pity when he suggested that it was\nan imperfect metaphysical insight. In effect one\nmight sum up his views thus: In deeper truth, he\nsays, you and I are one Being, namely, the One great\nBeing, the Absolute Will, which works in us both.\nBut because we both perceive in time and space,\ntherefore you and I seem to ourselves to be different\nand perhaps warring individuals, like the two halves\nof a divided worm. Only the sentiment of pity sees\nthrough the temporal veil of illusion, and so seeing,\nin its own intuitive, unreflective way, it whispers to\nus that the pain of each is in truth the other\u2019s pain.\nAnd when we really feel thus, we forget the illusion\nof sense, and act as if we were one. So acting we\nfollow the higher insight, and when metaphysic comes,\nit will justify us in our view. Such, in our own\nwords, are Schopenhauer\u2019s ideas. We are still not concerned for Schopenhauer\u2019s\nmetaphysic, which, God knows, was a rotten enough\ntub for a wise man to go down to the sea in. But\nin his character as keeper of beautiful curiosities,\nSchopenhauer shows us in his literary museum, that\nis built on the dry land, many very useful thoughts;\nand we need not follow him out onto the great deep\nat present. But we note with interest this\nsuggestion that he adds to his theory of pity. Is that\nsuggestion worth anything? Is pity in fact a detection\nof an illusion? And does this illusion constitute the\nbasis of selfishness? Perhaps that suggestion will\nbe needed in a future chapter. Meanwhile,\nhowever, we have at present to do only with pity as a\nmere emotion. Surely if pity does discover for us\nany illusion in selfishness, then it must be a\nparticular form of pity to which this function belongs. For\nmuch of pity simply illustrates this illusion. We\ncannot then do better than first to distinguish the\nselfish from the altruistic forms of what we\npopularly include under the one name Pity, or, to use the\nmore general word, Sympathy. We shall have to go\nover old and commonplace ground, but we need to;\nfor the illusion of selfishness, to be detected, needs\nalso to be illustrated.\n\nVII.\n\nWhen one sees his neighbor in pain, does one of\nnecessity come to know that pain as such, to realize\nits true nature as it is in his neighbor? Or does\none often fall into an illusion about that pain, regarding it as somehow not quite real? Schopenhauer\nwould reply: The heartless man, who has no\ncompassion, falls into a sort of illusion about his neighbor.\nHe thinks more or less clearly that that pain of his\nneighbor\u2019s is a sort of unreal pain, not as living as\nwould be his own pain. But the pitiful man, the\nonly quite unselfish man, \u2014 he perceives the reality\nof his neighbor\u2019s suffering. He knows that that is\nno phantom suffering, but even such pain as his own\nwould be.\n\nWe want to test this idea in a practical way. So\nwe say: Let us judge of this sympathy by its fruits?\nAre we in fact certain to be led to unselfish acts\nif in all cases we obey the dictates of sympathy?\nSchopenhauer thinks that he has secured altruism\nfor his sympathetic or pitiful man by remarking that,\nin true pity, one feels the pain, not as his own, but\nas the other\u2019s pain. To follow the dictates of this\nsympathy would of necessity lead, one might say,\nto the effort unselfishly to relieve the other. But\nthen does not this depend very much upon the way\nin which pity comes to be an object of reflection for\nthe man that feels it? Pity is often of itself an\nindeterminate impulse, that may be capable of very\nvarious interpretation by the subsequent reflection\nof the pitiful mind. One may through pity come to\nreflect that this feeling stands for a real pain in the\nother man, and may act accordingly; or one may\nhave very different reflections. One may fail to\nrealize the other\u2019s pain as such, and may be driven\nback upon himself. For most people the first\nreflection that follows upon strong pity is no unselfish one at all. It is very simply the precept: \u201cGet rid\nof the pain that your neighbor causes you to feel.\u201d\nSympathy with pain may make you tremble, grow\nfaint, feel choked, weep; and all these sudden\nemotions are followed perhaps by long-enduring\nmelancholy. All this causes you to forget the reality of\nthe other\u2019s pain. This personal trouble of yours,\nfelt in stronger cases in your body as a physical\ndisturbance, as something unnerving, prostrating,\noverwhelming, turns your reflection upon yourself, and\nyou are very apt to ask; What am I to do to be free\nfrom it? So to ask is already to begin to forget\nyour neighbor. The pain that his pain caused has\nsimply become your pain. You are, even through\nyour pity, bound fast in an illusion. For there are\nthree ways of removing this pain, and of satisfying\nfor you the sympathy that caused it. One way, and\noften a very hard one, puzzling to follow, full of\nresponsibility and of blunders, would be taken if you\ndid your best, perseveringly and calmly, to get your\nneighbor out of his trouble. That would doubtless\ntake a long time, you would never be adequately\nthanked for your trouble, and you might very easily\nblunder and do harm instead of good to him, thus\ncausing in the end yet more sympathetic pain for\nyou, coupled this time with remorse. The second\nway is to get used to the sight of pain, so that you\nno longer feel any sympathetic suffering. The third\nway is generally the easiest of all. That is to go\naway from the place, and forget all about the sad\nbusiness as soon as possible. That is the way that\nmost sensitive people take in dealing with most of the suffering that they meet. The first way gives\nyou the most of hard work to do. The second way,\nby dulling your sensibilities, makes you less alive to\nthe pleasures that are to be gained in the company\nof happy men. The stern man, who has seen so\nmuch suffering as to be indifferent to it, may be less\nalive to the bliss of sympathy that gentler natures\ncome to know, in refined and peaceful society. By\nfar the most inviting way is the third. It prevents\nyou from growing callous, cold, and harsh. It leaves\nyou sensitive, appreciative, tender-hearted, freshly\nsympathetic, an admirable and humane being. But\nit also saves you from the pangs that to refined\nnatures must be the most atrocious, the pangs of\ncontemplating a world of sorrow which your best efforts\ncan but very imperfectly help. People with a\ndelicate sense of the beautiful surely cannot endure to\ngo about seeing all sorts of filthy and ugly miseries,\nand if they can endure it, will they not be much\nhappier, as well as more refined, more delicate in\ntaste, much higher in the scale of beautiful\ncultivation, if they do not try to endure it, but keep\nthemselves well surrounded by happy and ennobling\ncompanions? For the sight of pain is apt to make\nyou coarse; it might degrade you even to the level\nof the peevish sufferer himself. Does a refined soul\ndesire that? No one is a duller, a less stimulating,\na less ennobling companion, than the average man\nwhen he is suffering atrociously. Pain brings out\nhis native brutishness. He is abject, he curses, he\nbehaves perhaps like a wild beast. Or he lies mute\nand helpless, showing no interest in what you do for him, hating you possibly, just because you are the\nnearest creature to him. His gratitude is apt to be\na myth. So long as he yet suffers, he does not\nappreciate what you are doing for him, for why should\nhe thank you while you make him no better? And\nif you can cure him, what then? Nobody can\nremember very clearly a very sharp pain once over.\nHence he will underrate your services. You can\nmuch better appreciate your moderate trouble in\nhelping him than he can afterwards appreciate the\nvery great and agonizing trouble from which you\nsaved him. One forgets in part one\u2019s greatest\nanguish, one\u2019s most dangerous diseases. The worst\ntroubles are not favorable to clear memory. Above\nall, however, his memory will be weak for what you\ndid in his case. He will shock you afterwards by\nhaving failed to notice that you took any serious\ntrouble in his behalf at all. But, if he was sick and\nyou nursed him, he will remember very well how\nyou harassed him as you nursed him. He will\nremember a creaking door or an ill-cooked steak, when\nhe forgets your cups of cold water, your sleepless\nnights, your toil to secure silence when he needed it,\nyour patience when he complained, your sacrifice of\nall other present aims in life on his account. All\nthat he will forget, not because he is a bad man, but\nbecause he is an ordinary creature whom pain\ndebased and corrupted, so that he became hardly a fit\ncompanion for an elevated and refined soul like\nyours. He is only human. If you were an average\nman yourself, you would treat your friends that\naided you in your worst suffering after much the same fashion. It is well if the sufferer and his\nhelper do not begin a quarrel that will last a\nlifetime, all because of the meddlesome self-sacrifice of\nthe officious helper. For to the wretched any help\nis apt to seem officious, because no help is\nimmediately and unconditionally successful.\n\nSo then, if you are tender-hearted, does\ntender-heartedness dictate all this waste of sympathy?\nPlainly not. Tender-heartedness need not say: My\nneighbor must be relieved. Tender-heartedness, as\na personal affection of yours, says only: Satisfy me.\nAnd you can satisfy this affection if you forget about\nall those degraded wretches that are doomed to\nsuffer, and associate with those blessed ones whose\ninnocent joy shall make your tender heart glad of its\nown tenderness. Let us rejoice with those that do\nrejoice, and those that weep, let them take care of\nthemselves in everlasting oblivion. Such is the\ndictate of tender-hearted selfishness; and our present\npoint is the not at all novel thought, so often\nelaborated in George Eliot\u2019s novels, the thought that,\nthe tenderer the heart, the more exclusively selfish\nbecomes this dictate of tender-heartedness. Very\nsensitive people, who cannot overcome their\nsensitiveness, are perforce selfish in this world of pain.\nThey must forget that there is suffering. Their\npity makes them cruel. They cannot bear the sight\nof suffering; they must shut the door upon it. If\nhe is a Dives, such a man must first of all insist that\nthe police shall prevent people like Lazarus, covered\nwith sores, from lying in plain sight at the gate.\nSuch men must treat pain as, in these days of plumbing, we treat filth. We get the plumber and\nthe carpenter to hide it so well that even our\ncivilized nostrils shall not be offended. That we call\nmodern improvement in house-building. Even so\nwe get the police to hide suffering from us; and,\nwhen that help fails, or is inapplicable, we appeal\nto the natural sense of decency in the sufferers, and\ndemand, on the ground of common courtesy, that\nthey shall not intrude their miseries upon us. Thus\nwe cultivate a tender sympathy for the most delicate\nemotions of the human heart, as we never could do\nif we let suffering, as our forefathers used to let filth,\nlie about in plain sight. Ignore another\u2019s suffering,\nand then it practically becomes non-existent. So\nsays selfishness.\n\nVIII.\n\nIf we ourselves are very happy, our lack of\nwillingness to consider suffering may become greater and\ngreater as we get happier. Nobody is colder in\nshutting out the thought of misery than a joyous\nman in a joyous company. \u201cIf there be anywhere\nany wretched people (which we doubt) let them keep\nwell away from this place.\u201d That is the voice of\nthe spirit of overflowing sympathetic joy, as Schiller\nso finely expresses it in the hymn an die Freude: \u2014\n\n\u201cHe who, proving, hath discovered,\nWhat it is a friend to own.\nO\u2019er whom woman\u2019s love hath hovered.\nLet him here his bliss make known:\nYea, if but one living being,\nOn the earth is his to-day, \u2014\nAnd who ne\u2019er has known such, fleeing,\nLet him weep his grief away.\u201d\n\u201cJoy,\u201d says the enthusiastic young Schiller in\nthis rhapsody, \u201cJoy was bestowed on the worm.\u201d\n\u201cAll beings drink joy at Mother Nature\u2019s breast.\u201d\nDelightful generosity of the happy man! But what\ndo the crushed worms think about it? \u201cWhoso hath\na friend,\u201d \u2014 but what of the poor wretches in the\nslums of great cities, beaten, starved, imprisoned,\ncheated, and cheating, starved and imprisoned again,\nall through their lifetimes? How many souls do\nthese poor Ishmaelites call their own? But of whom\nshall the joyful man think, of whom does he or can he\nthink? Of these? No, it is the tendency of selfish\njoy to build up its own pretty world of fancy.\nEverything in that world, from cherub to worm, has joy\u2019s\nsympathy, but only in so far as it is also joyous.\nSeid umschlungen Millionen! dieser Kuss der\nganzen Welt! But in fact dieser Kuss is intended\nonly for the happy world, which in the illusion,\nbeautiful, but yet cruel, of the innocently joyous man,\nseems to be the whole world. Much good will such\nkisses do to the Millionen that groan and writhe!\nJoy ignores them, cannot believe them real.\n\nSuch then are some of the dictates of sympathy, which often bear to our conduct such relation as, in\na saying of Emerson\u2019s, the desire to go to Boston\nbears to the possible ways of getting there. \u201cWhen\nI want to get to Boston,\u201d says in substance Emerson,\n\u201cI do not swim the Charles River, but prefer\ncrossing the bridge.\u201d Emerson\u2019s saying was intended to\nillustrate his own preference for reading translations\nof foreign authors rather than the originals. It\ndoes illustrate very well the preference that we all\nhave for the shortest way out of our sympathetic\ntroubles. To help your suffering neighbor is hard\nswimming, perhaps amid ice-blocks; to go on and\nfind elsewhere merry company is to take the bridge\ndirect to Boston. Sympathy leads therefore often\nto the ignoring of another man\u2019s state as real. And\nthis is the very Illusion of Selfishness itself.\n\nPity may then turn to selfish hatred of the sight\nof suffering. It is hardly necessary to dwell at length\nupon the disheartening reverse aspect of the picture,\nnamely, on the fact that, when pity does not lead us\nto dread the suffering of others, it may lead us to\ntake such credit for our very power to sympathize\nwith pain, that we come to feel an actual delight in\nthe existence of the events that mean suffering to\nothers. Our hearts may so swell with pride at our\nown importance as pitiful persons, that we may even\nlong to have somebody of our acquaintance in\ntrouble, so that we can go and pose, in the presence of\nthe sufferers, as humane commentators on the\noccurrence, as heroic endurers of sorrows that we do not\nreally share. This is the second stage of selfish pity.\nIt is even more enduring and incurable than the first. The dread of the sight of pain may be made\nto pass away by enough of inevitable experience.\nBut the selfish love of the office of comforter grows\nwith the sense of our personal importance, and with\nthe number of times when we are called upon to\nexercise our powers. There are people who are always\nfretful and disconsolate unless they know of\nsomebody who very badly needs consoling. Then they\nare calm and happy, for they are sure that they are\nadmirable as comforters, they feel themselves the\ncentre of an admiring neighborhood, they are plying\ntheir noble avocation in a graceful fashion. This\ntype is surely no very uncommon one. Such people\nare apt to be intolerable companions for you unless\nyou have a broken leg, or a fever, or a great bereavement.\nThen they find you interesting, because you\nare wretched. They nurse you like saints; they\nspeak comfortably to you like angels. They hate to\ngive the little comfort that can be given from day\nto day to those who are enduring the ordinary\nvexations of healthy and prosaic life. They rejoice to\nfind some one overwhelmed with woe. The happy\nman is to them a worthless fellow. High temperature\nis needed to soften their hearts. They would\nbe miserable in Paradise, at the sight of so much\ntedious contentment; but they would leap for joy if\nthey could but hear of a lost soul to whom a drop of\nwater could be carried. To them the most blessed\ntruth of Scripture is found in the passage: \u201cFor\nthe poor ye have always with you.\u201d Yea, blessed\nare the merciful, for they shall never lack work.\nThey shall be like the sculptor, delighting in the rough blocks of marble that contain his beloved\nstatues. For them the world will doubtless have\nalways a plenty of blocks.\n\nThese are not the vulgarly malevolent. Yet they\nwould be disconsolate altogether if evil were to\ncease. They regard misery as their special\nproperty; hence they would be very much disappointed\nto hear that Paradise had come again, and that\nmisery had been abolished. And we are speaking now,\nnot of the professional enthusiasm that must make\nthe physician interested in the diseases that he\nstudies, but of the pure delight in pity that distinguishes\ncertain unprofessional people whose lives would be\nalmost utterly empty of all joy were their neighbors\nnot subject to serious calamities. Surely it is not\nthis sort of pity that overcomes the illusion of\nselfishness. Rather does such pity well illustrate that\nillusion.\n\nIX.\n\nSympathy then, as an emotion, is not always\naltruistic, but frequently very selfish. It does not always\noverthrow, but often strengthens, selfishness. And\nso deceitful an emotion cannot be trusted with the\noffice of giving moral insight. In so far as pity ever\ndoes involve the detection of an illusion of selfishness,\nwe may have occasion to speak of it hereafter. For\non that side, Schopenhauer\u2019s thought still looks\nattractive. But if we view pity with reference not to\ninsight but to emotion, if we ask whether a given act\nwas unselfish because it was pitiful, then we can\nalready answer that, in so far as unselfishness constitutes morality, the pitiful character of an act does\nnot insure its unselfishness, and hence not its morality.\nSchopenhauer\u2019s own typical example, quoted above,\nis indeed interesting, but not conclusive as to this\nquestion. \u201cI pitied him,\u201d says the lover who has\nrefrained from slaying his rival. \u201cHad he not\nresembled my father as he slept, I had done it,\u201d says\nLady Macbeth. Possibly Lady Macbeth\u2019s pity was\ngood in itself, but not quite sufficient in quantity.\nBut her words remind us of what the lover might do,\nif only pity stood in the way of the murder that he\ndesired to commit. He might get somebody else to\ntake care of the whole business, preparations and all,\nand so save his own tender emotions. In fact,\nhowever, Schopenhauer\u2019s young lover has something\nmore than a mere emotion of pity in him.\n\nBut so far as we have considered sympathy, we\nhave had but another illustration of the difficulty\nwith which we are dealing. Even if sympathy were\nalways unselfish, never capricious, perfectly clear in\nits dictates, there would remain the other objection.\nSympathy is a mere fact of a man\u2019s emotional nature.\nTo an unsympathetic man, how shall you demonstrate\nthe ideals that you found upon the feeling of\nsympathy? And so one returns to the old difficulty. You\nhave an ideal whereby you desire to judge the world.\nBut this ideal you found in its turn on the fact that\nsomebody has a certain sort of emotion. Any one\nwho has not this emotion you declare to be an\nincompetent judge. And so your last foundation for\nthe ideal is something whose worth is to be\ndemonstrated solely by the fact that it exists. Thus in this and in the last chapter, in general\nand in particular discussions, we have found the one\nproblem recurring. The ideal is to have an ideal\nfoundation, yet we seem always to give it a foundation\nin some reality. And if we then look about us,\nwe always find some skeptic saying, either that he\ndoes not feel sure of the existence of any such\nreality, or that he doubts whether it means what we\nsay that it means, or, again, that in any case there are\nother people, who have found other realities, and\nwhose moral principles, founded on these other\nrealities, are in deadly opposition to ours. The idealist\nof our preliminary discussion on the methods of\nethical inquiry has so far met with numerous\nmisfortunes. He has continually been enticed over to a\nsort of realistic position, and then just the same\narguments that he used against the realist are used\nagainst him. If, however, true to himself, he\nassaults the realism of the modern descendants of\nHobbes with the argument that all their physical\nhypotheses are worthless without ideals, then he\nhears the challenge to show an ideal that is not\nhis whim, and that is not founded on a physical\ndoctrine. There seems no refuge for him as yet but to\nturn skeptic himself.\n\nNotes","title":"The Religious Aspect of Philosophy/Chapter 4","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":12872}