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Till')
ORIGIN AND (iROWTJJ
MORAL INSTINCT
M
I: !
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH
OF THE
MORAL INSTINCT
BV
ALEXANDER SUTHERLAND, M.A.
IN TWO VOLUMES
VOL. II.
LONGMANS, GRKEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON-
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1898
All rif;hts reserved
I
i
C0.\TKNT8 OF VOL. II.
CHAPTEIt XIV.
SVMPATHY AS A NATCRAr, JIORAMTV
Moral Svst..,,,. „ 4 ', a ,"" ' "^ "'"''"'"■"f"' 'Vindple i„ (Wt
" "•■••■■■- "■M-:.^'t;,,:;L.;;:;.::t"' -"■"-
CHAPTER XV.
CrROWTIf or TIIK SkNSK OF DlTV
,.. ^-'--n.. .„„'„,,.,„ ,,„,:;;;:!l; ;; ■:;™: ;;;■!;;■". .•■ '■'- , , ,.,.,
CHAPTER XVI.
Sklf-Respect
nuty an Kxtonial, S,.l(-If..sp,,,.t an l„
Respect,
Progressive witli Tiiiiu
PAOK
1
30
poet, p. 71-W,.|r.[{esp,.i.t
03
.spect. p. ,JS_T1„. Tr,u. Sanction of Sclf.Respoc.t,
le, p. 7-4.
CHAPTER XVII.
The Bealtv of Rip.ht Cokdcct
"-.11, I). .>— Hence Con.es the .Moral J.leal, p. 9,-;.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Rfrpo.vhibimtv
ScientiMe Neccssitiirianism, 11. 100-l\Vl..,'t"i. \r '". . "c ^^
AUsenccofKrccWill I , s not J , ' ' ^^"""'>' '' ^"■""= ^iH ? p. 107-
L'se of the Sense f R 'on if ^ "'''"'''' '^'^'^''''''■^''''''•>- !'• 1"-
tl'ought, p. 122. •'^■^"""^""■"y. p. n7-Kesponsilnlity and Pore-
CHAPTER XIX.
The Influence op thf Fa.i,,,.
. OF THK IMMILV ox THK GUOWTH OP MOUAI S loo
n
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER XX.
The Growth op Law
Iiulividiial liespoiisibility Extended no t'artluT tlmn tlie Family, p. 157— Re-
taliation and Fend, p. 161— Compensation, p. 103— Arliitration, p. ICo—
Sovereign Power, p. 169— Codes of Law, p. 1713.
PAOB
157
CHAPTER XXI.
The Prevalence op Law 182
Legal Ordeals, p. 182— The King's Peace, p. 18S— The Court of .Instiee, p. 195
— Inliltratiou of K(inity into Law, p. 198- Law as a Reformatory Ageut
p. 206.
CHAPTER XXIL
The Nervous Basis of the Emotions
Kmotlon Arises from Bodily Htimnlus, p. 211— The Two Nerve-Systems, p. 215
—Conipariitive Independence of the Sympathetic System, p. 221— Influence
of the Sympathetic on Emotions, \). 22.')— Development of the Sympathetic
System, p. 227— Development of ihe VVarni-lilooded Type, p. 235— Inllu-
enee of Temperature on Hatching, p. 239 -Temperature in Mannnals
■ami Birds, p. 246— The Limit to Warmth of Blood, p. 248— Tempera-
ture-Control of the Sympathetic System, p. 249— Warm Blood and
Emotions, p. 253— Direct Action of the Sympathetic System on Emotions,
p. 258— Vascular Conditions in Amatory Emotion, p. 259— Vascular
Conditions in Maternal Emotions, p. 261.
211
^
CHAPTER XXni.
The Nature of the Emotions
Bodily Condition and Emotional Capacity, p. 264— Emotional Effects of Drugs,
p. 269— Emotional Effects of Pathological States, p. 275— Arguments froui
Insanity, p. 278— The Primary Emotions, p. 284 -Induced Primary
Emotions, p, 295— Nature of the Moral Instinct, p. .303.
264
CHAPTER XXIV.
Right and Wrong
Index
... 308
... 825
I f
PACK
. 167
157-Re-
p. 105—
182
Of, p. 195
y Ageut,
211
IS, p. 215
Inllneiice
iiputlietic
15-liitlii-
Maiuniuls
IViiipera-
ood anil
)motion.s,
■Vascular
264
f Drugs,
Ills from
Priniarv
.. 308
.. 325
THE OUIGIX AM) (JIJCJWTH OF THE
MOKAL IXSTIXCT.
CHAPTER XIV.
SYMPATHY AS A xNATlUAL MORALITY.
The Emmixatk.x ok UxsYMfATHETic Types Causes Neiive
Development.
I HAD prepared an elaborate chapter relatin<r the history of
.slav,.ry anion- mankind, and showing how it begins to arise
as an nistituti.Mi at the level of the highest sava<.-es how it
expands and reaches its most miserable phases at the hi-hest
barbarian level ; how it still expands at the level of the lower
civihsation, but loses much of its atrocity ; how it then begins
to die away, not as the result of teaching or any extraneous
influence, but purely as the consequence of elimination man
as seen m a cultured community having a more sympathetic
nerve reaction than man on the barbarian level Then I had
prepared a chapter on the history of religious animosity,
sliow.ng that, in spite of the efforts of creeds and systems
men of all faiths have grown ., .re tolerant. Reli-ions
generally teach a .loctrine of brotlierliness and mutual help
with.n the circle of the faith, but of condemnation, abhor-
rence, or even of extirpation beyond it. Yet, In- a steady
expan.sion of the syn.pathetic tendencies, a tolerant feeling in
the course of long ages spreads and embraces in an ever-
widenmg area men of other faiths. Such a history shows
on.phat.eall3- l'<>w ve.y large a proportion of this change has
belonged to the last century or two.
r ha.i also written a chapter describing the mitigation of
ernnmai treatment, showing ho^^ radically diflerent must have
I'een the nervous organisation of the crowds of former days
who gathered m eager /eal to watch the tortan- of men anrl
women from that of a cultured lady or gentleman of our own
!'*
2 THK ORIGIN AN.) (^R„WTH „F XHK MOHAL INSTINCT.
tina., who would sl.rink with h„m,r fn.n, the th.;u.d,t of wit
-s,.^ a scK. .o a,o.n.h.^. and woul.l ,ive a iWuun- .-athor
ha. b co.npeil...l to take any part in what our ancx-stors
uii(l()ul)tc(Ily fiijoyed.
I hav. o.nittcl th,.se three chapters i„ order to keep this
•ook w.thu, reasonable houn.ls, hut if adn.itted they wouM
have en.phas,sed th. truth ah-eady shown, that a hu,. tx .u e
ot syn.pathy has hy natural n.ean« taken place I^tween the
sava^r, a„d the culture.l conditions of n.ankin.l. However it
1ms been an.ply shown that those preservative en.otions which
... the hsh are purely parental an.l by no n.eans strono- ^vh^cll
'" •>••''/-• >'HU.nnal have been seen to ,row both conjugal
a... socal, and of u.tenser type, have continued their pro'IaCss
ami qu.ckened ,t throu^d.out all .rade. of mankind, and'^that
hey are even now in full process of .levelopnient. The result
has been a distinct alteration in the nerve constitution of men •
not an alt.Tat.on to be seen perhaps for n.any a lon^. century'
under the nncroscope of the histolo^ist, but visible, plainly
v.s.ble., n. ,ts eHects. The society la.ly of ancient Konu. could
-Inve out n. her chariot witli ea^er expectation of a day's en-
.loynKT.t n. seeino-the l)Iood of o-ladiators How, an.l their bodies
s .Hen m convulsive death upon the sands, or in behoidin..
the limbs ol women crunche.l by the jaws of wil.l beasts
Ask the avera-e lady of our own times to witness such a
scene : take her to view a prisoner rto..o.ed or a bullock
s uu,htered and the pliysical revulsion, ending, perhaps in a
deadly hunt will assert a manifest chan^.e in nerve condi-
tioir:. MultiUides of all ranks used to hasten out in mediaeval
Spam and I'ortuo.al to see the heretic lowered into a bonhr^
from which, lest he should be too soon broiled, he was hoisted
out a^jain by means of pulleys. Roars of lau<,diter went up
from the crowd at the contortions of the ajronised victim
Now-a-days there are thousands of men unable to follow their
choice of the sur^^eon s profession by reason of a physical
incapacity to look on blood and woun.ls without horror I
have seen a strong youn^r man faint when asked to -dve
assistance in reducing- a .lislocated shoulder. In En-drnd
three centuries a^^o, bear-baitinj., cock-ti^irlitin^., ami '^nany'
kinds of sport mvolvinir cruelty, were ^a-eatly enjoye.i That
N'STINCT.
ii;,'lit of wit-
■tiiiii' i-atliLT
ir aiicvstors
to keep this
tliey would
i^'e expanse
)t!t\veeii tlie
However, it
ti(Jiis wliicli
■oil;;', wliicli
;Ii conjugal
iii" proij^ress
• I, and that
The result
on oF uieu ;
nt; centuiy
)Ii', plainly
^ome could
a da^-'s en-
heii- hodies
hehoidintr
Jeasts.
less such a
a bullock
rhaps in a
rve condi-
1 iiiedijeval
) a bonrira,
"^as hoisted
r Went up
.'d victim.
)llow their
I physical
horror. I
d to jrive
En^daiul,
nd many
ed. That
SYMi-ATHV AS A NAITRAL M(H{ALITV
of <mr times would willi„.dv (rive mo .. . f • ■ " ''"*''''''
an.l 1 dure say thit at I,., r/.l ^ ' ''''""' ''''^' ^''^'''t'^
-I- i---::t:::r.rr™;;:::';:r!:
P'^'.s throat, thou^d,, on the other hand w. .
practice, to c-nrV '"'"'"■"'» ""|..™il.lc «itl,„„t I,,,,,,
~.;ucr ti,: L- rv i ' ■', r'"^' r"'" "-'" """ '-
conip exion ere shf. ■>i,f^,. i . y '"""^"t riom i,rr h-esh
yet tl,i» .Iocs ot 1 , ," "T "' '""'"■"' ""■"'"'•I''- ■
'-^« ay feel "u,;';,,:r; r; :;r:;;""-« ™'": , ■'■'-
»l.«ll »h„w in the i?„,| c 1 ' '"" "'■ ">"'l"'"'y.a» I
Nl
4 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
It is, I am convinced, an actual sy.steniic chan<,^e which
has been tl,e cause of the ^n-eat development of sympathy in
the past. A man fairly typical of the modern standard of
sympathy would rathe.- have a hand cut off than that any
person should he killed by his fa,dt. One of o.u- ancest./s
of 1000 y,,ars a^^o would without compunction have
slauohtered thirty jx-rsons to save his own hand. If we
analyse the motives, we h'n.l that they are in no way con-
cerned with justice or ri^-hteousness, what we have ])een told
by others or what we have j-easoned out for oin-selves Our
reluctance to cause the death of another is ),ase.l on certain
mstnictive aversions, whicli were nnich less developed amouff
our ancestors. The Roman emperor, Valentinian, had two hears
whose ca-e was always kept near his bedroom, so that with-
out trouble he could daily see them .levour the limbs of the
men who had just been executed, thus losing before his meals
notluHg of an excelh^.t and appetising spectacle. (Gibbon,
chap. XXV.) Can we conceive that a modern emp..ror of
C.ermany would feel anything but deep loathing and dis-ust
m such a scene / Yet fully half of the Roman emperors
lound more or less pleasure in the sight of mutilation and
death. So gnuitly has the nerve susceptibility of the race
been altered in the interval '
If we se.-k for the reason, it is fairly plain. At all epochs
of the iMologic struggle, the process of natural selection has
sei/.e.l upon one or two .pialities as the car.linal points upon
which preservation is to hinge. For a long tinu' .-ither
speed, or strength and courage, or else adventitious tricks of
colour, of di'fensive armour or of offensive weapon, decided
which was to be the em.'rgent type. Then came the stage at
winch intelligence was dominant: and still among all men it
IS ol great though not now of supreme importance. A ..-ood
brain always wins the day in the long run against strong
muscles, and yet there is something still more potent— a good
heart: whereby is meant that collection of syin|)atlietic
nuahties popularly summed up in this term. Tlu-'dever, but
heartless fellow, has a less chance of ultimate success 'and
eventual representation !,.. posterity than nuv. luss clever but
better e(|uippe,l with those (|ualities which win friends, gain a
INSTINCT.
liiui<,fe which
symjmthy in
I .stiiiidard of
mil that any
)nr anoi'.st(jr.s
iction have
and. It' we
no wa^' con-
ve been told
selve.s. Our
d on certain
loped among
ad two hears
a that with-
ind)s of the
re his meals
}. (Gihl)on,
emperor of
and disnust
n emperors
tilation and
of the race
.t all epochs
election has
loints upon
time either
IS tricks of
on, decided
hi' stage at
;' all men it
e. A good
iiist strong
nt — a good
ym[)athetic
clevei', hut
iK'cess and
clever but
nds, gain a
SYMPATHY AS A NATURAL MORALITY g
the prevalence of a sincere and nnadected friendh-,. .
pursu ni^ th.ir hf)..,.«f „.fi • ""LLtL.i iiiendhness, and
I ^ r Ml .lonest paths in multitndes of hom.-s tl,.,f ...
ae.:/;^::,:;::;r;;^;::;— ;!rs;:r^^ »
' '";»"■»' ■" y< hy ,v i,„ii,,,et ,„.„,, :■;'",'"*-"'
si'ni tliat tin. i„»ii wli„ i, ., ,,,„„. ,■„,,, , " '"'™
>np..l,.,„„c. t.v,,„ or „l„n„l«„t l„.„i,„ l,„J .I'sefon .V ,
or 1,^,, f,,„„ „rt- ti„, f„e„ „f ti,„ ,.„,,i, ;^r, 'f "■'"';'■*'
i;=;:;;"'i';;;;:,:3-:;:r-' —-s^^
".-.■»t..,s f„L,,,, „ livi, ;::,•;,, .r,,.?:';"'''''"''" '';f '"»
■""■■'«■.-.•• CO,,,,.,, ,„„i ,,: ,.i ,; r , .": :;; ;,7" ""
aiice. aiK assum.. tl,.,f -^., "''^" 'i"ow-
"' ,""; >""" "f Quo™ Eii.„i.ti, . 1, r ■',■"" ''^"''''
"'." ""'■» «■«■■« then bon, .,00 bovx , ,«, '" ,"""r
ki ,v' ,i „1 ",,;"'."""■ ?" '"«'" l"'V, been
.y own youthtui i minora tcs aiinfh«,. .. i- i
" "■"» l'™.U«.' of l,i,S ,|i«,,|„,.,y „,„ 1 C ' "'
/ i
G THK ORIGIN AND GUOWTH OV THE MOHAL INSTINCT.
time, out f,f every 1000 personn l.orn Hve M'ere actually
hannv.l. as a matter of recor.lod statistics. But brawls
venereal diseases, and so forth were far more potent cleansers
oi society. Those thus eliminated would l)e replaced by men
an.l women of better stock, an.l so we may feel sure that at
each veneration a steady 5 per cent, of the poorer type was
withdrawn, leavin^r room for the e.xpansion of those richer in
symiKithetie .(ualities. But the power of such a steady with-
drawal, acti no. i„ cumulative fashion, is enormous when spread
ov.T a sufHcient tin,,.; even im years are .piite enouoh to
pn.duee visible ertects ; indeed, if we had a means of sifting.-
the peopl.. „f Queen Elizabeth's time into twoe.pial sets those
who could pass in those days for fairly uood men an.l w'omen,
and those who were more or less distinctly below the avera..-e
of moral con.hict, it would be found that practically none of
the inferior blood Hows in tlie veins of the present ^-eneration-
we bem^- bred almost wholly from the better stock.
_ All this implies that nerve or^'anisms of finer suscepti-
bdities survive, and it follows, therefore, that we are of
distinctly different nerve reactions from those ancestors of
ours who, 1.500 years a^'o, re^-arded the Lej-'es Barbarorum as
suitable codes of justice. And the chan^v becomes very rapid
in_ such a land as the England of the last three centuries,
with its internal development so little troubled by war,'
and its external conHicts serviii-' only as a vent for restless
spirits away from home. Within the community the pre-
seryative value of coura-e ami stren-th has been declininf.,
while that of intelli^rence and sympatJiy has been ever on
the increase. In no other way can we account for that
enr. nious acceleration in the jrrowth of sympathy during?
these later times, so abundantly shown in the chapters which
have, or were to have, preceded.
The Sympathy thus DEVEroPEn is a .Mohal Instinct.
But the sympathy which has thus been developed is practi-
cal morality in its natural and simple aspect. I am far from
as8orfin|r that it forms tlie whole of our moral instinct, for
there are other later and more derivative constituents yet to be
;STIN('T.
I'c actually
)ut brawls,
it cleansers
ced by men
uu-e tbat at
V typo was
se richer in
eatly witli-
lieii spread
enounh to
s of siftiuf^'
sets, those
11(1 women,
le a\-ei-a<i'e
ly none of
generation;
!• stiscepti-
we are of
cestors of
arorum as
very rapid
centuries,
by war,
or restless
' the pre-
declinintf,
1 ever on
for that
y during
ers which
S'STINCT.
is practi-
I'ar from
tinct, for
yet to be
S^"MPATHV AS A NATriiAL MORALITY. 7
considered. Rut T shall prove in this chapter that by itself
synii)athy is able to sujiply u very satisfactory and (jften
(|Uite sulhcient morality: while in the following three
chapters I shall show that the other constituents of a more
complex morality are all .lerivatives of sympathy. 1,, ethical
progress we may distiiii^uish these stao'es—
1. nc Ehme,it,d or Natural— {a) morality of direct
sympathy.
2. The Complex or Deriimtive~{h) morality of duty • (v)
morality of self-respect : {,1) morality of i.leal beauty.
1 propose in this chapter to show how the first of these is
iundamrntal to all morality; and in the following- chapters to
indicate how the three last forms are in truth derived from
the hVst, yvt how they add to its operation a steadin.'ss an.l
permanence not otherwise attainable.
The sense of ,luty often makes by itself a passable sort of
niorahty, but wantin,y i„ sympathy it is apt to be stiff' and
formal. In every relatio.n of life we feel the coldness and
emptmess of such a morality. The man who brino.,s „p his
children carefully, not at all becau.se he loves them but
because it is his duty so to do, fails lamentably as a father.
He spends Ins money and his time as he thinks they ou-dit to
be spent. But all that money, all that time can efiect will
never make up for the want of love; while the man who by
tlie spontaneous play of affection can ren.ler the youn-r folks
happy, and who cares for their welfare without feeliny the
t<.sk so much a .luty as a pure .lelight, is by far the more
efhcient parent. So, too, a cohl husband may do his duty
with even a painful punctiliousness. Every thinij that he
ought to provide may be provided ; he may leave his wife not
the least reasonabl,. excuse for complaint, and yet be a failure
His wife would exchange all that duty for just a little warm
artection. would give up some of liis immaculateness for a
httle genuine feeling. If the love be true, all kindliness and
conse,,uent happiness will How therefrom ; love kin.Iles love
and the most beautiful relationships of life spring „p without
so niueh as a thought of obligation. Indeed th,> .U^iy of doing
nght .s lost in the pleasure of .loing right. Where no love
exists, a sense of duty is far bett<v than nothing at all but
8
I '
THK ORIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
V.
the morality to wliich it gives rise is a ilull cold thin.r in
comparison with that which springs from ati'ection.
So, too, in our social relations, duty makes a substitute
but only an iiulitt'erent substitute, for kindly sympathies. The
man who does what he ought to do, though actuated l)y no
teehng of gladness in giving happiness, no sense of com-
passion for the sorrows of others, may indeed make a goo<l
enough citi/en. But if he reluctantly help another out of a
ditch because it is his ,luty to .lo so, instead of cheerfully
giving a hand because eager to help, the .piality of the
resultant morality is very inferior. The man who is in-
capable of a warm frien.lship, or a noble enthusiasm of
patriotism or the glow of benevolence, is in so far of a poorer
type. Though upright, he is frigid : though courteous, he is
stift. We all think him a good man, but our hearts never
gla.lden at his approach. Whereas the man whose life Hnds
the spring of its goodness in an active sympathy briiK-'s happi-
ness wherever he goes, and his moralitj^ is contagious. It is
this charm of goodness founded on sympathy that has .-iveii
to the figure of Jesus through long ages, and to that of
i^ii.Idha through still longer, their power over the souls of
lueii. Myria.ls have felt their hearts melt within them un.ler
the contemplation of these models of compassionate sweetness •
an. the morality which they taught, founded mainly on love'
with duty only in the secon.l place, has far outstripped that
of di which was the main feature of the antecedent Ju.laism
and diminism.
f too, we sluill see that self-respect, though a most useful
ally r sympathy in securing the highest type of morality
mal s but an indifferent substitute for it. The man who has
too .inch respect for himself ever to do what is base is
pro' ibly a good man. But if that is all, he is certain to be
sell centred and to fail in active goodness.
Filially, the morality of i.leal beauty which Hxes its <mze
on the abstract loveliness of what is pure aiul right. nobFe as
It may be when an ally, becomes a poor substitute for active
synipHthy. It may send its devotees into the wilderness to
live the lives of lonely meditation and exaltation ; it may
g've m the type of the cloistered nun, the enthusiast of
i
5TINCT.
thiriK, in
substitute,
:hic's. The
ited hy no
i of com-
ike n ^''ood
■r out ()[■ a
cliL't'rt'ully
ty of the
lio is in-
usiiisni of
f a poorer
H)us, lie is
rts never
life finds
i^'s iiappi-
us. It is
has ii;iven
' that of
souls of
nn under
veetness ;
on love,
iped that
Judaism
ist useful
morality,
who has
Ijase is
iu to be
its gaze
noble as
)r active
rnesH to
it may
siast of
SYMPATHY AS A NATURAL MORALITY.
9
philosophy, of science, or of art, those who withdraw them-
selves from active participation in life to shut themselves up
in the contemplation of the ideal, yet better far when these
thin<,rs co-exist with a nature which feels that nothing human
can be outside the range of its sympathies.
It nuist not be supposed, however, that any opposition
is here intended between these various (jualities. All that
is impHed is only the more natural and fundamental
nature of sympathy as the essential feature in morality,
which, though it may exist without the kindly emotions, is
always moi-e or less incomplete foi- the want.
On the other hand, an efficient ilegree of sympathy will,
and among the mass of men actually does, provide an ade-
(|uate moi-ality without any great admixture of the other
• [ualities. Indeed self-respect and the love of ideal beauty in
conduct are to lie found in oidy a small proportion, ami that
the most highly developed, of mankind. A sense of duty is
very much more widely extended, being sure to grow up, as
we shall see in the next chapter, whenever the sympathetic
impulses have been long in operation. It Mxes and stereotypes
what sympathy by itself leaves too mobile and varial)le, and
it is found as a constituent of morality in every connnunity.
Yet it is safe to assert that, even without it, sympathv alone
can produce a high standard of morality, though not the very
highest.
He camiot be a very bad man who is kind and considerate
to all around him. If he is accu.stomed to sacrifice his own
comfoit from a natural wish to promote the happiness of
others, we are entitled to call him a good man. The Moslems
have long luid a proverb (E. W. Lane, Arabian. Sac let,/, p.
102) that on the day of judgiuent the first who will lay hold
of a man will be his wife and children. An.l truly the founda-
tion of all morality is domestic ; for even now, parental and
conjugal sympathies, as they were the first to appear, so are
they still the most fun.lamental. When a man has run his
mortal race, if, for his (epitaph, we may truly write that lie was
an affectionate son, a kind husband, and a ten<ler father, we
imply a character of fundamental goodness from which other
moral ciualities may be inferred. If we can add that he was
...
/ 1
10 THE ORKHX AND GROWTH OP THK MORAL IXSTINCT.
a true friend and a .levote.l citizen, in that collocation of
parental, conjno-al, a„,l social .sympathies we describe the
tuU measure ot or.hnary practical moralitj-. This will be
a happy world of ours when so much can be truly said of
each and all.
Morality not a Thing Exclusively Human.
It may be objected to this view that it extends the applica-
tion ot the term morality beyond the limits to which it is
generally conHne.l. For if tliis be n.orality, then there is
luuch that ,s moi-al in the humblest human conimunitv there
IS not a little that is moral in the conduct of many of the
lower animals. But in.leed there is no rea.s.m whv a spirit of
exelus,vene.ss should reserve to civilised societies the praise of
•luahties which have their roots far down in humbler forms of
exi.stence. Among ourselves the credit of right conduct is
treely and warmly allowed to the mother who works for her
children, who <lenies herself many an innocent pleasure in
order that she may feed and clothe an<l properly train her
httle family. Shall we .leny the same applause to the .savage
inoth..r who carries her babe on her weary shoulders throu^^h
many a parching journey, who will risk her life for it and
toil till slie IS ready to drop rather than that it should suffer
from hunger or .langer '. What though she act but in obe-
dience to an iiLstinct^ So in the main does the civili.sed
mother, who, if not working out a happy instinct of her
nature, if actuated by no joyous enthusiasm of maternity but
only .loing her duty as a hired day labourer, will but indiffer-
ently fulfil her function of motherhood. Yet if the sava.re
mother is to be credited with moral feeling when slie lavishes
a self-sacrificing love and care upon her child, why not the
mother monkey, which, with her young one clasped close in
her arms, iiies over the tree to^is, embarrassed in her flight
while .langer pre.s.ses near, yet thinking only of her tender
oHsp,-,ng ( Why not the wounded ape, which, in so many
well-authenticated ca.ses, has used her last strength to place the
ittle one safe among the foliage, an.l then has turned round
to face tlie hunters and the death they brought i. Why should
^STINCT.
ocation of
scribe tlie
i.s will be
ly .saiil of
AX.
e applica-
hich it i.s
I there is
ty; there
ly of tlie
I spirit of
praise of
forms of
)n(luct is
s for her
'asure in
rain her
savaf;-e
through
■ it, and
Id suffer
in obe-
civilised
i of her
lity, hut
indift'er-
savajj^e
lavishes
not the
close in
■ flif.-lit,
tender
) many-
lace the
1 round
should
SYMPATHY AS A XATUKAL MORALITY.
II
the maternal care of the I)ird which so sedulously feeds and
^ruards its Hed(relino;s be denied the praise of l)ein^r moral ?
And why, when we see a mother desert her little brood, do
we feel ourselves entitled to denoiuice her cruelty in leaving
the helpless to perish while she .leparts to disport herself
with another mate i It is only human pride which has made
an arl)itraiy distinction of kind where there is in truth oidy
a distinction of de<(ree.
And so of the social virtues. When we read of a digf^^er
upon a rough goldtiekl who neglects his chance of the huJlvy
patch .just reached, in order that he may tun-se the slow hours
of his dying mate, his conduct atiects us by its noble disin-
terestedness. When a dog, healthy and naturally of high
spirits, abandons the fresh delights of the open air and all the
sports it otters, an<l creeps into the kennel beside his feeble
mate to lick its sores and yield it the coinfort of loving com-
radeship, wherein lies any essential difference /
Herbert Spencer has, in his treatise on Ef/nrs (part iv.),
insisted with force, but without exaggeration, on the essenti-
ally moral nature of nuich of the con<luct to be readily o])served
in the lower animals, and in Apnendix ]) to that volume he
gives an entertaining contrast of the moral character of two
dogs and of a pony.
It is not difficult to Mud abundance of fairly well established
anecdotes of moral feeling on the part of elephants and of
monkeys; but naturally such instances are to be found most
abundantly in the case of dogs, seeing that they have so
long and so closely been under the observation of men. In
Jesse's Anecdotes of Doi/s there are scores of instances that
speak most plainly of a moral sense ; for scarcely otherwise
can we designate the instinct which bids a dog plunge in
among a crowd of others to defend from brutal attadv a
poor cur he had never seen before; or that which impels
one unhesitatingly to dash into a swollen stream to rescue
another that was in danger of drowning; or that which
actuates a dog when he brings a share of his dimiei-
tlaily to another that has been tied up juid left to starve.
In this well-known collection I count twenty-seven in-
cidents which seem to me fairly well authenticated, and at
V.
■
if
:H
,||:^
!''
r:S
i
;H
12
THK ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
(
the same time indicative of moral feeiin^r. These will be
found in Bohn's edition at paf^es 18, 43, 4B, 47, 4«, 55 65 136
137, 151, 152, lfi2, 167, 173, 191, 199, 201, 205, 282, .W 307*
317, 319, 386, 424, 465, 480.
Oi course morality amonor ,lo(,fs as amont; men implies
Jmmorality ; they have their murderers, thieves and liars. I
had a collie doy- to which a Newfoundlaml of the neighbour-
hood took a most inveterate dislike. The bigger dog was
resolutely bent on destroying the smaller, and several' times
was close on satisfying bis hatred : at last having caught the
colli,, in the water he deliberately held tlie poor creature .lown
till drowned. Instances of murderous propensities are only
too common, and tluevishness is well known among inferior
dog natures. Lying is also often I'liough a vice of dogs. Jesse
relates how a terrier named Peter used to accompany its master
on long rides from which it would return very tired. Resolved
on going no more, whenever it heard itself called and saw
what was intended, it made a pretence of being extremely
lame, and the more its niast-n- insisted upon it's going the
lamer it became. This was a lying trick very tVe.,uently
played. (Aneedot,'.s, p. 2(52.) In Darwin's Life and Letters (i.,
114) there is an account of a .log which, when it wished to
waken pity and be granted tit-bits, would assume an appear-
ance of extreme misery.
It must be granted that there is no more perfection in the
morals of dogs than in those of men: but a dog of a tine
sympathetic nature may be relied on to injure his £llow-dogs,
or man his master, by no nnu-dering or thieving or deception.'
Such a dog is abundantly capable of gratitude, and sometimes
.shows It in singularly touching ways. But what is nnich
more strongly indicative of a moral sense is that such dogs
are highly capable of remorse, that painful feeling which
arises wlien memory pictures a bygone cruelty and arraigns
It before the tribunal of an active sympathy. I remember
in my father's house a big, good-natured but clumsy dog,
which never showed the least sign of testiness except when
a certain little kitten came at his dinner-time to help her-
self out of his plate. Tliougli he liked the little tiling, yet
at such times he usetl to snap at her without hurting her,
SYMPATHY AS A NATURAL MORALITY.
13
k'-(lo{TS,
i,'enerally however sliowincr afterwards what we in the family
thought to be re<,n'et at liis uiii,reiierous conduct. On one
occasion when all were away from home for a day, we found
on our return the kitten lyinj^ dead by the scarcely touched
plate of the dofr. A snap had sent his tooth right through
the little thing's skull. I'he dog was nowhere to be found,
and it was only late in the evening that he was discovered
crouching among the coal under a shed. This animal had
never been beaten and rarely scolded, yet he spent the follow-
ing day in abject misery, repenting literally in dust and
ashes. Perhaps a few words of disapprobation were expressed
to him. I cannot now remember. But at least he receive<l no
beating and feared none. His contrition was spontaneous.
In the hinnblest stages of human society, morality rises
no higher than this simple and natural play of sympatlietic
feeling. Kindness to chiklren, wife, or neighbour, and so
much of truth and honesty as a goodwill towards tlie members
of the tribe will dictate, form the sum total of morals. But in
the daily life of a community, men who are themselves
courteous and kind will expect a reasonable measure of
courtesy and kindness in return. The man who loves his
wife and pleases her, most naturally expects to be loved and
pleased by her. So soon then as s\-mpathy ])egins to be ex-
pected, so soon as a certain standard of it is set up by the
comnmnity in accordance with its average development in
the connnunity, there is a natural growth of the sense of
duty. In a tribe wlierein most of the parents are good to
their children, he who is cruel or neglectful will suffer in
general esteem : or further still, if his behaviour outrages the
sympathetic feelings of the others, he may be so far ostracised,
or so far become the object of general ill-will, that a line of
conduct to which he is not naturally disposed may be thrust
upon hhu from without. Hence the sense of duty in its
humblest form arises, its contents determined by the general
standard of sympathy, as I shall describe in the next chapter,
but its strength and sanction determiiied by that sense of re-
sponsibility to be dealt with in chapter xviii. and (ulminating
in that slow growth of law which I shall analyse in the three
subsequent chapters.
f
ifl
i I
9'--^HH
1
P-'^l
i;
il'^^^l
1
i
i
i
i ^^^^1
14 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
^
I
11^
Hi,
The Fundamentak Phincii'le in Great Moral
Systems.
The sense of duty is primarily only an ally or assistant of
sympathy in determining ri^ht conduct. And 3'et there often
comes a time when it usurps a paramount place, ifenerally to
the detriment of morality. For the man who does liis duty
may be a self-satistied stickler for dry forms of law, a Pharisee,
a Bralnnin, a broad-cloth Philistine in whom is no trace of a
sweeter and truer morality. Hence it is that the work of
threat moral reformers often consists in awaking; men from i
slavish worship of duty, which after all is only a secondary
principle, and kindlinj^' in their hearts the warmth of that
sympathy wdiich is the earliest as it is still the safest ^uide.
Buddha's five f^reat prohibitions are: 1. Not to take the
life of any .sentient creature. 2. Not to defraud or oppress
any one. '^. Not to seduce a woman. 4. Not to lie, nor
ecpiivocate, nor use abusive lauffua^^e. 5. Not to intoxicate
one's self. The first four of these are clearly dictates of
sympathy. The fifth in prohibiting drunkenness is in some
ways dependent on sympathy, in others it is concerned more
with self-respect, which will subse(|uently be shown to be a
ilerivative from sympathy.
In the sunnnary of Buddha's teachinj^, as j^iven by Bishop
Bif;-andet, in which, as we are there told, " he has within a
nai-row compass condensed almost all moral virtues," sym-
pathy is the fundamental note. " Let every one minister to
the wants of his father and mother : provide all the necessaries
for his wife and children: bestow alms: as.sist his relatives
and friends ; let him bear respect to all men : be ever humble ;
be easily contented ; <;'ratefully acknowledge favours ; be
patient, and abstain from intoxicating' drink." The last of
these instructions is not necessarily moral at all ; the rest are
moral and all purely sympathetic. {Legend of Buddha, i., 123.)
" Overcome anger," says Buddha, " by not being angereil; over-
come evil by gouJ : overcome avarice by liberality ; overcome
falsehood by truth." (Udanavarga, xx., \H.) iJarth speaks of
the Buddha as " that finished model of calm and sweet majesty,
of infinite tenderness for all that breathes, and compassion for
II !
SYMPATHY AS A NATCKAL MOHALITY,
15
all that surter,s. To imitate him was a hij^her law than that con-
tained in rules and precepts." ( The Rclii/iims of luiUti, p. 1 1 S.)
So, too, the imitation of the loving and compassionate
nature of Jesus is the hi<rhest morality in the ethics of
Europe; and the Apostle Paul expressly says that " Love is
the fultilliiifr of the law". (Romans xiii. 10.) Without
notahle exception, save that of Kant, the moi-al philosophers
of modern times have found in a right sympathy the true
hasis of moral feelinj^. Adam Smith ilevotes one of his two
great books to the thesis. In his T/worij of Moral ,<eiitl-
ments, a work which, if its author had partaken of the evolu-
tionary knowledge and spirit absorbed so freely by this
age from the genius of Darwin, Spencer, Wallace and
Haeckel, might have been the most conspicuous lamlmark in
all the history of moral philosophy, he contends that sympathy
is the basis of right conduct. He ttlls us (Bohn's edition, p.
27), that "to restrain our seltish, and to indulge our benevo-
lent affections, constitute." the perfection of human nature " :
and again (p. 214), "The man of the most perfect virtue is lie
who joins to the most perfect connnand of his own original
and .selfish feelings, the most ex([uisite sensibility to the
feelings of others". Nay further, he show,'-- (part vii. ) liy
analysis of all the moral pliihjsophies which liad preceded
him, that, however complicated and obscure the various
sy.stems might be, sympathy, in the opii.ion of all, is the
foundation of right conduct.
Hume, wi-iting at the same date, in that celebrateil in(iuiry
of his, wherein, working out hints of S])inoza and earlier
philosophers, he expounded the principle of utility as the
basis of morals, is careful to give an explanation of utility as
he understands it, which too many since then have neglected.
The natural function of benevolent feelings, as he considers,
is to minister to the true utility of the race. He concludes
his book with this well-reasoned proposition : " Sympathy is
the chief source of moral distinctions ". (Bk. iii., part iii.,
sect, vi.) He has many elo(iuent passages on the great natural
strength of the sympathies, and he shows that the reasonable
indulgence of these is essential to a man's own happiness and
indispensable to the existence of society. Thence he derives
t
fi
!»
h
10 THE ORIGIN \ND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
A* wJiole force of tht; inoviil sentiments, " Sympathv," he
sajs, " is a very powerful principle in human nature, and it
produces our sentiment of morals." (Bk. iii., part iii., sect, i.)
J. S. Mill is a little unfortunate in the manner in wliich
he lias cast the utilitarian aspect over what is essentially a
sympathetic process: for the failure of the utilitarians is not
s^ much that there is any want of real truth in their system,
as that their phraseoIo«,fy and cold analysis fail to satisfy the
instincts and ideals of humanity. It is as thouj^h a man of
small iHsthetic perception were oHerin^^ a very ti-ue ami just
criticism of a yreat poem or strikino- picture. Mere prosr
scansion oH the poem or footrule measui-inor of the perspective
of the picture, however demonstrably sound, will n.ver
satisfy the mind that is charmed with a tine warmth of feeling
in poem or pictuiv. So the application of the prosaic principle
of utility to a thinj;' so essentially testhetic as the noblest
morality is never grateful to our finer nature. To the in-
dividual in actual life the test as to the Tightness of an action
is never supplied by a consideration of its usefulness to the
race. The true test he finds within himself in his instinct of
sympathy. Tlie phihjsopher is justiHed in proving that these
sympathies have grown up and exist within us in oi-iler to
minister to the use and preservation of the species, and it
thus happens that while morality is founded on sympathy,
sympalhy is founded on utility. It would be doing a gross
injustice to men such as Bentham, Austin and Mill to
imagine that they were not themselves clear-sightrd enough
fully to perceive this chain of r.,i]..sation. But they lost Uieir
hold of a general assent by suffering the middle i i ' t , .[r- ,,
out of view, and the public, which acts rightly, not by reason
of any abstract notion of utility, but by the inward impulse
of sympathy and duty, has always resented what seemed to be
:' ■■ application of a cold and pragmatical principle to a warm
an. •at-' -fill s(>ntinient. Yet the essential basis of utilitarian
etiiic- ■.; .iympnthetic; it proclaims as right jhat which pro-
motes <.o noblest hapr '.less of the race. Mill's " standard of
moraiity ' lonsists of 'those rules and precepts for human
conduct, by the observance of which an existence of high and
pure happiness may be secured to all mankintl, and not only
SYMPATHY AS A NATURAL MORALI fY. I7
to them, hut HO far as the nature of thin-rs a.hi.its to fho
whole .seTitiei.t creation " '^ ' " ^^'^
{J''c M tlu.ls of ttlnr,, book iv.), reeo-nises the appeal to
syupathy to he ahuo,st the sa„,e thin, a.s^n appeal ^utH t
but h.. unnecessarily .Hverts the ,uesti.>n \ Von, itsf
ehanne by speaking of ti,e ;,/...,. 'of syn.pathy. inl 1 /
o > on the pleasure ol ..■at.fie.I syn.pathy stands on a son.e-
r orr^V"^'-- '""' '' ^''^' ■^>-I-^'".V winch in,H.ls
^ huself from a hn.lo-e n.to a coM and turbulent strean. :
ule he runs round to plunge in fron. the hank he may have
clohes, of the considerable chance his wife has of bein- a
^Y''^'^^' -/•' -« children of hein. orphans. He feels^u'
t!Z\Z '"" J"-^^!'^'^!;- '-t'-'^'-t an.er that the vvon.an
•should luue been so w.lfu], and yet it is in.possible for him
to stand callously by and see her ,lrown. I he tried o
^ a so.n.tlun, would boil in his blood, and as the^h ,^ f^
take the plunp and face all the inconveniences. Possibly
enough after he has ,.ot the woman out he n.ay ^Z
Dleisnr.,bl,.. . r I ^'^'^•"""^•- '« by no means essentially
elves but n obedience to certain inoperative inst nets which
Have been bequeathed us by our ancestors, because if tty
>vc should never have existed. But in spite of the va.-ue and
ncoi,clu.n.e termination of his book, sid.wick seen.: t^ me
ac ept the view that syn.pathy forms the ultimate basis o
nu^ahty, and that the oro^ress of morals by which the histo.y
of 1 uman .societies lu.s l.en characterised has lar^^ely depended
on t^ increasing, "capacity for sympathy in an a^Cr^e nL,d:r
of tlie community (p. 452).
.fj] ^ ^'T'-':'' ^''' '''•"^^i/''"^''"" '" ^thic. a<lopts, as his
il
li
IS
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THK MOUAL INSTINCT.
rl^
huinaii spirit" wiiich is aiialo^wis to that whicli I luiv vaUvd
Uh tlu' morality of idoal beauty, and which I propose subso-
(lueiitly to show is developed out of sympathy. To (Jreeii
also this point is clear, thouj;'h it is occasionally presented
in somewhat transcendental form. He savs (p. 282;: "The
development (jf morality starts fVom the primary )-ecoo'nition
of an absolute and common <.<)()d which nnist be ^'ood for all
men," and that "the idea of a true o'ood first took hold of men
hi the form of what was needed to keep the membei's (jf a
family comfortably alive". He thus with complete trutii -oes
back to the sympathy of the family circle for the first dawn
of morality : and he thinks, whicli is also beyond denial, that
this is til.' utmost notion of ;^x)od " possesse.Tbv some wholly
savao'c tribes " (p. 2()0). He considers that as these primitive
ideas spread, the sympathies of the family " emlii'aced a widei-
area of pei'sons and a larovr conception of happiness". ■ The
true development of man," he tells us (p. 18.")), "consists in so
hviiif.' that the objects in which self-satisfaction is habitually
souoht cmtribut.' to the realisation of a true i.lea of what
is liest for man."
Leslie Stephen, in his Srlntn' ,,/ h'f/nrs^ p. 170, says. " [n
some sense or other, morality always implies action fnr the
Ji'oo,! of others," which 1 tak.- to mean that moral conduct
is necessarily the outcome of sym[)athy aetin- .Jiivctly or
indiivetly; <liivctly as the instinct of the individual, or in-
'liivctly in the form of duty which is the result of the pres-
sure .)f the sympathies of the community upon th.' actions of
the individual.
I'rofessor liain says that " the obvious intention of morality
'^ the IX 1 of mankind". (Mr„f„l „,nl Moral Srir.n;', p.
4:i4.) Kl.s,.where (p, 45;}) he analyses the basis of th,. nioiv,]
faculty into d, Prudence, (2) Sympathy, an.l (.'{) Otlnr K,,,,,-
tions. These other emotions are mostly such as I have classed
amon^' the sympathies, hv\un; chiefly parental and conju-al
arections: the a'sthetic emotions which are also indn/le,? f
shall .leal with and show t.) b.. .,f sympathetic origin wh..n
tr.'atin<-- of the morality of i.Ual beauty. Thus, with th.'
e.xc'pti.m of pru.Ienee, all liain's ..ssential ei,.|iienls of ,„,,i'als
lire sympathetic. As for pru.Ienee, 1 refuse to a.lmit it as a
SVIIPATHV AS A NATCBAL MOBALITY. J.)
basis Of tnu. morals, l,„t ,,|,„|| „,|^ „,. . , .
i"«» against an 'tl,or a i' 1 « l.P 1";''' T'-^T '«"'■
Mr:;^^:;;:.r"":-"^^"""^'or^z;i:r
'"omhty ,s ,a„vly selfish, an.l arises IVo.a a m-u.l'n o
avo..l,n,u. tl.e resentment of our felloM-s I I , ' "'
-J'- 'l-lin^' with the ^n.owth or - ;,. fc ;■" "■ ''
of the sense of responsihiHty "levelopn.ent
^^^^Meantime we con. to the foliowin, very evident, leH
Syn.pathy is wise when it sacnHces no nltin,atelv .■.v.fe.-
nis::.;; *:■""■■ ' ^ ■» ■ '"■'"';::.-
A nu,MR.,. nniy »yn,,„.,ln-s.. will, I„t d,il,l ,vl,ni i, l,„. .,>
; ;■, ;''»»--™W': -im., y,.t ir l„,. „yn„»,thy i» „ ,
::"c;;;i;r::;:;i: "■-«« •"■'■- -;f
•"*';*» ;l''limti"n "f morality coinciil.'s with tl„. vi,.w. r
.. nt ,.a™.ns ,,y reason of tin: r„et tin.t „ I „ ..l
,,''■;■ "" '.'■'■ """■' "'•■ ""■ si-i-. But it ,„,;■•:
'l.mn t., I,,, more n> accor,lai,cv ivitl, tl„. i,l,.«san,l tl„. f ^ ^
"""»""""■■«"'«"■•"- "--v. u,sir;;i!t,':::;x
» •
i II
20 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
!
I!
ill
li
for a week to nurse a sick neighbour, she is little concerned
with the good of the species in general ; nor iloes such an idea
ever cross her mind. Her kindness is the result of sympathy
awakened at the sight of sutt'ering.
The only tirst-rate writer to whom such a detinition of
morality would be distasteful is Kant, with whom all morality
must be founded on a sense of duty. To him who is naturally
truthful, who is clear as the open day in his honesty because
he loves truth, Kant will give but little credit. For he acts
only as his feelings prompt him, not at the voice of duty.
Only the man who would like to lie and cheat but refrains
from doing so out of a sense of duty is to be reckoned truly
moral. This might seem like a travesty of Kant's views. Take
then his own words {Metaphysic of Morals, Abbot's transla-
tion, p. 14) : "There are many mimls so sympathetically con-
stituted that, witlKjut any other motive, they find a pleasure
in spreading joy around them, and can take delight in the
satisfaction of others so far as it is their own work. But I
maintain that in such a case an action of this kind, however
proper, however amiable it may be, has nevertheless no true
moral worth, but is on a level with other inclinations. For
the maxim lacks the moral import, namely, that such actions
be done from duty, not from inclination."
There is much in Kant's exposition of his views that is
strikingly noble, bvit the whole system is based on two un-
tenaV)le propositions, the first being this, that "unless an
action be done strictly as a duty, it can have no moral worth "
(p. 23). In that case if I have two children, one of whom
loves me, and finds a cheerful ilelight in obeying me, its
obedience is in no way moral, while the other, who has
no love for me, and wouM prefer to disobey me, but from a
sense of duty renders a strict oljedience, is alone worthy
of credit as a moral creature. One mother tends and trains
her children with loving devotion : another would prefer
to spend her time at balls and gaieties, but from a sense
of .luty she nn'nisters with care to her family, in Kant's
view the latter alone is to
be ii'ranted the )iraise of moral
com
won
luct. If I have two servants, one of whom hates me and
l.l nuu'der me, but that a sense of duty keeps him out of
I !
SYMPATHY AS A NATURAL MORALITY.
21
crime: the other loves me and woul.l not sufier harm to be-
fall me, thou^rh his life shoukl be forfeit: this latter is no-
wise moral, but the former is a ^rood man. These, though
so foreign to our reasonable views, are the conceptions of
morality which Kant repeatedly emphasises. " It is Just in
this that the moral worth of the character is brought out,
which is incomparably the highest of all, namely, that he is
beneticeiit, not from inclination, but from duty" (p. 15). It
is a view which would shut out from the credit of morality
all the beneficence of the world's ]nost famous philanthro-
pists who have uniforndy been much more actuated by the
inclination to do good than by a mere sense of d^.t3^ It is a
view radically opposed to that of Jesus, and to that of Buddha,
whose teachings always I)ade men think less of duty and
more of love: not that duty is abolished or lessene.l, but tliat
it is a motive of poor etiiciency unless vivified and warmed
by the natural sympathies.
Kant's second misconception, as I view it, is his notion of
the origin of the sense of duty. For he considers duty to be
" the necessity of acting from respect for the law/' thus
making duty subse([uent to law and arising from it: wherea.s
in truth the law is subseipient to duty and springs from it, as
I shall eventually show. Laws are altered because our sense
of duty alters : we are ail accustomed to test the i-ightnes.s
of a law by our sense of duty, and the truly moral man in
general acts without reference tt) the law, often in opposition
to it. It is my duty to educate my children: I do not in-
(|uire whether the law tells me to do so oi' ii(jt. If the great
majority of a conununity conceive the education of cliililren
to be a duty they may pass a law wliicl: declares it to be a duty
for all. Vet in spite of that, men may still have their own
notions on the subject. Theiv arc lliousands of people who
feel it their duty not to have their children vaccinated even
tlumgh the law may direct that they should: and if they
reasonaI)ly believe that a small public good would by vac-
cination be purchased at the expense of great and life-long
misery to their children they have a duty to resist the law,
(!ven as the parents of Closes had a duty to resist that decree
wliich ordered the death of theii- male children. No one feels
i
i
22
THE OUKi.X AM) GROWTH OF THE MOHAL INSTINCT.
it his <lnty to stone to death the sabbath breaker thouoh aji
explicit law ol' the iiible coimuan.ls it. Laws orow obsok^te
as tlie sense of duty vvhicli oave tliem birth is traiisi'ornied
aini.l altering- grades of sympathy. And no just law can exist
without a sense of duty to bring it into existence. Thus Kant's
philosophy of morals, however louical as a philosophy, fails
in all respects before the criticism of induction. We" know,
as a matter of fact, that in the development of human society
it is not law which gives rise to duty, nor <lutv which is the
foundation of morality: but that morality " originati's in
sympathy, crystallises vaguely into duty, and duty thus
foi-med Hnds a voice and a deHnite scope in law. Then law,
by reactive force, gives new strength to duty, and duty a<ld.s
continuity to sympathy.
ft
Ax A.VALVSIS OF THE VaIUOUS VlUTFES.
I shall conclude this chapter l)y compiling from the
ordinary text-books of moral philo.sophy a complete list of
the more important virtues, and showing that wliile most of
them are themselves directly sympathetic, others are indirectly
dependent on .sympathy for their existence. Tliere is a third
class which are not moral in Liiemselves, but become moral
only when their object is .sympathetic.
Virtues wliicli
arc e.sseiitially
fi.viiiputln'tic.'
1. IJi^aevoliMicc
2. (ii'tiero-iity.
3. Pat'-idtisiii.
4. I'afienc.'.
"). Toler'aiKH'.
''• ("iMU'tt'sy.
7. IIiiiK'sfy.
«. Truth. '
Virtues wlijrli iire
iiiilireflly 'iiiseil mi
.syiiipiitliy.
I. ItevereiU'C.
'-'. Hiunility.
li. Fidelity.
4. Cliiistitv.
\'irtile.s wliii'h iuv unnal
iiiily ill .so fur as tliey
lire .syniiiatlietie.
1. Courajfo.
2. .Justice.
li. I'rudeiu-e.
4. Teniiieraiied.
5. CMeaniiiu'ss.
Benevolence and generosity are, of course, active operations
of a sympathy which linds pleasure in the happiness of others,
and pairiotisn. is clearly a .sympatlietic virtue. Patience and'
tolei'ance are more imssivo forms in which we repress the
SYMPATHY AS A NATURAL MOHALITV.
28
l)roiuptiii<;'.s of i-csciituR'nt or .li.scoiiteiit in onltT not to cuuse
unluii)pinu.s,s. Courtusy is always felt to !)(■ ovnuinc only
wluMi it spi'iiiu's Injiii a real wish to set (others at their ease
and make them comrortahle. Ruskiii trulv says (Sr.sonw,
chI f.l(irs,i,.5i): "Men are for ever ,ulo.Hr precisely in
l)i'opoi'tion as they are incapal)le oF sympathy ",
The orioiu of honesty as a moral viitue is clearly
sympathetic. It is that f.'elino- whieh prevents us from in-
Jurino^ our nei^ihhour by .lefrau.lino^ him of any portion of
his pi-operty. So also ti'uth prevents us from nn'sleadino- any
pei'son to his hurt, or to (jur own interest. Hut the essenti-
ally sympathetic nature of truth is seen in the fact that to
misinform a pers(jn for his own ,o(„„l is eonsidered prais.;-
worthy. Some severe and impraeticahle moralists would
deny this ; hut their views are at variance with the necessary
practic (jf every conununity If we see a man intoxicated
or very anory and likely to do another a mischief, or else to
make a ridiculous spectacle' of himself, no one will condenui
us for feio'uin.;' a cause to lea<l him away. If a man by
accident treads on your corn and immediately shows his con-
cern by askino- youi' pardon and liopino. ]„' lui.s not >;Teatly
pained you, it is a nobler thin-;' to suppress the sij.,ms of your
pain and a.ssure him it is of little conse(iuence, than to ttdl
him he lias hurt \-ou very badly. If your hostess expresses
her regret tliat the beef is so tou^^h, and is sorry that you are
not likely to en]oy your .[inner, it would be unpai'donable,
whatever you may tin ik, if you replied that it is the toughest
meat you ever ate. A reasonable tact will forbid you to say
that the meat is really most tender, when in Fact it is clearly
not so. People who in the daily inteirourse of life ailopt ."'ich
a tone sutler irom a want of sincerity. But the courteous
man will be ouided by tact, which is always a sympathetic
appreciation of circumstances, and so will steer a middle
course between the brutal truth and a downriu'ht lie
I'or after all it i.s the meanness of the purpose that is the
essence oF a lie, not the mere variance From actual fact. In
diplomacy, men sometimes tell the truth for the express pur-
pose of deceivin--'. It is none the less a lie For beiny' true. On
the other hand, thinj;'s oF exactly the same iho;vei' of untruth-
24 THE OBIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
fulness are moral or inunoral entirely according to the relation
they bear to sympathetic impulses. I say to a friend that if
he IS fToing past the post office on his wav home he might
oblige me by dropping in a letter. He perhaps ha.l no inten-
tion of going borne by that road, but he knows that if he said
so I should on no account suffer him to disarrange his plans
He tells me he was inten.ling to go that way, and takes the
letter. Another, but meaner man, fully intende.l to go that
way, but so soon as I ask him the .juestion pretends that he
had not been so purposing, but that to oblige me he will most
willingly change his route. The amount of departure from
the e.xact truth is the same in each case, but the first we '^hall
certainly not brand as a lie, for it concerns no one but the
man himself which way he had inten.Ie.l to go, and his con-
cealment of what had l,een his true plan has a kindlv ol.ject
Ihe secoml we despise as a verital,Ie lie because the purpose is
the mean one of obtaining a degree of thanks that is not
deserved.
In speaking at a later place of morals as an ideal of JH^autv
I shall have something to say of truth as a .|ualitv of more'
transcendental character, but in ordinary evervdaV life the
truth cannot be freely spoken. The wise^loctor will help the
.lespondent patient by assuming a little more hopefulness than
he really feels ; the kindly teacher will encourag.. tl... slow
pupil by a word of prais(. that woul.l otluTwise not be jiistiH-
nble ; a good clergyman will sometimes seem to know nothin-
oi the trouble which is Invwiiig within a family till the time
comes when be may be able to set it right.' In all cases,
tact, wh(Mi its pu.'po.s,. is kindly, is amply justified bv all
<)1 us m or.linary lif,. : and tact implies tl... softening or
partial suppression ..f such truth as is calculate to "nve
pam. *"
In all cases the turpitude of a lie is determined by its
sympathetic relationships. A schoolboy tells a lie for the
express purpose of bringing another into trouble. Th,. fault
18 as nn^an and black as it can be. Another schoolboy tells a
he, not to injure any one, but merely to escape a punishment
which otherwise he must sutfrr. The falsehood is a mean one •
but still not half so bad as the otlu
er. The immorality of the act
SYMPATHY AS A NATURAL MORALITY.
25
consists HI l„s havm^r withliekl from the teacher infornuition
which he had a nj^ht to know. He has therefore misle.l that
teacher and beneHte.1 himself at the expense of another. A
th.rd schoolboy whose younj^er brother has committe.l a fault
screens hnn by declarin.i. hin.self the culprit and takinxr the
conse<,uences It is a fault, for here a.o-ain the teacher has
been wronged by the concealment of a truth which he had a
right to know ; but it is by no means despicable, for the pur-
pose of ,t was kindly and sympathetic. In short, if it i.s the
case, a.s mo.st of us will agree, that an ill-natured truth is a
worse thing than a kindly faisehoo.l which makes for peace
and mutual goodwill among our fellows, then we can see how
even in its details, the morality of truth is dependent on'
sympathy. But ,n its broad features we are entitled to say
hat, as a he is a thing which wrongs our neighbour hv wil-
tu ly mi.sleadmg him, truth is a virtue to which without any
other gui.lance we must I),. M bv svmpathy
Few will dc.ny the esseutiall.;- sympathetic nature of the
virtues .set forth in the second column. Humilitv an.l rever-
ence are .pialities the reverse of aggressiveness an<l self-asser-
tion. I hey are sympathetic because tliey teach us habitually
to subordn.ate our own claims to the claims of others. Fidelity
IS a virtue because by promoting a general tru.stfulne.ss it a.lds
o he repose and happiness of the eommunitv. Whenever it
tails to present that a.spect it ceases to he moral. U I have
u-lertaken to sell a certain quantity of goods to a man,
hdchty to my prounse is in general a virtue. Bm if the
goods to be sold are barrels of gunpowder, and 1 subse.p.ently
Jhscover that they are to be used for the de.struction of Pa'
bament hdehty .-i.,-ht e.mceivably becom,. immoral. In no
ease, inde .d, ,s its morality absolute. It is always completely
dependent on Us sympathetic relationships. If I pj,;,, to
^o .somet ung which a friend has aske.l me to do, but that
vtl e r ITf '^'' .'"^■"'"'•^ ""■ ^'"'^ '"' '^-'■^ it would be
atlei hirmlul than beneHcial to have it done, there woul.l be
o morality ,n my insisting upon keepin. that promise. If
th
ere are no other consid
concern us two, T act most
solemnly
enition.s involved .save ti
inon
lose which
illy by not doing what I liad
Pi-<^>nised to <lo. So completely is the rightfulness of
<!
f
I i
III I
20 THH OHKH.V AND (GROWTH OF THH MOHAL INSTINCT.
NUch vi,-t,u..s us ti.lelity a.,.l h.yulty n.nl th. like .lependent («,
tlu'ii- ivhitioii to s\-iiii)fitliy.
\V(. I.avr al.va.ly se...., wl.il.. .U.iliiiu. wit), tlie ^nwth oF
conjupil sympathy, I.ow tlu- virtu, of cimstitv in its l.onu.li.r
practical lo.n., not in that chamct.T of i.k'al hoauty to he
hcivattcr ,iiscusse,l, is essentially sympathetic. In a primitive
con.muuity adultery is forhi.l.len as heino. an interference
with the no-hts of property paid for hy the hushan.l : on the
\yon,an s s,de a truer cha.stity ^.rows up in pn.porti.m as art'ec-
.on reaches her to avoid all cans., of jealous unhappiness in
licr husband; at a ,nuch later date it <levelops on the side of
tlie man ni proportion as affection prompts 1dm to avoid con-
"ecfons wluch u-ould o.ive pain to his wife. The nohlest
l'->,ul>t oi ehastity is reached in that fond devotion wherehv
the youth and maiden, havino- „nce for all in a lifetime forn.ed
a true attachment and hecme united, r.-nmin inviolably houn.l
1" M.eh nu.tual consideration that neither couhl so much as
•''••■am of woun.Iino. the otlier hy sli^'ht, or col.lne.ss, or inc.m-
•stancy. t'ehbacy receivers the praise of chastity only so Ion-
as It has a sympathetic purpose: without such pun>o,se its
moral character is dubious. The Catholic priest who rcn.ains
unmarrv.d n, onjer that he may all the more concentrate Ins
thou-hts on the welfare of his Hock wins the praise of riuht
teel.nc.-. The ^.„,i ,,,,j„ ,.,.„..^i„„ „n„uuTie.l so that she nuiy
ten.l an old and helpless parent: or the man who checks his
inclination to marry because his m(,tlier and sisters would
thereby sutter-these are entitled to have their celibacy counted
o them for morality. Even the man or woman who, havini--
formed a romantic attachment an.l lost the beloved ohiect
remains thereafter single by rea.son of unbroken .levotion is
sure to wn. our admiration. Not so the professed misanthro-
pijst or m,,so«yn.,st. who remains sino^le because too surly or
•sclhsh to mate. Not so the hermit of old who Hed into the
wilderness, .shunning- his fellows and de.spi.sino- all the sweet
.sympathies of hon.e life, of conjugal helpfulness and parental
interests. I he ravine's of the ;5ealots of the fifth century about
woman as the .snare of Satan, the bait of hell, sound to us in
no way moral. Rather indeed in their innate coar,seness and
m their revealmont of the sensual passions as the onlv'con-
SVM.ATHV AS A NATUKAr. ^rOHAMTV ^f
across t)H. Xia" r r nr ' '^''''"" ^^ '^'''' ^^^^" «^^'^'"
«ivat e„„ra,. '];;.• ^" -- was .h-owncl therein, show.-d
ta r.-vf .,f • , ' ' ' ''"'*"«■'' t" ^^'^ill^- oahnly i„ front of •>
ta.^et at wiueh c-ontinual Hrino- is o,>i on I . .. L,'
V'tuous on that account. Cotu^a,;. nnv ' ""''"
as when .h-snlave.l \n- '.; i " "^ '' "^'^"""y n'unoral,
beco.ues n.ora > 'L 'fr'''^'!'' "'• ''^■■'--^<' --ssin. It
i^itsavesaH:^.;:;,::;;:7^:'-'^^'-^<-
^ecisely the same .listinction annlies in fl,
-- „f ,«in« t,,i„,„ ,„,„, i,, ,t, iv : i: ::,";::,;," "■"
tioii as tliey are FouikKmI on H, I • "^ propoi--
beeon.e nial virtrs •"4>pna.s,s of others do they
X
oristhecasedirterentwitl
iion-niorai so Un
1 reoard t
UK
'«■ as It IS not synipatiiet
'Mustice: it is n
»'0"ey, it is perfectly just that 1 s|
ic.
IF
lerely
a man owes
luuld ask him for it
i
I I
28
THE ORIGIN AND GltOWTH OK THE MOKAL INSTINCT.
I i
that I .shoul.l, if iuhmIFuI, nm- him for it. But such assertion of
my ri^rlits dot's not make nie any tlie more a ^roo;! man. But
if I i^o to niy nei^dihour and say to him that, thou^d- 1,^ is
unaware of it, I have done him an iajury and wish to make
rei)aration, such an act of Justice is truly moral. Herbert
Spencer (h-aws the same di.stinction witli o;rmt care (/iVA/r.s',
part iv., 20), hut lie extends tlie nu'aninM' of the word moral
fai- Ihyoi.d its .scope in ordinary usa<,re. If a man (h-ops a
weight ujK.n his toes, it is ju.st that lie .should suHer ; and
Sp.Micer would declare the se(|Uence to he moral. In ordinary
lan^uauv, the matter would he neither moral noi' immon.i.
If a man has IVe,|Ufiitly cheated me, it is Just eiiouoh that I
slKmld <listnist him. Sp,.ne.T would ivnard my drstrust as
moral, whereas the ordinary view would he that while it is a
natural eiiou,iili result, it could no more ],e called moral than
it could he called immoral.
So lono- as my notion of justice o-,h's no fuvthrr tlian the
vindication of my own inteivsts, my own ri^-t.t.s. my own
feelinns, it is no way distinctively moral. What Spencer calls
"altruistic justice" is that which is tridy nioi'al, and, as lie
.says, it is "sympathy which makes the altrui.stic .sentiment of
Justice possible ". '{'he .same view is i-lahorately urovd in tlw
la.st chapter of Mill's (11/ Ihirltdi ism . Justice" then becomes
truly moi'al. when, in its <,^eneral outlook upon soeiety. it
strives to eipiali.se the opportunities of happiness. \Vli,.re
claims conflict, that which promises the hiulu'st sum of total
liap])iiie.ss mu.st prevail, is it Just to make this poor mother
(;ive 111) ''^'1' fcvei-strickeii ehild to be tended at the fever
hospital ' it will almost bivak hei- heart to part with it.
Hut only thus can the b'ver lie stamped otu. Only thus can
p-eater unliappine.ss be averted from many homes. Tlirn it
is Just that her happiness should yiv,. way before tlie o'eiieral
interests. If jier .sense of justice induces he." y-enerously to
aciiuiesce, liei' action is es.sentially moral. But the action of
the community, thouoh Ju.st, is not moral ; beiui;- actuated
only by a .selHsh prudence. \'et if each member of it is
thinkin^i,^ less of the po.ssible sorrow to his own home, than
of the woes of others, such united action minht easily enough
assume a distinctly moral complexion.
SVMi'ATKV AS A NATriiAI.
MOHALITY
29
I
It >,s clear tlu>„, Mwit uh..,, tin- Jovv .len.un.ls justic- i„ the
Hl.ape „ |„s pound of ll.sh, su.-l, justi,... is not necessarily
••""■al : l.ut u. the lan.nws ,leHniti„n ^iven ,n tl.e Iv.tiint.s of
.rustnuan. aeeonlino. to whiel, <'j„.stice is the constant willin--
ness to <,nve to each person his own riohts." the virtue 'is
c..irly moral, an.l is, n.oreover. syn.pathetic in its hasis.
Wh^en he p«s.sess,on of ri^M.ts of n.y own lea.ls „.e to con.-
I»vh..n, that others have ri^rl.t.s ; when the a. uoyance which
1 t<'<'l . my nohts are .lisreo-ar.le,! o.- -lestroy. ,1 lea.ls n.e to
e..n>,.rehen.l that others nn.st surti.r in the same way il' I
. .sreuanl or .lestn.y their ri^rhts, then the next step in the
Wevelop.nent of justice occurs wh,., I learn to forbear intlictin.-
up.... others those pains or annoyances which I nivs.-lF .lislikc^
Iho n,:.tter otters scope Un- fu.'ther i.ivestioation ; but
e....uoh ,s clear tor o,u- present pu.-pos,. when we see with
Herbert Spence'- ^Duta of m.rs, p. 14,S) that "synipathv is
the root ot b.,th justice and benetice.ice -. Even Kant' in
•spite oi h.s emphasis of the comnmndino- ,lui,ns of duty is
atterall compelled to Hud his roots of n.orality in the same
basis. I<or the crown of hi.s whole system is what he calls the
p.-act.cal imperative- of rio'ht con.luct: and this supreme
max.m runs thus: " So act as to treat Inunanitv, whether in
thn.e own person, or in that of any other, in ev^ry case as an
.'..d withal, never as a means only ". {Md„i>h,,slr of Morals
p. 4/,; This, as I understand it, resolves itself into a wise
synipathy that ministers to the o,.„craI o^o.] of humanity.
I h.is the most scientiHc analysis of morals serves only to
.•eveal the essential truth of the teachino. of Jesus an.l of
Huddha. For the ethics of the o..e centre.l in this command-
ment, "that ye love one another" rjohn xv. 12): of the other
... the .loble sayino-, "He who is ].atient with those who hate
will hud peace: this is the spirit of relioion ". (Udanavar<a
XIV.. 11.) And it is therefore clear that this .pialitv "of
sympathy whose oi-ioi„ was so humble, that in tish and r.^ptile
Its lunction was merely to facilitate the hatchin- of the better
type in a world of ceaseless struoo.],. ^nd destruction, has risen
by pe.-fect continuity to form the basis of the most beautiful
ol all things that earth contains : a moral nature swayed by
impulses of pure and tender sympathy.
m
1 1
.^1
CHAPTER XV.
<;JU)\VTH OF THK SKNSE OF DUTY.
The XATriii; ok Dity.
SyMPA-rHY HloM. ,„ay f„nn an ..ffid-nt n.nmlfty, an,l no
"..ral.ty winch is w.tlmut it can truly satisfv the nccls of
uuuan nature. Vet all n.orality takes a nohler aspect when
the sense of external duty lends it stren^4h an.l .li^nitv: a
yc-^Hol.ler when an n.ternal self-respect arises to supplement
hat sense: an< the noblest of all when to these is a.lde.l a
feehn.. of the ..U-al beauty of moral excellence, of the con.eli-
^.ess .m.l priceless ^^wth of pure and incorruptible aspirations.
Of auty the prime function is to lend permanence and even-
ness to the somewhat capricious play of sympathy, which is
too apt to va.y fr,m. person to person, and even in the same
person from time to time. Sympathy is the motive power-"
yet the sense of duty is re.piired to act as a sort of rty-wheel'
a.i.l o,v.. stea.hness to its spasmo.lic ener^-ies. We see how'
when some »Teat calamity has lille.l for a while the news-
pupors, sympathy works upon the hearts of the public and
subscriptions How in broad streams to alleviate the woes of
widow and orphan. The volume of that stream may .lepen.l
on a pictures,pu.ly written article, it may often be immensely
increase.1 by some caprice of accident not essentially alterin.r
the sutierinos under^rone, yet with power to set the ch.n-.ls o'f"
pity vibratnif.- in a million hearts. I„ England there are
■some 20,000 widows left every year for whom no public
appwil IS ma.le, thoui,d. their position must very often be
destitute enouoh: but if their husban.ls have been .h-owned
"I some appallin^r wreck, or smothered in some luirrowi,,,.
nime catastrophe, they are raised above want for the rest o7
< J no win ,,]■• THK
•SKNSK OK ])( TV.
leir
th
npasmodic outbursts, but tl
sonic ()
M
iv.-s. In ..very cas,- sym^mthy is Hal.I.
tlu.
It' sens,- of ,|„t\.
Hiid (listributt's it
•surplus nicr-y ercat..! i„ tl
to tlicse
I'iii'rics I'orwanl
iiiorc
!<■ one sti-ikiiK
ease
ipocial opportuiiity „r ,ii,,,ctlv t.HU'l
•■\-"'"ly ...to ,.tl„.rs that has-.. ha,|
It
IS
a capital sti-okc \\n- tli
i.i- tl
no
I"' t'liiotioiis.
can tako a wt-altl
I' .i.ai.
i«i;r (jf a hospital wl
•'I'h.i'rs with th
•y >nai, rou.i.l all the wanls a.., I
leli
ollow. But th(! net
■si^'I.t of sutfci
iiiovc his
•i.ii
i;;': a ha.Klsonie oIummi
'•'■suit is hette.- who,, that null, 1,
• ' \vi
II
the ^eueral practice of sv,..,.. h '.s -'T "^ ""' "'^
•uM In-v , 1 • * ' ' "''t''"nt a.iy such a.lventiti.ms
-n::ri;,^z;;,;:;:;:t!s ■''•'''•'■■"' •'«■"-
:";::::::r:;::n.r: i!;,: -'fi -
' """'■ «'■""■'"« "'■^•'^n.kui „r i„„„.,ii,„, ,,;,„„, ' „ •
liecoi.iuiii- lusteai .i 1,,^,. I . • suimhi, a. id
>notive j^n "r ; ,1^^''"""'?^^'"'- '"'^ '"">- -"^-„ous
that h ; '""""' t™"^''*ni.e,l into ,l„tv \o,
that It ever becouies Mholly so tra.isforn.e.l ■ ,|,Uv is ve •
mi-ely ,,u.te i.i.lepen.lent of svi.ipathv • it is ..iu- ' • 7
r..Ji'f ^ 1 . ,>"'P'iiM\ , .1 is always easiei to Kw
polite to a chanuuif.- an.l oracious yomn- hulv thau t, i
-ru.upy ol.l bel.la.ne ; but courtc^sV to tl. .. ""'^'^
^^ -nipathy which has .-oir ; , ^/^^^^r^' "f -^«
-•H>lly.lepeii.,e.ito„a,i;utecedei.t:l:'^^^^^^^
im. duty is in part uierely a sort of control which the
'-'>-t-l syuipathies of a nian have ove.. his actions, lul
'i
:fe
m
ill
32 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
i : I
t
far as this side of its nature is concerned it only ilevelops in
more s^-steniatic form tlie morality discussed in the last
chapter I shall return a<>ain to the subject when speaking of
self-respect. But at present I sluill deal with duty in the
much commoner view of it as that rio^htness of conduct which
is actuated, not by the internal play (jf the sympathy of the
nidiviilual, but by the external intiuence exerted on his actions
by the avei'a>;e sympathies of his community. It is tliis
feature which n-jvi-s to the morality of duty a <;reater definite-
ness and permanence than the morality of pure sympathy ;
for while the latter is liable to all the variations of individual
moods and natures, the avera<,fe is a .soniethinj;- nmch more
steady and uniform. X(jt that it is ever anywhere near
to complete uniformity. Ideas of duty vary from class to
class, from nation to nation, from relio'ion to reli»'ion. Hut in
all eases the avei-a^e sympathy is less liable to chanj-'e than
that of the individual, an<l the wider the area ovei' whicli the
aveniov is taken the more approximately constant will that
average become. Thus when i-'roups of tribes have been
wel(l.'(l into a nation, the average feeling which begins to
dictate the treatment accor<led to children and to wife be-
comes more steady and more powerful by mere weight of
numbers. And as consolidation proceeds there is a tendency
for standards of .sympathy to be set up and approximate to
uniformity. For instance, the civilised nations of the world
now-a-days interact on each other in this way, and any
eccentricities which (mh; may have as to slaveiy, war customs,
treatment of poor or sick, education of the young, subjugation
of females, and so forth, tend to be reduced to uniformity.
Thus the content of a duty is determined by the average
of tlve analogous sympathy. Hut we shall tirst have to dwil
with the siuirfions of a duty—those influences which enforce
it. These sanctions are three in number. (1) The inthience
of suiTounding opinion, (-l) The inthienee of imitation. Hoth
of these are ilependent for their power on tlu' capacity of
sym[)athy posse,s,sed by the in.lividual. (.S) Obedience to
authority, whethei- soeial, civil, or religicms. This last may
or may not suj)p()se a basis of sympathy according as the
appeal ol' authority is to thi' I'motions or to the pnnlenee of
GROWTH OF THE SENSK OF DUTY. gg
the individual. Onlv in fl,„ f
matt useful ,iil„tit„.. i ■ u " toun<lat.on of a
The Sanctions of Duty.
In the most primitive human communities the sense of
the Bushmen Burchd s .'H " " "' ™f' ""•"• ''^
ri^-ht from wron-. " ^i som " , r ■ ''' '"'" '"^'" '^""^^^ "°<^
^'mrs 1 .-.or, \- ;; ^ ■ ''"'' Livm^-stones account (Miss
c r nil ^- T'f':'^^y "'''«^-««« this statement. But if we
only 7}ZX^^''f'''^!' «"•' ^^-^ --'^ ^^ ■^taton.ent is
of.Ly "Ci ekindtn"" r 7''' ^•-'■-«"t-y -tion
cheerful , J !, "? another. hospitable, an.l ^^enerally
in to ;tt r'" '":''"•" '''"■^' •" "' their character is
ni t It m,un the outcome of the feeling's of the moment Th
uix t,„. t,.e lunny perfonnance over and over a^ai^ ' Ci;
« the san.e annual when, without inten.lin,. to he un t
asmcurred your ridicule: then it is deepi; oHi. 1 r
.' """">•"• He shnnks away M-ith his tail between his
Tl
10 same experiment with
paroxysm iA' fury, hideefl
II niordcey ])uts hiin into
lo he
pet(
VOL. 11
every aniniul of Jntelli
'" Hud praised, hates to be scol.led or hum'hed
a
H'ence lik-(>,s
at.
1
64
THE ORIGIN ANn GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
I> I
Ihe savage feel.s the.se emotion.s i„ tlie .stroni.e.st form
He Iove.s praise ; he hates blan.e; he cannot en.hire to he
au^^hed a . The hrst bloodshed of natives in Victoria aro.se
from he fancy of the bluejackets to put an old suit on a
fnendly l^hick, and then lauf,di heartily at his ridiculous
appearance. They never dreamt that it was a thinjr a sava.^e
dete,sts, an.l when a shower of spears revenf,.e,l the uproarious
lau|rh, oui- honest .sailors attributed the attack to a treacherous
and ferocious spirit.
But to say that a savajre loves praise, fears reproaches
detests nd.cule is practically to say that he is lar^^elv under
the nirtuence of public opinion : an<l it is clear that the.se
teehnfv.s will tend to make his con.luct conform to the. standar.I
set up by the avera^-e sympathy. If the ^reneral feelino- i„ a
tribe IS that a certain new-born babe should be killed" then
the father incurs blame if he lets it live, and prai.se'if he
destroys it. But he wishes the prai.se. an.l would avoid the
blame, so that he feels himself not altoo,.ther free to act entirely
as he pleases If all the tribe, even the very women, deride
the man who runs away from the enemy, he will feel some
external pre.ssure impellin,^ him to coura^-e as a dutv If
they lau^di heartily at him when h,- I„,asts inordinateh- he
will learn to keep .some of his conceit to himself, and so 'the
Idea of modesty will .row upon him also as a sen.se of duty
Imitation a.s.si.sts in the d.^velopnient of this feelim.' If .i
tribe, after ccrnturies of internal adjustment, has uncon^iously
drifte.1 mto that .sort of con.luct which is best suit.'.l f.»r it's
c.rcum.stanees, the hurtful havino- b.vn checked by blame the
benehcia enc.,urao.ed by praise, tluMi the y..uno. are born into a
tairly settle.l .system. Tl.. la.l imitates his father ami the
^;irl h..r mother: and in matters wherein the custom .)f th.'
tribe IS uniform, habit o-jve.s a sin.-ular stren^ih to an i,l,.a ..f
duty which IS born merely of imitation. It is often impossibl..
to move a ,sava«e out of a line of con.luct for which he can
Kive no other reason than that it has always been the custom
ol Ills ancestors.
Where imitation an.l tli.> intluence of public opinion are
Ht work the sense of .luty must always arise. Hut they are
constantly at work wherever a do/en p..,ple .Invll too^'ther
GHOWTH OF THP ^^i-v^.t-
it±l-, ShXSK OF DUTY.
- - '■ 35
and therefore we »n I ,r ., ^ ■ ,
winch is justifierl by the best n^ ' ■^'' '' ^""^''"■^i""
lowliest tribes. ' """'^ '"''^'^"t accounts of the
J^^^ve see., that the low " , %r ''^ ""''"''^^ ^■"""■^- ^e
-va,es possess a^e ^ ^T .7" ^'"^^ *'" '''«^'-
'noment doubts that ...id , T-"?''- ^"^ "'^ ""^' fo^' a
<l««nite codes of dtv T' ""'"• '^^^''^^'^'^ '"-'" very
p"biicopi..io,.a..d . ;,;;r: 'r'^'- '^'^ ^-^p--'- '^^
pressure whose stre, . ''"'"/'^ '« '""'^^^^i-' -^-'t a
capacity of the i... vIL • ."f"''^""-' *'^ ".e e.,.otio..aI
Hv.m,e sta..da.-d of s; ,; .\,:T!^^^' V"" '' ''''^^' ^''-
i'^ felt by each p.rso.. ,ff Tl? , T '"'' "^ ^""''"^t- ''^'"^
, A.R.wa,,Le:^,'.;7;;;);;^'^^-.h7--fduty.
have live,I with con.n.u„itie •' '^"^'"'^"^"•'/"' P" •^'^■^) : "I
^•"I the East, who l.av T ''?''^"' "' ''^""^^^ ^^"'^'^''ca
p"'-'-" opi..i;„. of tl ;;;"" T'' r'^ ''""^"'"■^■^' '-^ ^''^'
ma.. sc.-up„io„,s|,. ivsneet.. fl,"'"'" . . f «^P>'e.s.sed. Each
i'metio.,s ;,f those ^^■\.:,;^''^^ "' ''-^ ^^'lows.a,.d i„.
H. Mo.^a,. tells us^t.";L";/'T''"'^''""-" ^■
a>Hl H. H..ook. Lovr,'. . '^ ' ^'■"''"'"■'^ .st.-aio.ht,-
^•'^tl..'r tha.. face the i L V""'"'" ^" «'^"""'^ -iei'Ic^
^'-■y .'--ied i.. ea..,.n;:di' rh^cr';'?''"^'^''^^"^^^
"le.. of their reco,-ds of h.„n ""'''^•' ^" ^^'' ''^'^'^
as they perceived the ho " , '"f'^' ''T ""•" '-^'^'-"t'
•'^^^-s passed ft-o... a ,i • :.7:'"r^''--""^- ^-Inaf
which i„dieated the eo..l ^""'" '" ""*' "' •^'"""«
^^J-.E,v,.chSheldo.. ?;;T'^" ^'-" P.'actice.
t'-y are the '■ slaves o ^ " ""f ^7 '" ''''' ^^'"'^'^ ^'^^
to co,..,nit suicide whe,.;,, ' rV''"' '"""'" "'^' ^^"'•"'^-^" «''«
tins, though true to a ",- i 1, ^ '" ^"'"^ "^ '''^^'•"ce : a..d "
t'tau.,xte,.tan.o„^. ourselves, is more
36
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
:i ^i
particularly true of oriental peoples. The Chinese have a
proverb that "a feelinjr of shame is akin to courage"
(Douglas, Confacianism, p. 108), meaning that a man not
naturally valiant may be made courageous by a feeling
of duty prompted only by shame. We know very well
that among ourselves t)ie formation of a strong public
opinion in regard to any detail of conduct will sooner or later
force upon the community as a duty the conduct thus
approved.
In this way, then, a corporate standard of sympathy will
thrust upon tlie individual a line of conduct to which his own
sympathies may not naturally impel him. To secure the
general praise, avoid the general blame, and escape the
general ridicule, he will imitate the general example, and
the pressure of this external force upon his actions will be
felt by him as a sense of duty.
Yet in a primitive community j; man has to accpiire for
himself his own conception of the idea that prevails in the
community. His old mother, perhaps, is growing very feeble
and burdeiiHonje. He would like to aliandon h(>r. But dare
he do so ! He may make a mistake and incur the blamo of
the tribe. So long as the community is very small he can
easily enough learn the general niiml on the matter. The
larger it grows the more difficult will it become to form an
ade(|uate estimate. It must be a relief then to the barbarian
to Hnd the general sense of the comnnniity expressed in
traditions, maxims, and eventually in laws. These he obeys
becau.se they justify his actions ; it is thus he may shun dis-
approbation : it is thus he may win applause. For those who
are sympathetic (Plough to thirst for praise and to shriidc
from blame, this is all that is necessary. A fairly accurate
compliance with the ordinances that express the general
opinion will thereby become common. But tlie community
has still strongei- incentives to oti'er than praise and bhune ;
it has punishments anil rewards : it can ai)))t'al not only to
the emotional side of a man's nature but also to his prmlence.
Yet when the corporate authority becomes strong juough to
compel obedience to its notions of riglit, then the individual,
in so far as his obedience is dictated by fear of conseciuences.
have a
feeling
GROWTH OF THE SENSE OP DUTY. ' 37
Ittr' no ,o„,e. by ,noral but only by ,ua,si-n.oral
sidell,' uTZh''\ "f "^'^^ '-''" ^"-^'-^•' ^"* that on con-
quasiTr 'or "'"" .'" "^"^""""^^ •■^ -^' moraf but only
Snt t t" " T"''^"^' '^'"■^■^•'^"*^ -"• it is un.l.niable
« su Ititu T yf';''' '^ imperceptible ,le,.ee.s into
■substitute torn,. I„,l,e,l, quasi-niorality always h-vs a
s rong tendency with tinie to ,L into son etl h^^^o v ry
lKstzn,-u,shable iron, the other. A chiM n,ay t^r fea o^
Wr o<i! T" '"' " ^'•"^''^'•1-- -ill be essentially in-
cicmt ot ,1 nianly and undeviatino- honesty
Quasi-n.oralit3- is always useful to a conuntnuty. dirterin..
^ e,n niost essentially Iron, another fonn with which I sl^U
the law .m H V :? ^ ^^" '" ^'^cunn^r compliance with
tiK law, and that ,s the first practical necessity The truer
^ ,^ .t 7'"' "'" '^ """''" ^^-■^- ''^^. ->•' -' active
fo^e^^^. ;• ""^' '''""^''^^ '^t" ^'-^ '""'•'• ^i"". there-
out ;;th,'r;'," conununity, .ather their notion oF duty
aZ r ; "^ '•^^''"^"*'^' thene va.^uer dirterences .row
ZZ^tJT ""••" "'^'T^' - tl'o ^l>ape of a definit: al-
t In o tb "■^' "■ " '""'"'•"• "'"' "-^P'--«« the general
leenng ot the conununity.
.lutv^in 7u '^\\'r"J'-''''''' '' ^"^■'^' ^'" '■•'"" the sense of
If 'f r . "" •''>""f"^^'>"'tic its nature the more easily is
tlmteeiing educed; both the content ol' the duty and its
«anct.o„« b.n, foun.led on sympathy. For of IC t
■b:,
I !
38
TITK OHUnn ANI, (iRoWTl, <.K TIfE MOHAL INSTINCT.
clear that the more kiniliy a ehil.l is hy ,li
easily will it ho tau<,fht to
•selHshiicss or aiiwr. T]
hy (li.spositioii tl
le nigre
injinv i.ono hy criu'lty or falsehood.
le more e
iisily a!
prevailiMo- tone of morals l)y reason of its
so will i
general opinion, to imitatioi
lovt'S.
t ahsorh the
susceptibility to
1 anil to the authoi-ity oF those it
A False t
antl
riiininn. heoins with the i-nder I
""•'ty, and lays the I'onnd,
"<"'i''ty. " IF yon do tl
!iti(
'orni oF appeal to
>ns wron
lis," the child is told
wl.ippe.I. IF you do that yon shall he'locke.i
Hi I <lay." By such tr
he will Follow a rio-ht
.V ni a (juasi-
■you shall 1)0
annno' ouv may break a child
np in a room
It l)ecause it is rij^-ht, i
notion why it is riii-ht.
hne oF conduct, but he will
in so that
novel' Follow
lor indeed have a sidliciently cl
car
>it a proper trainino. would rather assume tl
1. Tl
us He(|uence:
nature and tl
encouranement oF the kindlier side oF the child
e repression oF the moi'e seltish
To a child oF ten or twel
will be heai-d t<
ve months old, the w
ise mother
lieani to say: " V ou would iu,t nurc poor little sister'
<>'• •'(")•.■ douu-.e a little bit, see how hungry ho is," or "(Jive
^ick iHs toy to the little boy: ho is c.yin. because you took
. Such a trannno. in the very first year has a largo scope
o Its activity: one mother may by indulo.enco oven at that
tally ao.o allow the seltish tendencies to acquire a melancholy
pre.lom,nanco; another may so work upon the more ^onerous
tee hno-s, so cultivate and stronu-then them that thoy shall be
«i heinsolvos an internal standard oF duty such as I propose
to describe m the lollowin^' chapters.
2. The encouragement of a deference to the foelinp-s an.l
opinions ot those around it.
For before the child is a year old the influence of sur-
rounding opinion has beoun its useful work. When anythiiiir
has been ami.s, the wonls "you are a nauo-hty little child''
are Followed by tears, which show how the con.lemnation has
gone homo " Give up the plate, you may break it, there's a
dear little baby, and the plate is surrondere<l ; whereupon
kisses ami caresses yield it a sympathetic reward for an act of
renunciation. Tlio natural sympathies of most chihiren are
stiong; they cry when thoy hoar another cry ; they smile in
CHIOWTH „„■ THK SIONSK OK UVTV.
39
aiiswci- to siiiilcv ■ fi„„.
""■- « -y or iL ;tr"H::, ■;;,?•-"" i' ■""■«'■'•
«trono- tlio intn.-..l . ,,. «ut m all ca.sos, howi'vcr
^■.i"ea;..i :r ' : :;i::;. ";:• '"7 ",■■- «p»m.- -r >.,,i„«
twu,,.«,,i^;l:l' ;•>• -7' -ftl-' >.»!«, ,H,, -f
to o»cl, of ,. " „ ' . ';» -' »■"' ™,„1 yea,.. Tl,u,,
"■^.i..;-vi„:::t,,,';r;::.'' '" ""'""^"'" '■■"■ "- '■' '■-"
•i. The use of imitation
'" i'.^ ii.i. " vo ,; . . ':""""f, •" f ''"'■"" """-■"">• "i'i«'i»
'■'-l"-.t a,l,„„,° i , ' "",";";'.'l° ■"'■'I' « '!■"'« ■■ i« » very
lit. ■ «W,.r . , ' ■ '■ I"' " "•''' '""look Low nicely
trail. ,.,1, for th.^ i,,..;, .. , , "^ "^" ''''''^*' ^"'^ well
dutyi,.e w 'tvty I ;i':::;r, ',:;■"" r"™ """""" -^
m«Ue,- of in.itatio,,. '"""' "*""" '"' " ■"«">
*. The npiwil to autliority
the case, tlji, tcK, e.l t,y 1 IXT'"''''^ T"
and wh", ye ", .;"' "''«" ''« '--« «" 'atl.ert ho^e"^
near hi,,,, rivcTav t, vc T*'""' '" '""'■ '■- "" '""K-
I;
40
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
1l
a loose rein to every paasion. So, too. there are those who if
their faith in the truth of their reli^non declines, so tliat its
denunciations of punishment have no longer their ancient
hold, leel in ^rreat danger of precipitation into all manner of
evil You may see when a party of schoolboys are left for a
while to themselves whether their training has been that
merely ol compulsory obedience to authority or the superior
training which h.- cultivate.l right feelings. In the former
ca,se all restraints are thrown off when the controlling author-
ity is absent ; in the latter no material diHurence is seen for
the rules of good con.luct are such as a properly trained sense
ot kindness and consideration will dictate.
Yet the appeal to authority has its place in moral trainin..
and m a well brought up hunUy it is enough if it is ivporttS
ather says you must not ,lo so ". When the respectable
citizen finds that a thing is forbi.Men by law, there is an en.l
of it; the thing is wholly ina.lmissil)le. When the religious
man is shown '< thus is it written," he no longer discusses the
matter His duty is clear. To the averag,- man of fairly
moral feeling this is a comfort. Xo longei is he tossed hifh/r
ami tinther by conHieting sympathies. The W(M-d of father
or law, or holy writ, being venerable, forms an easier an.l
more dehnite guide.
But this .leference to authority may be either trulv mo.-al
or on ly quas,-m„ral. If the father's teaching has merely been
do this or I shall whip you "; if the man's obedience to the
law arises merely from fear of gallows or gaol ; if the grounds
of a man s respect for what he regards as Divine law be mercdy
the awful torments threatened by the Koran, the degradations
me empsychosis as taught by Bud.lha, or the endless flames
of he 1 as pictured in me.liit^val Christianity, then his morality
IS only .piasi-moral. He does right, not because it is right
but because he is attentive to his ultimate self-interests I
have heard a religious man say: "If I were to believe that
there was no hereafter, I should start an,l have a good time.
1 should ei^oy myself, I can tell you." Thus he expressed a
cynic 8elfi8hne.ss, betraying that in all this universe there were
no interests worth considering but his own pleasures, and,
moreover, revealing but a gross idea of pleasure. For if he
GROWTH OP THE SENSE OF DUTY,
41
knew ,t, how coul.l l,e more truly enjoy himself than in the
practice ol vu-tue >. Is happiness found where vice flaunts
where not rules >. Is it not a thousan.l times rather where a
«oo(l wife returns a nuitual fon.lness ; where little children are
knit by tender ties to the father's heart: where daily life
moves on amid the love an.l respect of all one's neighbours
and the interchange of kindly services ?
Yet we have reason to ])e thankful that for some natures
tins quasi-moral sanction is in operation. There are boys
wlio would never allow a llower to <rrow in your ^rar.len, or a
peach upon your trees, if their fatlier had no whip at home.
Ihere are thousands of men who are honest on'y so far as a
general disinclination to i^aoVWU' can deter them. There are
tens of thousands who. in their secivt min.ls, must confess how
bad their lives would be ha.l they no presentiment of hell-Hre
Let us be «la.l that they have their appropriate restraints
Yet conduct so directed has no truly moral motive. It Hn.ls
Its impulse ni that a])sorption in self, that paramount concen-
tration on one's own interests which it is the chief busin.-ss of
true morality to eoml)at and diminish.
It ha.s been shown, however, that this spurious sul)stitute
tor morality has a strong- tendency to mer«-e insensibly into the
genuine article For the indivi.lual who as a la.l lias acted
rightly tor fear of his father's whip, then as an employee for
tear of dismi.ssal, then as a citizen for fear of the laws then
as a devotee of some relio-ion for fear of post-mundane torture
may hnd r.o-ht conduct orown by habit into a part of his
nature, so that the true but sordid foundation of it may
become little visible, and he may have every appearance of
a truly moral man.
But while deference to authority generally has som. ad-
mixture ol tins less worthy class of motives, it is always in
Its in^dier aspect, sympathetic. If the lad says, " I must obey
my father, not so much because he would most likely whip
me if disobedient, but because I cannot bear to vex him," then
■such a deference to authority is purely .sympathetic and' it has
a nobler ring. If a jrirl ,says, " My mother never wliipped me
in her life, and the only punishment I have ever known ha.s ~
been the expression of her displeasure. Yet on tliat very
I
f
42
TH].: OHIGIN AM) GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
Hi
I
su 1 V . " '? ''° '"^'^^^■"^' ^""^^■^"•^' t« J-»- wishes ; ••
such a .letorence to authority has in it nothing sordi.l. Such
a la,l or such a gu-I may lose father or n.other, n.ay -o fa.
away f,,„n any umne.liate restraint, yet the motives of ri.-ht
o duct are not the less present: for they are trulynioral.no
merely an nnitatioii of morality.
So too the citizen may obey tlie law, and let us liope
J^..-ally does obey the law, fron. no n.ere fear of puni:!;^
n e . Al o us m,ght af we chose, in son.e n.inor pal-ticular
R„ '/ ; ^' "f "^" '^"^' "^^'^ '^"^^ i'«^^- "f ''^^tection.
but^the truly moral man, unless his ideas of duty seriously
conH^ct with those laid down in statutes, obeys the law fVom
a general belief in its l>eneficence. The tlun^ht of goin., to
«H0l never crosses his nn'nd, but the excellence of the law
mnansh. respect too .leeply to suffer bin. to wanto.dy
hsiegard It Even such enactments as have in no way gained
IS approI.xtion he will in general con.ply with scruput.sly,
lom a feehng that a profound respect evinced by all for the
law IS a n.eans of securing in the highest measure the order
and harmony of human societies.
Midway between this .leference of love and the deference
of fear, there ,s the deference of awe. It springs from the
consciousness of that which is greater than ourselves, even
thougl, there be no tincture of fear. If you or I in this
afternoo,! s walk could n.eet with Shakspeare or Beethoven on
the country road, and pace a mile or two by his side listen-
ing- to the cheery commonplaces of an ordinary conversation
what a tmie of deep emotion would that be, and how memor-
able the experience : However republican you may be in
sentiment if the ruler of a great empire visited your home
you wou d scarcely treat him as an ordinary stranger. Thou<rh
you would have no remotest sensation of fear, a certain feelino-
of awe would possess you. In general men have a strong
consciousness of this sort in the presence of the very rich the
very famous, the very powerful. The words and wishes of
sucli ai. received with an especial tendency to respect; the
whole ben,g an emotional effect of a kind closely related to
sympathy. It is reminiscent of the time when ohild and
mother m tlie primeval cave listened to the roar of wild beasts
GROWTH OF THE SENSE OF DUTY. 43
^out,.ua orouche.1 fo.- p.-otection beneath the l^Uher's
im 11 ■^^^"^•^^•'^"t of the Ways M-hen peasants ^.athered
t.m..lly roun.l the castle of the baron and h s mailed kni-dts
on tht ^nea num. So do the sheep huddle to«-ether for pro-
^ t,o,. 01 the o,s wh.n the wolf or din,o pa^L is ap^lS-
"Y So does the dog. at the terrihc tiuu.l..r-crash steal ud
^ tinhr"'; ^"''' '''''' ''' ^'^"••' ''^ '"^ ^^-'^ -^^^
in tnt unknown danger. " j'
the s^,r" "^ "! ^''"'" •^"^ >'«""^^«''t years, authority has had
chd looks up w,th aM-e to the parent; then when he is firs
n:i r 'T ■) ''r-"*^«-- ^o hedge the teache
ro L and ex. n when he leaves it, a certain soniething li„..ers
abou the na.n.ory of the head-master, who never seen^ wl^ |y
ma m the st eet looks up with eyes in which indeHnite awe
may clearly he read. How eagerly he lister, to sto e o
Lnrgs an.l ,ueens, of sorcerers and feiries ; all power, all Ze
a g ea ness ben.g sources of that awe which is he st. y-'
tellers chief stock in trade ! ^
itseif'soli^n"'-" '" '"?""'^' "'^"'^ '""'^'^ ^"-« - -ot in
Itself SOI did. „i general it is essentially sympatlietic If
a ^nnyson were to take some interest hi a la^lt^ vf^es ^
a Helmholt. or Kelvin to suggest a few criticisn s o ,1
mathematical problems, the extreme deference which aw
woT: youth would pay to age and experience 1 Ce
would be much more sympathetic than se If-seekiuir • andT
general he same n.ay be said .>f the respect wl idils'"' o
hose older or greater than ourselves. lud this, f our t
«^e ch,ef element in that deference to authority whTch we
yield to parent, to judge, or to sovereign power.
asa child W.S HUed with a deep devoli^: ;:t ^ i- ^ -
with gratitude for much love and abounding- care should in
maturer years transfer precisely the same sort of devtt^ Z
ill
44
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.'
one conceived as a heavenly father on whose goodness he is
dependent. Suppose that mingled with this affection and
gratitude there is the awe that naturally fills our minds at
the aspect of the very great or very noble, then the deference
to Divine authority becomes purely sympathetic. A man then
obeys his God because he loves and reveres him, not because
he IS afraid of his punishments.
Thus when we analyse the three .sanctions which enforce
the sense of duty-public opinion, imitation, and deference
to authonty-we find that the action of the two former is
e,ssc-ntially sympathetic ; while that of the last is always
sympathetic in so far as it produces a true morality It is
thus abundantly clear that having traced the rise of
sympathy from the humblest origin we have thereby
explan.ed also the .source of the sense of duty which always
when men dwell together, arises out of the play of .sympathy'
It i.s strange, tlierefore, that ,so many moral philosophers
should have been bent on maintaining what Kant calls the
inscrutable origin " of the sense of duty. According to them
the .sen.seof duty or conscience is a thing that "every man
has originally witliin him". How can this be so ^ Do we
not see its growth in the child ( What sens, of duty do we
expect ot a babe six months ol.l i Do we ,iot look for more
of It when the child is a year, and still move when he is five
years ol.l i Can w. not trace the stages in the growth of
duty within the savage community ? Do we not see that
notions of duty vary from man to man and from nation
to nation : while the strength of the general sense of
duty IS even more inconstant ^ These transcen.lental views
of duty have no grounds to stand upon, aiul are possible o,dy
to those who have been too bu.sy with theories ever to take an
occasional look at facts.
Will any one affirm that the causes herein enumerated are
of insufficient power to produc' the sense of duty ? Why
the influence of public opinion alone is ample; .sometimes it i.s
even too powerful, and overstepping the limits of beneficent
rule It becomes a perfect tyrant. With the influence of imita-
tion add. d It is far more than adequate to the formation of all
our Ideas ot duty, which, ii, fact, if we care to analyse them
OHOWTH OF THE SENSE OF DUTY 45
^.o one 18 born with tlie .ens. that he ou-^ht to wear
covenn(''.s on IWu *v>,.<- a' i. ^i . . 'j"^,m/ 10 wear
U " ''""? """ ""'■ '"■"»' """"■- A»k „ Lo,„l„„
street, an.l ,ee how powerful tl,e* i„Huence» are A ,i„rfe
1 , 7 ."" r'''"'"'-'' °' "^""""y- ''"P"» '<> a lady to visit
1 teir:; "■ »."«'^'™". and then observe ho v
a«lutd, ove,-power,„K is the hahit of co.nphance with
P« op,„,o„ and general usage. The worst fe ture of tise
te t"::,::,;:.,""",^^ '■"^^.'°° «■■«" » p--. 'o.- they „ !
utll'u,"L """■"' ~'"P'«'°" whatsoever, and „ti„ tl^e
mo ^^uMuI"" Th ':""" "'■^■"«''<'"» <"■ "•'■ ■"""«■■ «n.l
wo d '' , «:■ ''™,;""'''^- ir''"" ^'■^- "■"" "•'-
^.ritittr;!:;::. r- '" » ~ ---
He who wi,sh... to .see the tremendous power of th^
«3;|npa etie sub„us.ion to public opinion ru^JT^^ ^ „t
th St ;: T' "'"'^ ^'""^ ^° '""^''^ '"^ H-^appearan c^T
'L H,' ■ ^'^""^'""-^i-n on the eve of n.akin. his
son'ifi th. o,. ■ - r ^ ^'*''''' P^'"^> tli« masieian's
^sonata 1 ,. orators .luseourse are known with ample accuracv
and nothm. very dreadful would be the result of L."ke ^S
you may see the agonies of nervousness to which tl st^^^^^^^^
^ hal,le n.erely by reason of the thraldom of public opin on
buch a person breaks out in profuse perspirations : his' h art
beats fast; In.s hmbs tremble: his colour shows a sickKde
ran,.ement and for a day or two thereafter his di.. ion wm
certan.ly be m.paired. But we are all of us in our own
J«..sure constantly before our own public, compasec round -
with an audience or with spectators before whose oolhXe
nu«ht we ,uake though we scarcely know it. Not 01 1^,
." a thousand could so far stand up against it as to ap^ar !
I, f
I ,i»
'!'■
46 THK OHIGIN AND OBOWTH OF THE MOKAL INSTINCT.
a public .linner, even on a .sunm.er night of sweltering heat in
a hght an.l loo.se-httn,g .suit of .snow-white linen. A humLd
years ago every n.an in a gentlexnan's position .shav T iSs
XXz:^''e' tt' ^^ ^''' ' '''^' -n-nfortab;:
aeniand ot fashion, squeezed her waist into a wasp contour
j;j.un..g her health and acting with conscious ^^ C^^
incapable of bravnig the tyranny of opinion
ndeed the words of Locke (E.s,say ii., xxviii., 12) are in
- -ay over .strong when he .says: "There is not on i n t "
housand who is stiff and insensible enough to bear up under
he constant dislike and condenn.tion o'f his ow lb ,1
"ust be o a strange an.l unusual constitution who ca con
nt hnn.sel to live in constant di.sgrace and .lisrepr Th"
lu.s own particular .society ". '^P"tt \\it(i
The .sense of ,luty thus fonne.l out of the pressure nf
WhX if • "^"'T '' ''-'' ^" '- ^' oxtraordi^^r W^
ol ! e thi ^r" " "•?,' "'" ''^^^"'^ "" --unLstances: in
duel t H '' "'•' '""'^^ '' ' "'-''« -'"ty to fight a
duel, m another ay-e it will ....il-,. u i- i . ^
figlit. ^ ""''''' '^ ^"'^ 'I'lty to refu.se to
The CONTENT.S of an Idea of Dvty.
Whether any particular duty is a moral duty can be de
nan.elv n.d.lln '\P!'"" .^''.'^^ *''«'^« ""-^'^ sanctions of duty
^^ L^ ' TT?'"^ '^"^^^^^ «^ ^'^^'- "'to a duty
t.on must he in ascertah.ing whiher that 2^ ZZ
:H;iH-arance ol a .hity has any really sympathe ^ 1^^ t
v.eoptiont-;r^^^^^^
external depen.lence on .sympathy: but in itself it I.
"owever, i.s not ojdy enforced up
on
GROWTH OF THE qpv.-o
i±li, SENSE OF DUTY.
y^clcls not only the sham! of ft ^!"^'"«««- ^ want of it
-morse of .entas ac u on bef "'"'■^™ °' °^^^^'-^' '^"^ t'>«
sympathy. '"'^'^'°" '^^^^^■'^ our own inner instinct of
-^^''^•- --^ oulkt to Jn , h,^4 >"^'^t'°^'« ^«bed beforinn.K
"«t to call by J,er Chris L '" "^'^on^ine"; we ou-^ht
->"''^ -',,e under thf La i I T -^^ '"'"'^ ^^'^'^'^ '^^'^
^'^'-■' J shall ..erely caVnon 2 'hypothetical i„,pe.a-
^^■^ - person n,ay withot't h I '^ ''""'"• '^^^^^'>' ^^^ «"eh
P"'^''-<^ opinion. L the ' "T"'"'' '^' ''^^ ^''"«'^«« to defy
^"« --r self of :;.; .n;;:::r '^'^ "^ '^""^--^ '"- '-^-
i^ut fai- nio.v .•.. P "P^'" sympathy.
the p.seudo-n,oral duty T « 1 t "^ ^ "'"'^' ^'"^^^ ^""1
«y'"PHthies set up .st.n,lard,s whid I«/"r T'"^ ""P^'^-^'^'^'
^ ;-'^t,f3^ Take the exan.ph "' '^^v^Iopn.ents refuse
b««fc of men in bvirono in Z, ^^ ^^'"'"" P^^-««c"tiou. The
f ;••" ti.ey believ^!lt ^Z^^T '^ ^'^^"^ ^^'^" ^^--
«t'^'<e and ,. allows, thund,sc.ew 1 "" '"""^'''^ '^^' ^•^-^- ••^•
^""-■dered the true faith Th,;! ^T"' '" '^''"P^ ^^'''^^^ they
"»'"ense an.ount of erueltv u^ 'tf" ■ ' T ''""''' '^"^ ^'"^^ an
«-- <"■ -'uty, which w sUnf'T '""f ^'^ ^--^ -"cere
^^•'tl.out, but had the intern t.-^: ' ''"*^' '"'P"'^-' ^'^-oni
-'-veditselfactin, : '37'^^V-^^^^^
-^ -ies of laws ^Unst s^y ^ .'"""^'"'^ «'^ t-, the
'7"' '-«■'•" -as syn.pathetic but : T" ' P-'-'-''»tv ;
taken natu,-e of the sympath; ', '''"^^'■' ^'^^ nn's-
«tonin, of those who I'oi!:^;^;,, ';;, ^:"";^ "'; -tdu., t,.
" .'^""H' to H-o near a theatre of" tl, """''''' '''" '•^'^■"■^^^'
al))ect subnu-ssion to the J vh. ?'"/" '^'^'' '^ ""^•^•'. tbe
^^''-''-''ty of popes, wit :'',f "' ':^^^^^^
to the existence of ideas o 1 ' ,""'"''"' ^'^■^^'•^' '^" Point
had
lias d
•some internal nuit
!V(
•'dared that tin
d autl
i--<-'.li foi- li
lori
ty,
and have also
«ynipathies on which tl
",""1" f,'oo.l, yet time
1.
n
i
1 1
m
'ey were founded
I| M''
I 11
:.J
1 !■.
48 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
have been ignorant or imperfect; conscience being thus by no
means the infallible monitor it is so often absurdly considered.
The great injury done l)y the duties of pseutlo-morality is
that they divert attention from those of true morality. Yet
the evil is always unavoidable; much that we feel assured
to be true morality to-day may seem as radically false
1000 years hence. At Trafalgar it was the Englishman's
duty to kill as many Frenchmen as he could. The time will
come which will refuse to justify any warfare. We feel it a
duty to give our most glorious titles and richest rewards to
the successful soldi-r. J\lei; v.-ill feel otherwise some day. It
would be wrong, acconling to our present views, to give an
incurable cancer patient a dose of morphia to end for ever his
sutterings. We shall learn a truer sympathy.
We need only run through the laws of b3'gone ages to
see how constantly attention was drawn away from weightier
matters by these pseudo-duties. In the English statute Ijook,
for instance, we find (1523 A.n.) that no one is to possess more
than 2000 sheep, in order that the laml may not be converted
into sheep-walks. Vet at the same time (I'y.V,] A.n.) mercv is
so far forgotten that those who have failed to change faith
along with the king are to be Imrnt alive. In 1545 it was
enacted that no pins were to be sold which were not "double-
headed with the heads soldered fast to the shaft " ; and, in
the same year, there was an Act to punish those who charged
more than 10 per cent, of interest; and (1563 A.D.) a statute
was framed against charging more than a certain price for
barrels: yet at ihe same time there was the penalty of
<leath decreed fo. those wlio conjured the spirits of the dead.
Whilst these and the like distortions led to the creation of
pseudo-duties, a true sympathy was forgotten. While men's
nn'nds were wildly- e.xcited in discussing the pseudo-duty of
clei-gymen to abstain from marriage, boys ami girls iiad
their hands cut olf by the dozen for petty thefts^ women
were burnt, and men disembowelled for an abstraction called
high treason.
Think of the Christian Church issuing solemn edicts
iigainst the sin of eating hoi-seflesh ; the Egyptian horror at
the wickedness of eating mutton (Wilkin.son, i,, 10(i); the
tilt
I
GROWTH OP THE SENSE OF DUTY.
in
P- ^^^■) In the laws of Man f"'' "^ '^"'■"'"^' ^^enu (Haug,
hi.s elder broth,. • „' boT "h" "'"•^' "ot marry before
others, when a hn.^b ^ "^ ""'^^ ''"'' -^' "^ -any
--t at .lead of ni ^It r 'r""f "? f "'^'^"' ^'« ''-"-^
till a child i,s born. ''"^'^^ '^ '^^'^*' «"«<^ or oftener
tha ': •;;X wi -ro^y:,;!" ^^ ^-^-^ ^^-^ pem^nenee,
transcendenr/ori^irit .^r, :,"'^'^""''?"' ^^-^'^'^ --^ it«
I '--' -^dandWeiltV'^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
time or other warped or defie jf • ^ ''"' ""* "^ '^^'"'^
»"mlor? Thenvvhatofallthof . ^•\'* ^^^ Kohibition of
^^ to gather h.„.,, 'ul:^^^:; tz Tr^' '^''y
« '-elative has died, finds hinise f . I ^ustrahan who, if
^••"i", son. one in ..J^f^t^y^^f ^^^ duty of
respc.ctable philosophers .lescribed In « n ^"''''' '"'«^« «^'
Johnson in their ,n dst bura ' . ^ "^^' '^^'''' ''^^^ ^^'
•'--ion. that a man w^l^ ^ Ilin'T^r^^^^^^ '^"^
were inipuonod ? ^^''^ '* "^'"^'l 't his honour
I\it the duty of chastity? Was it nnf f^ jx
A.s.ynan woman to prostifute hZ^f^^T '^"'' '' ^"^"'^
t-nple of Beltis (Rawlinson, iii ^ ,'] '''' «"^^ "' the
■noxorable sense of ,luty preva led h ' T ""^ ^'^^ ■'^^'"'*^
^^'orsliip ^ Aristotle and Plato '"";^' ^°™'^ "^' P'^^^'Iie
«ense of approbation th s If, ''f ^ '"''^^'^ ^^'t'" '^ ^-'^-'ul
'^"cient Spartans. Plat tl o" 'r "i ''"^"'''' '"'^^'^ «^' ^he
to yield then,selves f ly ^ hV^ '' ' "^^' ^■-- "-''-t women
''-"•^' ^--tiKsotiu.ttieL:ior;i:;;;n-r "' '^ ^^™"«' -'^^
"'>«I't he i„.p,oved Thi 1 !>f ''" "^^^^ M-^'-'^^^mtion
«'"on^^ the Australian blacks set n '""""' '^' ^''''' ^''^'-'^
t'-u^ht it their ubsolute'dutf to' T^ ""'"'^^-'-^ '-o
^«f'- ». 7 t" ''^' '•■'■'■'y an.l heartily!
50
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
I .{
i
Whttt crowds of holy men in the middle age.s thou^dit it a
duty to advance the cause of reli^non by the invention of
fraudulent miracles 1 And in those times was the mere vio-
lation of an oath considered sinful if it had not been made
over some saint's relics ? Among- ourselves is it not the duty of
a general to deceive as much as possible his opponent but to
be absolutely straightforward with the sovereign or minister
under ^ hom he acts i The nobh. of old woul.i have disgraced
hnnself and his family, would indeed have been false to his
most evi.lent duty if he ha<l worked for his living. It was
his duty to ride forth in arms to carve out his way to fortune
from the spoils of the industrious peasants of other lands.
_ Where shall we find any one duty which remains the same
in all times and in nil circumstances ! Indeed it seems incon-
ceivable how any philosopher who iiad the smallest faculty
for investigating or comparing facts could have maintained
the uniform and inscrutable nature of the sense of
duty.
Let any one observe the play of his own motives when the
next occasion arises, as it constantly does with us all, when he
IS uncertain as to the exact nature of his duty. He will Hnd
that the trouble invariably springs from a conHict between his
own individual sympathies and the average sympathies as ex-
pressed in public (jpinion. Is it right for him to bet upon a
race-horse ^ The .[uestion will probably be settled for him in
the affirmative if his circle of friends and relatives are racing
people. It may be as decidedly settled in the negative if his
surroundings are evangelical. But if iu' is in doubt, there is
no law, human or divine, to which he may app.'al. If his
iriends tell him the practice is without evil, his own individual
sympathies may declare that it is fraught with harm to many
people. If he feels any uncertainty, therefore, it will arise from
the conriict of his own sympathies with surrounding opinion
But il his circle of frien.ls have taught him that all forms of
gambling are wicked, they must of course have gathered that
idea from observing the harm they do to society. Theii con-
demnation expresses the aggregate sympathy in this matter
II the individual fails to see the harm that is done, an almost
UK'.vitable coidiiet ari.se.s between the two great sources of the
^ It
GROWTH OP THE SENSE OF DUTY.
*or 1 am now ncliin^-l f,. j • j. i- 'Society.
a« an element, seei^. ow on r'1, 7 '""""^' *« ^"^^--ty
t-^l to become onfy I x™ "^ ^^■'^ ^'"'^^^''^ «^' ^"^hority
laws of the land are^Z^^'T "' ''""^'^' ^^'^^^^■- ^he
the avera,.e feelin. a , I h " ''"" *° *'"^^ *« ^°"^orm to
happens to divn.e law w '•' 'T" ^'^ *^^" '^^"^^^ t'""^
Masaielawsasweha p^:; to'beHrt^;,"' 'T '' "^
entirely ne^.ieet. Allaho„f " , ^^'^ ^^'^^t nmm v^e
^■--■- about pries s andl T '""'^' "^'' ■^'^^««' --' -ar-
^-P'-.wealLbi^.'tj^'-^^^; --' ^'-mcision. and
centurie. dropped ou,' alTe.^il iee to tirR-|7 l"! '^"^ ^"^' '^^
"^ff witches or destroyino^ « 1 W f ''"' '^"*^ "^' *'""^-
avera^^e .syn.pathie.s of our t W ^T^""' ^^^"' '^"^^'^ ^^^«
of -^^ht or else interp et i i Tu " '''^"' '''''^' *^^' ^-^^'^t c.t
ta.ste,s. So, too, with re -l" to T 7"'"""' '"^ ^^^^ ^^^'-^^
What commends itself toi 1 Z "''''""^* instructions.
The rest is allowed to laps •^^^P^^''^^'''^ -forced as duty.
a»^I sell all tha. we have nd T" °^ "'^ ^"^^^ ''«""'' to Jo
none of us turn the ef eh"k X .^ ^":" ^^ ^^" ^^"^ ^^-
^^ s'ap. We none of u t „ it 'T I ""'" ''^ •^"■"^'•"«- ^^^^
—V- The greatest a « iU i" t '" '^'" "° '^^^'^ °^' ''-
«s a duty that which doJsno . "' r^'^'^'^"'^''^ ^'^ ^"^'^^-^-^
Ifthies of the commun; ; On ZT '^'^ ^° '''^ •^>'-
^'"ngs are now held to be ab. , f'''' ^^'^^'^ thousands of
The GROWTH of x\ew Duties.
'-';";;" !;::',r „r:t:;; :f - "'■">'- --^ »'«-.„,, ,,,
P«l« each pa,,,.t t„ 1, tr,';'''"'^' "■'"*"''«' =om-
-1 "t- N„ Bi,„i„ , ' r'^- *" ™. -;■ ta.,,„t to read
InJo,,! it „„«t be vxTv pUb tl " '° ""'"'''"■ "«> '' "}".
""" '"»' "- "« '- «- " Xt:::"^-';:!:::? --
^ 'VL centuries aijo
ft
I
I I
fr ?
52
THE OEIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
there was no such sense of duty. Why does it now press so
strongly and with so considerable a uniformity upon all of
us ■!
The answer must be that for this as for all other duties
which are truly moral there is a double play of sympathetic
motive : an internal one and an external one. First, that of
the inilividual sympathies, acting in tliis case on the parental
side of a :nau's nature, and second, that of the community,
acting on him by imitation and by the influence of public
opinion. Suppose that I am inclined to be lazy or parsi-
monious and tlierefore to neglect the education of my children,
or that selfishness bids me spend my money otherwise. Parental
sympathy interferes, and pictures to me my children suttering
all through life from their ignorance. Are they tc rank as
illiterate boors ? Are they to be drudges on the commonest
level for want of the education which will give them a chance ?
Are they to be shut off from all the pleasures which books and
newspapers and correspondence can offer ? The direct parental
sympathy of the individual will not suffer it, and apart from
any other motive this is in general suflicient to determine my
conduct, and fill me with a sense of duty that will overcomvi
laziness or parsimony or selfishness.
Suppose, however, I am too poorly endowed with parental
sympathy to feel it as an overmastering impulse, that though
I have some sense of duty in the matter, it is too weak
to do the work recjuired of it. Then see how the sym-
pathies of those who surround me reinforce my feeble parental
sympathy. All my friends and neighbours express themselves
as shocked at my neglect. They lament that the children are
going to sutt'er in th • future by reason of my selfishness.
Meanwhile the children themselves may be abundantly happy,
rolling in the fields in careless idleness ; but the sympathies
of all my neighbours travel forward to the ignominies, the
disabilities, the sufferings of the future. I know that I am
condemned. I feel that in every house in the district I am
held up to reprobation. What my own individual sympathies
have been too feeble to enforce as a duty, the galling conscious-
ness of universal blame will compel mo to follow.
Fortunately, matters rarely go to this extremity, for public
GEOWTH OP THE SENSE OF DUTY 53
choolor otherwise provide for its edueatio^ „.er ij el^
1 l/iVT.r""' ""'^"- ^-^'fI-alysed,x,yLtTvesI
1. Why have I sent my children to school i
Be^useeve,ybody else sends his children to school.
-. l^ut why does everybody send his children to scliool ^
3. B„t w\xy is tlii., tl,<. „t.„„ra| „pi„j„^ ,
el,.u,«.s that «luH e*;-ll*'""- "P "'"''-' ^-'-^ i' ">e
W» tl,„., fi,„| ,|„u ,1,. „l«„|„,„ f„„„,,„n„„ „f ,1 .^
»2;-:';:t;;:,.e;'Ct;:''i''';""'^^-'"''-^''-^"»^
opinio,:' II';;; ■:';- :;;;«■'>• j;--;' *a. p„H,ie
parent i» compelled to coLho,* ■,''"'' "';V!"'-i''«»l
..a™ of tiK. co,„,„„„it, „,j,i,: ,;:'■:, ««r'T;rti;i*:
far from the < uty hein<r ■,« Jn Tv' , f' • tnus, so
'«»•; H is the ,.4 whierd ,^ ' :,;'"i:™':' '*■ r
analyse the development among on.-selv"; „■ " ""'"■ '"
?en,e of duty as that connected ;;u J ,, I ^.'trri'f
::::^^:'r!:h:irid'r::; 1' *-»-"-■ "f
the sense of dnty ap,«„-s L 'acl V ■.™"'' "'''*■"" °'
ever ha,l „ notion l^^Z^tJZT'^T '""""',';""^
n„ +K^ , , . "^""^ wiorii," to shed hninfin I1 nod
'Jn the Contrary It was evm-xr ..,0..' i ^ , , ' 'inon,
tHeh,„nd„f„nLeme„::r:::rrir.:i;::r
m
■$-
ila,
lifl
54
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
.M
Within the tribe, it was hi.s duty to wash out an insult in blood
and always to return blow for blow
tetble scattered and inconsulerable. So soon as individual
sy.npat lues restraining, each n.an Iron, sheddin^th loo l"^
h. neighbour became strong enough to ^onn a Cody op: L
o uuon wbch he d all in check, a start was n.a.l in or
Fogress wlucl, w.dening and deepening, can be traced th
^11 the ages as a gathering sense of ,lut\- in re..-ir,l fnlf
«anct,ty of hu.an life. F;. in proportil I a^^^^:
nch ,n the syn.pathies which give rise to that sense so v i
able to kn.t itself con.pactly together, and to j.^'i s ne ,
'ri3^t'%^'"^" -T '""^ '- type-'eontr^^ldi;
Tl . n , ' ^P' '''"'""*^ ''"^^' ■'^^^'^^^'"y .lisappea.-ed
fun. r; 1"'^' '" ' "'^•'""' '''-'«'^"^-' -' re,4ublance in the
f un a nental not.ons of duty in all advanced societies, because
n tl.en- broad outhnes the n.oral ideals which contribu e to U e
progress of one comuuniity will be those th.t .„• / ,
in ill Koi.v-- 1- . , "'^' "'0'''e tliat are tavourab e
ma 1. Relationships to chil.lren, to wife, to nei-dibour
winch are pro.luctive of harn.onious lives n ust necessaHK
have a general unifonnity, due to their .lepenLrr U e
•same bzolognc necessities. VVlxere the sense of d t dirt" .
.s jn n.a ters of less than prhnaiy iniportance. and I a f ^
atioii attei- ttanoratioii till it lm,l jjiwn witli i„„n,- , . ,■
*oi..i„„,»t „,„,.., ,„.,„.„, „„„ -„„ :;:;! ;7; >™:
Ho ...s. ,„ ,„„ 7„„ ,„„„, „^j^.,., ,1,^^^^ ^^_, J ^«. a»
M (-1
J
OHOWTH „F THE SEXSH OF nrxv 55
«v.H,.,.«,K|,,,„„|,,,^';,„,,^, ;»■'.»•» "->';.' that ,„a„y „
a, w':':„r,.;ri,;;:,;.";'r' '■ "■^■" '■■""•"■ """ «•"-•'■«.
_ en. iin\ar.I coiisciou.sness of .lutv sn f... K
he.no. a uniform monitor whose dict-^fT
inuilterini;, is never n.nr. fl f '""'' ^'"''"" "»''
•so in re,;;,! to 1 , '"""'^^^^' ""'^■"^■•"' '""' ^^»'y
life. I,r 1 rr *;;'!''""^"*^' ---ties of soci^
vagaries. '' ''^ ' ^'""^'^ "^ ^he n.ost perplexin.
pas/^^eilTf po^C?'^^^ T'-;- ^'^^ '""^ ^^- «^ the
faiths that they ac e " ^ '""'"'^ '^'' ^^'"'--»t« ^f other
Their eonseie.^ "l;;;^:!^ 7 T ^^ ^^^^^'^
tl,o»e wl,„ maintained the 1 1, f„l T f'" "'"' ""'"y "'
".«,. «n,l that their eonscL ^ aln "m ,"''""''^: """ «°"'l
man's coiLscionce fo,l,i,l. 1 , "^"^ °"' »P""»™- One
appear on the sta^e without 111 '^/^ally ^roo.l p,ece
One man's conscience smites him •. \ "^'V ^" *" ««^^ it-
church on a sin.We Sun(l.n nl . "*''^' ^'^'^^ ^'^^'^
ren^otest ,,uahn in st i "'• ^'"''^''' "^"^^^ ^"^^''^ the
place he 'vouM ,;^'' ? 'T^V ^^ ^'""'^'^ ^-"^^ the last
absohUeh- im irtl. t th . T'; ''"■ ^"'■'^^--^- --
heef:...t all!X:t^.r:;^/'T*«^^^^^^^
grieve over an untruth of w h TT ,■''"" ""^^'^^
An ancient .ewhaa no mor:;t!-;:;;r;::r:Cr
^l>
IJv
:m:
-J
r.!
ii :'
's . ,
..Sj
56
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
the marrying of three or four wives: a modern Jew has a
wholly different conscience.
It is absolutely untrue then that a man will always do
right when he listens to the voice of his conscience All we
can say is that he will, as a general rule, do what is considered
right in his time and community. For his conscience is the
mirror of that general l.,.|i..f, and in Germany it will
encourage him to take his family out on a Sunday afternoon
to hear some good music in the public gardens ; while in
Scotland it will make him thrill with horror at the thou^dit of
8uch profanity. But the growth of sympathy from age to age
tends to produce a greater uniformity in the sense of duty •
for It steadily sweeps out what is non-moral or of spurious'
morality, and leaves only that which kindness and tenderness
to all our fellows would dictate; and this is the true
morality. *
Duty and the Law.
How has it come about then, if the sense of ,luty
IS so variable and so dependent on accidents of l)irth
and training, that it is so generally considered to be
something absolutely fixed and unchangeable i Even those
philosophers whose eyes have been unwillingly opened
to the wide variations in special or concrete duties
delight to maintain the transcendental nature at least of
the abstract sense of duty. To tliem this abstract
conscience is the primary feature from which are derived all
our ideas of special duties; and, according to them any
variations in these ideas are due to corruptions of the
original conscience. But as Herbert Spencer most unanswer-
ably shows (Data of Ethics, p. 124), the special duties come
first in our life experience. We never appeal to the conscience
of a six months' baby. We teach it special <luties, and, as in
all other cases of abstract notions, that child at the end of
some years begins to have a general conception of duty which
it has derived out of its experience of special duties.
A great part of this mistaken idea of the transcendental
nature of duty has arisen from the prevalent erroneous con-
I
>•:
; J!
, any
f tlie
J
GROWTH OF THE SENSE OF DUTY. 57
ception of the relation between law and duty. So Ion. as it in
z ;r T '' '^ ''" ^"^' "''^'' '"^^'- ^he duty, l:
clea tha, the sen.se of duty will take its form from the
arbitrary muul of the lawn.aker. Whereas in truth the duty
hrst grows up as a conse,uence of human nature and human
needs, and then, as I shall suhse,uently show, the law steps
n as a definite ,nude for practical conduct. The channel
are >u ^ "'1' /'' "'"' """ ^'"^^'^^ '^ «*-r; the laws
^taklue^^^^al^^^'""^'"^^^
The Api'auevt Arsoli'texess ok Drrv.
Xow, lastly, we have to inquire whence comes that feeling
Htnsc of luty winch we all experience. For thou.^h we know
very well when we were tau,ht certain .special du'^ties, luZ
can iX iT' T '"'-''' '''^''^'' '^'-"^ "t'--. thou,h w
can nd e, race the genesis of three-fourths of our i.Feas of
prac :ca duty, 3^et a general sense of an external ri-d es
to winch we must yield obedience is a thing that has .70 such
oij^on ,n our n.Iivi.lual experience. Thus in a hi - hss
umd the sense of duty does in truth assume a a^i^
an ce,,,ental appearance. To use the words of J. TZ
ne8,s, that apparent mHnity and incommensur.l.ility with all
o or consKlerat,ons which constitute the distinction betwe
h f ehng of nght and wrong, and the feeling of or i rv
expedience and mexpediency ". There are Four sep. rate
cau^sbr this; three of them arising within th'x^'^^
oriJn'i!" ""7' ''"^^'^-""- -^ '^PP^arance of inscrutable
mtm ,y Our remembrance can rarely carrv us back with
any distinctness to the years before our'Hfth, ..d ne" u Ir
any cireum.stances carry us Ivml- .,f all , ,
the child .-ho is to n,. "" °"*' "^'^"^'- ^"t
_ ••"[' ''^ ^° «^"^^' "P 'luLiiul goes through momentous
experiences before that age. It Hnds that its^i.l is cmtl
I
■J i
I
58
THK (MUCtIN AM) CHOWTH OF THl', MOH.Xh INSTINCT.
nn.I chucked on all hands; that its „wn indivi.hml and in-
ternal motives are subject at all times to reversal or modlKca-
tion hy t)u' action of external motives such as imitatioji, love
of pnuse, fear of !)iame, or hvad oF punishmeiit. Thus lon-^
heFore the dawn of n.emo.y, the sensr has .jrown up of ret
sponsdahty to an ,>xternal standard which, tlierefore, assun.es
all the nistnictive appearance characteristic of other (|ualities
ae,,nnvd in the pre-n.emorial pc-riod, such as the capacity of
^•raspui.' Hecurat..|y, of walkino- with due balance, of makin-r
the exact sound with our vocal chords that we wi^l. to niakt^
2. The action of habit has made the sense of duty auto-
matic. For everything which has passed bv habit into the
mere operation of a reflex action ten.ls to become mvstei-ious
(.)bserve an expert musician seate.l in can>Iess nioo,'l befo.-e a
piano: while he lau<,dis and chats his tinoers easily execute
the bars of complicated music. The fallinj,^ of certain .-roups
of black s,o.ns upon the retina of his eyes sets his tinovrs ut
work m corresponding- motions, aTid not only is his readin- at
si<;ht a marvel to us, it is a mystery to himself. He could
not explain how he does it, an.l if his inusical trainin^^ had
be-un very early so that he had been al)le to read at sijrl,t
fairly well before the a-'e of Hve, he would have a strou<r sensa-
tion as if the faculty had been born with him: it" would
appear an innate inspiration. Mo when a man speaks the
truth as a matter of habit dating, from the years antecedent
to memory; when he shrinks at the utterance of vul-^ar, pro-
fane, or indecent words, he believes himself actuated by an
innate sense of right and wronj--, whereas it has all been only
a matter of training, though modified by the action of the
fourth cause shortly to be specified.
3. The feeling that our standards of con(hict are outside
of ourselves grows with the experience we have of life in
society. Just as no one can live in a world of three dimen-
sions without acpiiring a feeling of the infinity of space, as
no one cai. employ a single language for twenty years with-
out gatliering at least a vague impression that the thing and
Its name are somehow connected, so it comes to pass that a
lifetime passed with constant experience of the necessary
submission of our wills to outside influences gives to that
GROWTH OF THE SKNSK OF DUTY. 59
>Sunaa3 ■ 1 ho nab.t has become part of his nature A .leeo
« ot u„ea.si„e.s.s woul.l harass hi.n if he it.ut o
Hku., a walk in the heMs o„ a Snn,Iay .H.X r r
-e en-eun.stancos, the .ut. ., ,,„, ,/„„„,, ^„ ^^
TZm \ ■■"""t^r '^'"^ ^^' ' ^'"-''"^^ cor,seiousness
o In lloo. tlie .n.hv.Iua. i,..s see-, the househ<,l.l, in the
t r:jr'':r?'T"'' -'^"-^tt-andsdemn;
^u..| onanls the church. Such an experience havin-. no
—"•>"-l be.-innin.. no break incontinuit, '^
force. I l)y the utmost WeJL^it of s
henio- en-
thnt inevitable .>,„] , ■^"r "' •'"^■^•^^"•"'"'«- <>l'i"ion, assumes
iMtN, table an.l etei-nal aspect of which I s,,eak Yet
a 1 l.een_ brought up in a fannly which never attended u
In conscience would speak to hin. in utterlv .liHerent n i .'
he ,dea would never cross his nund that upon that ■ '
are so solidly ao-ettl^H- '""">: P«'"*'^-"P-' which we
nature of du y ^ . "^ "'^ T^^"'^'^"" '' ^^e transeendental
Habit of hJ^fS^Z^J^'^Tir'^''- '^'''' "^""'^^' ^^-
our time .,,".-/'•"' '^^'^'^'•f"'«- to the conventional standard of
sease of d uT' ""'^^ *^" ^^-^'^ "^' ^1- instinctive
ensL or lutj. It begins m unremembered infancv it i^ nn
I..,,. <-• , '"'"'^'-'^ t^noiauied m our nature, and we all of n«
emcient. Public opnuon sets these up
I, fl r
60
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
M
J .
as a standard, and in its own way compels obedience. The
habit of obedience becomes a second nature, and it is thus
practically impossible for the avera^t^e man to walk out on the
public streets in costume which would be elegant and modest
for a woman. A male costume for men and a female costume
for women seem as if among the most ilefinite, unalterable
and absolute provisions of nature itself. Yet we know that it
is a mere matter of convention.
4. In the case of moral ideals that are less fluctuating, and
by their uniformity ajid fundamental nature have gathered
fresh weight antl compulsiveness from the process of the
centuries, the phenomena of iidieritance give them no little
founclation of a truly instinctive character. For in their case
the dictates of tl.. public opinion around us lind an approving
echo in our own inherited natures. The voices of a far-off
past are sul)tly swelling within us. Even as the first wholly
uin-enienibered years of our lives leave a record none tlie less
indelible, so that a melody then often heard but since for-
gotten may wake at a chord or two impressions of mysterious
power suggestive of pre-natal experience, so does tJie child-
hood of the race dwell unknown to us in the nerves of each.
Thus does it come that those of us who have never killed an
animal for sport in our lives can rarely see a rabbit peep out
from a bush or a rat from a corner without a sudden momen-
tary flash of murderous impulse. But the same subtle power
lives witliiii us for kimlness as for destruction, and a full
measure of this gives the individual an instinctive predisposi-
tion to moral conduct, 'though it is true that all children
require, in .some measure, to be taught the habit of truth, yet
there are many so teiw'. i- and aflectionate by natuiv that they
easily learn to feel a lie as a wrong done, an injury inflicted.
On such a eliil.l the habit of truth is easily iinpressed. and
exerci.ses throughout life a peculiar power: whilst a ehil.l of
coai-ser flhre and l)y nature less susceptible to fliie emotional
impulses will be taught with difliculty to be truthful, and will
always V< roughout life And the seltish instincts at war with
ac(|uired habits of veracity.
N(nv in the • ' se of all truly inorfil duties, this instinctive
play of inner emotions is in unison with the external play of
'GROWTH OF THE SENSE OF DUTY. 61
public opinion, which has settled us into .special habits. And
i^^^h tt """' f '' " "'' '■'^ ""' ^"^^'^-^^1- '—- allied
with the sense oi sympathy, which is. Considerin- then the
iih-r;" ^"^^^°'ri""-^ ^^^ «o-i .mties .^ihout'thi^
a l.ance, such as dressn.^. reasonably well, eating- our food like
other peopl or keepino- our houses cleanly, it Ts !>■ no n,ean
rash to conclude that, with the powerful aid of "instinct^^ ve
■sympatlues, the truly n.oral duties will ^-ather a sa c .o
pec^^^^ n.y«terious control. A n,an Lis that het:.
^^antonl^ hurt an annnal ; firstly, because his own instincts
are a«.unst ,t ; .secondly, becau.se he was tau,ht not to so
jn earhest c ddhood ; thirdly, because he has'ahvays le .
the habit of treatni,. anin.als well; and, fourthly, because
pubh. opnuon, n. which he Joins, con.lenms all cruelty. T
knul t.reatn.en of aninuxls is with bin. a nuitter of course
quite as inevitable as his sleepin. or eatin. at state.l int^" d '
hab.t, whose date is iannemorial, and the expected lash o
S^jeral disappi.ba.ion, would combine to form ll^ tu
he ti I sma 1 voice of conscience, an inner monitor seemiiudv
absolute and eternal, thou«-h really dependent first o £
emotiona capacity of the individual, a„d secondly o
emotional capacity of surrounding, individuals ^
Locke puts in a forcible way one part of thi,s true oriirin of
te sense of duty (i., iii., oo, ^ .j, nn^y rea.lily col? to pas
that doctnnes .lerived from no better authority Jhan the su
Htition o an old woman may nevertheless Irow up tT ^
.l;.-.ty of pnuciples in morality. Yet such Is are re d to
prnic.ple cluldren well, instil into the as vet unnn i , 1 ^
i<
to'
III
),f.
I
t
62
THE OKIGIN AND GKOWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
I i
to liave tlie reputation of uiKjuestioiiable, self-evident and
innate truths."
We have only to join this undoubted influence of educa-
tion with the inherited tendency to sympathy which underlies
all moral .luty, to see how the idea has arisen of duty as
somethm^iT superlatively ^rreat and mysterious. It has alrea<ly
been shown that when duty has but the one sanciion with no
share of the other, when it depends only on education and
deference to public opinion, without any real basis of sym-
pathy, it becomes a heartless and unlovely thin^r This formal
duty it was a^^ainst which Jesus and Buddha invei^-hed. But
what a true nobility envelops the character wherein the warm
impulses of sympathetic feeliiiir are steadied and rendered
weijrhtier by the orderly influence; of a sense of duty. Both
unfortunately, may fail. The emotions of the in.lividual may
be foolish or iiiadequate. The avera-e emotions of the com-
munity, which determine the nature of .luty, may be marked
by countless imperfections and crudities. But the moral type
most hifrhly appreciated in a people will occur where the
individual emotions of kindliness are under the control of a
sense of duty founde.l on emotions not too far aliove the
average to win the approbation of that particular period of
that particular people.
Fortunately both of these elements jrrow together. For
as the sympathy of the avera^-e individual, whicli should be
the actuating.' power, increases by reason of car.ses already
discussed, so must the fre„eral sympathy increase, so must
public opinion reach a hi^dier level, and so must the standar.l
of duty rise. 'bus we see in history that the averaj,re capacity
of sympathy is ever slowly au^-nientinf.-, and that, in con-
seciuence, the standard of duty is as steadily improving-. In
other words, the moral instinct in man is from century to
century in process of development.
03
^^ V
CHAPTER XVI.
SELF-RESPECT.
DUTV AN EXTERXAL. SeLF-ResPECT AN InTEUNVL CoyTKOL.
MORAUTY is investeu with a new .li^mity and a most com-
plete controlhn^i,^ power when it ceases to be wholly dependent
on the fitful play of en.otion or on any externallv imposed
Stan, ard o. .liity; but possesses as well that hi^d^er unheal
which lies to an inwar.l sense of self-respect, disdainini the
mean, the base, the cruel, not aiono because injurious to
others, and attended by the condenn.ation of others but
because of the scorn of self which would follow. Herein the
fundamental elements are still the same as before, but thev
are operative in a manner that n.akes them n.ore searchiui^ly
etiective. Por the moralities of the three sta<,.es n.ark tlu-ir
ascen.hn-. j-rades accor.lin^. as they are the sin.ple natural
morahty of syn.pathy ; .,.• the n.oralit,. which, thouo-h
essenfally ot th. san.e character, is stea.Ued by the sense ^f
<lu y : or that m which the sense of .luty has ac.|uired a new
an.l penetrative inHuence by its conversion ir. part into a
sense of self-respect.
Take, for example, the case of honesty. Why does a
cortan, man refuse, a^^ainst his own n.ateri^! advantage, to
™.Jbv1 . M 7^ '"^ "''^' ' kindly-hearted n.an ^-hose
■sympathy for „ds hnn to profit by hurting, another with
•.ocep ,on, llus ,. the Hrst staf^e of morality. Hut in the
second sta..e Ins morality has a stron^^er backbone in it when
the sense ot duty converts this voluntary principle of action
into one remlere.l comp.dsory by habitual compliance with an
external standard He cannot lie because all the teachin^.s of
fn.M,ds whon, he loved, of authorities whom he revere.l have
ii
i'!'
li
"II '
04
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
i '
f.
i 1
fi i
forbidden him to lie: because he would quiver with pain to
be tound out in a lie, and .so be dis^miced in the esteem of
those around him. To a man who has both sympathy and a
sense of duty, truth will be an unbroken habit. Yet a loftier
nature may act from a principle which will give to that habit
ot trutli a certain nobility, raising it utterly out of the realm
ot the e-. edient into a region of s<3rene upriglitness. Such a
man will feel himself unable to lie, because falsehood is a
thing which he scorns. He dis.lains to weigh in the matter
any other question. If it is a thing in itself mean and
despicable it is wholly inadmissible. Thus self-respect
though it has no new morality to teach, enforces the old with
a peculiar absoluteness and absence of compromise. The
sense of .luty makes a man desire the commendation of the
good : but the sense of self-respect makes him desire to be
wiioUy worthy of that commendation.
The sense of daty has its origin in the pressure of some
external criticism of our actions. What will our friends our
rulers, our deity think of our deeds ? From the habit of asidno-
ourselves that (|uestion arises this controlling sense. But the
time arrives in the development of a noble type when
the individual becomes himself a spectator and criti" of his
own conduct. At first it is only a reflected image he perceives
and he gathers a notion of himself from the feelings and
expressions of those around him. As he judges of his person
by what he sees in his mirror, so he judges of his own
character by what he rea<ls in people's looks and expressions
It IS a thing of good promise when a young person after a
tew words of kindly warning or sharp reproof sets to work to
think over his own character, and try to see it as it appears
to others. When by this reflecti-e process an introspective
analysis has begun, there is generally much hope of subse.,uent
amelioration. The conceited youth must first perceive his
conceit; the frivolous girl must first bo conscious of her
frivolity : the ru.le chil.l must first .see the ugliness of its
rudeness before any reformation can begin that is not merely
external. And if we learn to acquiesce more or less in the
Ju<!gn...nt.. which other people form of our actions, we begin
to anticipate their criticism by judging ourselves beforeluin<I •
i
'i
SELF-RESPECT.
65
:;;:;,::; "*• -- ""^"= -^ -"•^-' - - '° -oid their
Tim proces, of judging „t,,e,^ „,d ,j„,„|; ^
:t::,•';tr""^■^;^':-Lf";^-"■-"ti.:^:f
council, one .„le„n„n ,,f,«., .o .i:^; th 'evi ■. ir', ^
mot ve a» soi-diil r..-,.»t l., tT i- . ' "'Sni-il tire
i» tl„. vata, , „, . "'■'''""'■y i"'«™<>'l.-» of life
tainted .itl, tire .^^iJ^^^J:^ ^ ZZl^ZA^
m.eu,.o„, we ought to jujge other.,, and wi 1 el t '^^
^;:;e' '■ ™'» '» '"« »'>'«'• ^^ «.» .u.ti„ei„C™":?
But the in.lividual who has been Ion... ,s,ihiect to ih. ,.1
o external criticism an.l ,vho has lon^ ^I^ch d a^r^ H ^^
o^-.tici.n, others is ahso.utel, eerta^, i. hi: in^ ..^
moderately developed, to beeon^e a critic oF Imnself' of h
own conthict and of his own work Tl,«.. ,
."-y l«ople who hl.„ne\';,";L '^ZlTt!^
»p,euou, ,n then,>,elve,. But tin, i., rarely p„J t ^ Z,
'.1 «nHe. An,l in youth a wise training wyeouinel t , i,
-pec .ve eo,„p„ri,on,. .Supp,» th.t"„ iLrir i, ;
a..o her boy br getting up » late i„ the „„,rning, he v H d
toed for reflect.ou iu the ren.ark : •■ ludee,!, yo,r are . '
» e.«,ly r„u,e,i iu reasonable tin.e ". Tire Lud I'ri wl I
lelatnig « httle pieee of ilLtemper on the mrt „f , r ,
^■'^ '■ ""«' »' «o.n«thiug :,f the sit':; 'ttiut :::;;;,;:
own critical words
-ften take n «>-laiipf>
at 1
condemns in others
VOL. II.
— ....1 vy.D<jii uaivu a ii'iance
I"ct to see if those faults are there which he
lb'
(3fi
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL TNSTIJiCT.
If il
In liis Theory of Moral RentimenU (pan iii, chap, i.)
Adam Smith iucide, (tally allude; to this labituai process of
introspection as the cxitrin of scir respect; and in another
passao-e he tells us that • the principle by which we r.nturally
either approve or disapprove of our own onduet seems to be
altoo-etlim- the -ame with that by which we exercise the like
judoioents cuiicernino' the conduct of other people ". First ■..;'
ail. r.]»; unceasing play of external criticism makes ns v,itchful
of i.in-seives, and canful of the <,anse in which we appear to
others. Bi i, to a just mind, much more important is the
second wnt of the process. If he is accustomed to judj^-e the
C(>nduct m" others, lie learns to apply the same rules to himself.
And if his characcei- has any degree of nobility in it, he judges
his own conduct with more severity than ever he judges that
of othfH-s. lt"'or he knows his own motives, whiio he can oidy
imperfectly guess at those of others. He deals n-ith his own
conduct in its entirety. That of other people hn can under-
stand only in fragments. He is well aware that while he
frequently misunderstands even those who are nearest and
dearest to him, he never misunderstands himself. He, there-
fore, is a])le to coridemn his own weaknesses with a freedom
and certainty he caimot apply t(j the foibles of other people.
Of course I am Iiere not speaking of petty nunds, to whom,
hideed, this whole region of moral sanction is little known.
To them the faults of others are excellent subjects foi- scandal
anil eon.Iemiuirion ; their (jwn are hidden by impenetrable mists
of self-love. fSut in proportion as a mind is exalted, so will
its self-criticism be severe and searching. It may go too far
and become morl)i<l, interfering with a healthful instinct of
reasonable self-assertion. But in a well-balanced temper,
self-examination of a half-unconscious kind produces a ver^
high tone of moralit}'.
In tlie case of a man of high intelligence a? icate sus-
ceptibilities, <,f all the critics who watch ■ "I w. : , his conduct
the severest '>^ i;imself. We see this con- ■ n such cases
as that of ptuiussional self-respect. The • ist wJiose picture
has been the success of the season may tus \ray with dis-
dain from all the nnu-mured applause as hi glows :atislied in
his own mind that the woi-k is essentially «■■-., icious. If
STIXCT.
, ciiap. i.)
process of
n another
rnturally
iems to be
se the like
First u;'
s Viitchful
appear to
mt is the
judo-e the
;o himself,
he ju<lo'es
idf^'es that
> can only
h his own
an inider-
wliile ht;
arest and
He, there-
i freedom
er people.
to whom,
e known.
)r scandal
able mists
id, so will
^o too far
nstinct of
1 temper,
es a ver^
icate sus-
is conduct
■iuch cases
se picture
with dis-
>itistied in
cions. If
SELF-RESl'ECT.
67
he be a true artist with lofty aspirations, his canvas never
meets a critic more unsparing- than himself. Supposing' a
wealthy advertising manufacturer were to offer a great poet
£1000 to insert in his next work a single line that will putf' a
certain ware. Now if the poet were badly in want of the
money and felt certain not only that the line could be intro-
duced so as to look quite spontaneous, but also that none would
ever know the secret of its origin : why should he refuse ? Be-
cause if he knew of another poet who did so mercenary a thing
he would despise him. If a single line in that which he feels
should have a high and holy mission assumed the character
of a sham and an imposition his respect for the perpetrator
would instinctively fall. But even more would his respect
for himself be impaired by such a meanness ; and, to a mind
such as we are supposing, that loss would be the keenest of
all losses.
But it is not merely in the tine arts and in famous works
that this feature is seen. Every high-minded man who takes
a pride in his calling has the same feeling of sacred respect
for Ins work. I remember how a wheelwright once repaired
tor me the wiieels of a vehicle. The work was approved and
paid for. Yet the first time the vehicle passed the shop I saw
the artisan come to the door and watch with keenly critical
eyes the running of those wheels. He sent me a message that
he woul.l like to overhaul one of them if the vehicle coul.l be
returned to him. For myself I was amply satisfied, but the
vvork was a woun.l to his prolV-ssional self-respect an<l he
cheerfully spent some hours in the labour of briiK-ii...- it u,>
to a satisfactory standard. This is a temper we shouhrvainlv
look for in the bulk of mankind ; but it pervades the loftier-
minded minority in all ranks.
It is a feature wliich lias something in it always of heroic
.■u.d_ generally, therefore, even though sprung from mere pro-
essioml pri.le, it appeals to our moral sense. When his shin
has been wrecked aii<l the people are being got ashore, why
doe.s the cap am stand, apon the bridge till the end, thou-^h
wel aware that the last must inevitably be .(rowned ^ 5e
might easily save himself, and if he thinks of his wife and
little ones ashore, he has a strong an.l worthy motive for self-
' J
I ' '
Ik
I I
I-
lilt
li
,ip.
U t
68
THli ORIGIN AND (iHOWTH OF THE MOHAL INSTINCT.
proservHtion. But he descends into the tunmltuou.s breakers.
Why i Because, il' any other captain in such a case abused
his authority by savino- his own life wliile there were still
the lives of others to be saved, he would look on such a man
with eyes of professional disdain. And now, as a reasonable
and ri^dit-souled man. In. jud^res himself by the same measure,
and would rather die than become a scorn to his own future
judgment.
Quasi-Moral Self- Respect,
But though ill a majority of cases the action of self-respect
IS truly moral, it often enough assumes only a (luasi-moral
aspect; it is not seldom worse than that, for it is jweudo-
moral. At other times it is merely non-moral, and too often
It is warped so as to have a distinctly immoral tendency.
Self-respect in this latter case becomes what we call " false
pride," as when a man refuses to acknowledge a mistake, or
when he would rather not invite an old friend to dine with
him unless he could provide a handsome repast ; or when he
Avould rather not subscribe at all to a good object if he were
unable to make his checiue eiiual to that of his neighbours.
Self-respect gives rise to merely non-moral checks when it
forbids a .judge to ride third-class if it so chance thr/, he can
ill artbrd the first-class fare ; or when it prevents a bishop on
a frosty morning from joining in the boys' game of leap-frog
whereto he feels strongly inclined for the purpose of warming
his limbs. Its action is pseudo-moral when it 'tempts the man
whose daughter has been ruined to drive her from his home
and l)lot out her name thenceforth from the family. Its
action is pseudo-moral when it bids the widow spend in •
mourning garments that money which the family sorely needs
for food. In these and similar cases it is harmful by throw-
ing in the weight of its iiiHuence so as to accent the lesser or
only apparent matters of duty aii.l obscure the weightier or
more real.
But self-respect in its (juasi-moral aspect, though never
worthy of much admira,t.ion, is often of great practical use.
If a workman is active and does a full day's work only
th
NSTINCT.
IS breakers.
3ase almsed
! were .still
such a Mian
reasonable
le measure,
own future
SELF-RESPECT.
(i9
self-respect
|uasi-moral
is pseudo-
1 too often
tendency,
call " false
nistake, or
' dine with
>r when he
if he were
eiffhbours.
s when it
ir/' he can
bishop on
leap-frog
P warming
is the man
I his home
nily. Its
spend in ■
rel}' needs
by throw-
e lesser or
iightier or
igh never
3tical UMe.
ork only
because he would hate to be reprovnl by his ....n.iover
iHs mofve ,s n.ost certai.dy a kind of self-n.pect. Tl man
with no such feelh-g would, so Ion. as h. hJd his p/:
was sure of not ben.,- disndssed. listen with merely a « -in to
his employer s severest reproaches. Vet the self-respect of the
or„.er ,s much mferior to that of the man who nieds no r^!
•-uke ol employer or any other to impel him to industry His
actions stand to be judged by that nlfrr r,n which w.u'ld s.i.d
">" I-'- -. the evening with a sense of degradation if he had
|"ade a pre once of working but had reallv i.lle.l. For if he
|.s aman who is disgusted at shams in others, if h. resents
^rn^ cheate. and imposed upon in his dealings with h
■ts he would on those of others: and a sense of buvnoss
whic is^sentially sympathetic, will utterly condemn him'^
; ^ "^tshis employers in such a way as he would himself
in rT ;r . " ""'"'' '•^' ''''''''■'■ 'l^'"'^ "'-'« self-re pe
iorbids that he should ever appear, to his own eyes so ."u
creature as those men seen, who work while the r Jnn> " " i
ookmg, „ul dawdle when his back is turned. His' no i
then. IS truly moral: but in the other case, wherein Id'
respect thinks only of humiliation before othe, "^d ^^^ f^
uundia urn before his own Judgment, we shall call i Z^.
noi 1 , to , so tar as ,t goes, it is a perfectly efficient subs itute
for the nobler sentiment. ^^jsutuie
As another instance, let us imagine that a man is reso-
" ol^ strugghn,. to pay his debts. If his motive is that he
.nay stand honourably forth in his own eyes as one wh h !
pa.d to every man all that he owed, we Ly regard sdT
espect as of a truly moral type. But if it I merely cause
he hates the humiliation of being an insolvent: if 1 is me^I
attitude IS only this-" Oh, no I you won't catch me i th
Bank,,pte3. Com, i would rather die first." then we may cl
t luasi-mora . or its utility is almost as great for purpa
o .-actical nght conduct. But it wants the lofty diaracter
of the nobler foi,,; of self-respect.
Nor even fr- practical purposes is it quite as efficient- for
the n.orahty that is base<l upon the resolution to be true to
our own better selves has a greatness, a spaciousness, a com!
■^^1*1
; I;'
II
Tl
'fa
i'ii ^
\
i
)
II
I?*:
!i h
70 THE 0''JGIN AND ' ^OWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
pletenesv tliat uo other luorality can approach. For no other
moral v;i;iction can ,so keenly probe into the sliadiest corners
of our iiiinds, and ferret out the lurking nieanne.s.seH of motive.
Supreme then over our mo.st secret live.s, it ha.s power to stifle
wrong tliat no other check cor'''. " ^Huence. Suppose, ftjr
uistane.-, that a wealtliy .nend lent me some money in my
necessity, taking no receipt for it, the kindness being known
only to him and to me. Suppose that he dies, wha't motive
have I f(jr j-epaying that debt to the widow I Sympathy- >
But she is so wealthy that this small sum, though so nnicli to
me, is to her cpiite insigniHcant. Nor will the law attect me,
for there is no law dn-ecting me to pa}- money that is not
asked for. Thus for those whose notion of .luty is confined to
the law and the influence of surrounding opinion there is no
moti\L' compelling repayment. He who pays nuist do so,
because if he knew of any oi.e else who meaidy .said nothing
of the matter and let it lap.se, he would feel con t' nipt for
so base a character, and he detests the thought of standing
before his own eyes in so despicable a light.
It is, of course, inadmissible to assume that he is controlled
by the consciousness of an all-seeing eye of divine p(nver.
Firstly, beeaase abundance of men in ancient times who had
no such consciousne-o wi-re amongst the most noted for a
sense of noble self-respect. Secondly, Ijecause there are now
amongst th^ most eoaspicuoi dy upright men, great numbers
who have no «jnse, such as Milton had, of standing " ever in a
great Taskmaster's eye". And, thirdly, because those who
have had, and Mi;: have, that lielief, have ^ aried ,so radicallv
in their views of what divine power demanded of tfieni, that
we are forced to regard these views as only the exten;alisa-
tion of their own inner sense ui rectitude. In fact it is now
well understood that th onception of the Deity has been
ever rising and progress ^, k oing pace with men's moral
nnprovement, an<l. there' re. wc perceive that the veiy best
we can do, is only to invest that conception witl. (he noblest
attributes we Hnd within our own minds. It is thu mucli
less true that an innnutable Divine nature has been imprinted
on our minds than tliat we have proj.-cted our best i)ut mut-
able conceptions out into the heavens.
•
!m
NSTINCT.
or i)o other
iest corners
s of motive,
ver to stifle
ippose, t'(jr
ney in my
iii<;' known
hat motive
■sympathy ^
so much to
' att'ect me,
bhat is not
confined to
there is no
nst do so,
lid notliinir
nt'!;:pt for
f standing
controlled
ne ])ower.
i who had
)ted for a
e are now
t numbers
" ever in a
those who
» radically
:hem. that
cteri'.alisa-
it is now
has been
in's moral
very best
le noblest
hu much
imprinted
but mut-
SELP-RESPECT.
71
Among ourselves, one man bows before a mean and sordid
conception of God, and works uut the petty thoughts there-
with connucte.!. Another has a belief in a belligerent and
partial God, and afldresses his prayers for a victory to which he
must necessarily trample through bi..,xl. Another bows in
fear before the Omnipotent avenger, and yet another before a
mildly indulgent father. But in all cases, the moral sanction
we (lerive in our innermost selves from a belief in the all-
seeing eye of a Deity is only the best conception of duty that
we hav,- been able to absorb from the feeling of our time and
country. As members of the community, we learn to judge
others by that stan<lard of duty : and then, if our natures are
fiiip enougli to permit of it, we learn to judge our own actions
by the same standard. .Self-respect is thus the inward
application of an outwardly prevalent mode of thinking, and
the character of the Deity looms up before us in accoiSance
with this our best ideal.
The True Sanotiox of Self-Respect.
Tak a few examples in whieh there can be no mistake
whatsu r as to the source of this self-respect which is the
mn..r arbiter of our conduct. Suppose a lady is to spend a
whole day at home by herself, with no chance of l)eing seen
by any one; will she take the trouble to dress herself tidily
or will she spend the day in slatternly fashion ? It will all
depend on her sense of self-respect. If that is strong, uiougli
she may not ,bess as if to receive company, yet will she
comply with a certain standard of neatness. And wherefore i
Because an all-seeing eye is over her / Surely not. But
because she has grown accustomed to think meanly of women
whom she saw in unseemly neglect of their persons, and
though she will not, at any part of the day, move in the ..aze
of others, yet she will all day long move ful ! in her own gaze ;
whether mirror be there or not, she sees herself, an.l would
.( test to seem m her own ..ve.s such as the denizens of slums
or <lirty cottages luivu ,• : onud.
Now, then, transfer the example into one more distinctly
:;;!
72
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
iM:|
f ' ^
J
2 uv HH ^ r^'*^"':^" >- "-^"-t« - left aIo.K. in a
hb .uy. He , ,sl„„ choice, ,f he pleases, of anm.sinc. himself
with books o^ an impure ami sensuous tone. He l^oks nto
hem an.l tun.s away to duller an.l less spicy real. Xot
from the pressure of any law nor of public opinion ; both are
eju But he has a poor opnuon of those who at .liruier parties
retail inch^eent jokes ; he despises those who rush for p u ien
mnvsf..per reports; he honours an., respects the cleani; 3
3 nulful theretore, that in the future h. must stand up to be
jud«.e<l by h,s own inner self, he would wish his con luct to
appear such as shall cause no pan,- of shame. Hi et l
nevertheless, w II be entirely founded on the ideas which^^:
tuunm^ and habitual surroundings have impressed on a i^ d
ot las deoroe of susceptibility to sympathy
For m sympathy this con.luct finds its ultimate basis
Ir LTit wl", rr '' "^''^" ™'^' '^'^""^ instinctively
from hat winch would wron-. a woman, or by hurtin.. her
modesty le.we her a prey to her own remorse and the sco^n of
her associates: he would equally shrink from all pleasure
that are built upon woman's degra.lation. Such innate sympa-
hie have been educated by contact with the pure M^omen of
his ome and the lessons of parents, teachers'and p^:: ,^'
w nc he has learned to look with stron,. disapprobation upon
all that would debase his idea of woman ^
There i.s no foundation of any .sort for the view main-
otheis, tlia thi.s mward sense is innate-a supernatural mys
terious and unfailing, jud.^e of conduct. On the cont arv
what society praises, the individual will in general Ta to
P-^ and what he praises in others he ^^^
lumself. Those things that have had in all ages and in all
raee« a tolerably uniform consensus of approbatio^ will thereby
come o pos.se8s a peculiar weight and sanction ; and while
he individual IS unconscious of the multitude of sources f om
vvhich he has denve.I his opinion, yet the sense of self-re.specT
the standard by which he will Judge his own conduct, mult
TK^T? " ^'°'" ^^' .surroun.lings v which he lives
Ihat this ,s the case is clear from the infinite vagaries of
JSTINCT.
iloiK' in a
ii<,' liimself
looks into
liii-,^ Xot
; both are
)nnu,scient
K'r parties
!• prurient
:anly nquI.
I up to be
oiiiluct to
is action,
licli early
>ii a uiind
ite basis.
tincti\ely
rtiiitr her
! scorn of
pleasures
e synipa-
.'onien of
poets, in
ion upon
w main-
o many,
'al, mys-
ontrary,
learn to
nend in
xl in all
thereby
d while
es from
respect,
t, must
jries of
SELF-RESPECT,
73
the sense of self-respect. None can deny that oualitv in hi.-h
.legree to Plato an,l Aristotle: yet to neither of tlieni .li-Pa
reasonable u.,lul^a"nce in libertine pleasure seem at all incon-
sistent with that self-respect. Cato the Censor was peculiarly
^'ijte.l with this ,,uality, yet it in no way reproached him for
selhn^^ the slaves ^rown old in his service, and it eventually
impelled him to suici<le. Cicero M-as a man of hi-b self-
respect, yet for a sufficient fee b.> woul.l take a huye pride in
securiiij;' the ao.|uittal of a criminal of the deepest dye His
professional s.df-rosjx.ct would have been wounde.l by failure,
an.l he had no other self-respect in the matter. There was a
time when if a man of a hio;h sense of honour were struck he
would have felt absolutely boun.l by every feelinj,^ of self-
respect to wash out the insult in the blood of the assailant.
Amon^r the Jews and scores of other people a loss of self-
respect weifrhed upon the woman who reached maturitv with-
out fimhno' a husband. Amon^^ ourselves many womeJ would
teel themselves ,le,i.raded if they accepted a husban.l without
bem^- induced thereto by a most undoubted call of lov and
devotion. Montaione tells us that in the time of his father
the great ladies in France felt a loss of self-respect when they
could secure no lovers in addition to their husbands for it
appeared m public estimation as a sli.irht upon their charms
The lady who sails through the l^allroom in pride at the
admiration won by her beautiful neck and bosom, would feel
a deep wound to her self-respect if on her way to a bathroom
next monnng she were caught by a man in e-iual exposure
But If we run through all the list of the varying ideas of
decency amorig women of <lifferent races, for instance through
hose giv-en by Oscar Peschel (Rares of Man, p. 172), we see
that matters which we conceive to be most innately essential
to the sense o self-re.spect are of the utmost variability.
One rnan would feel his self-respect increased if he had
picked your pocket with great dexterity. Another would
eel himsel unutterably .legraded if he picked your pocket
but would be immensely satisfied with himself if he got the
better ot you in a bargain ; whilst a third would feel himself
mean and .lespicable if he tried to overreach you in any
transaction. So we may run on through endless instances
■ I
! ^
74
THE ORIGIN AXD GBOWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
the ,S3 mi^ithetic capacity of the inclivi.huil and on the in-
fluence ot .surrounding, opinion. You n.ay educate a child to
place some portion ol hi.s self-respect in any idea you please
to choose and if all the society he habitually keeps ha h
view such a sense will ..ow to be of o-.eat sLngth, whil
|t .s that entertained by the whole of the .societ/with wi:ich
.iii;i
i : i'l
Self-Respect I'hooressive with Time.
Hble in the standard of self-ivspect must arise from a pro. -ess
- s,-mpat y. For it is only when the syinpathy of L ?n.li:
I ,s touched that he will set himself in opposition to
^..lual IS rtecte.l in a certain way, the influence of l^eneral
that at each httle stao-e ol i.ro^nms which makes the emotions
ot men tenderer and more susceptible, the standard of self-
-spec w, alter in such a direction as will make the conduct
:f i^t; ^r'"'' -" ''- '"'-'^ -- ^-^^^^-^ ^^ ^^'^ —
But we have already s.nrn that, as a mattcn- of historic fact
n. sympat etic enrichn.ent has gone on in the general capa:
TeLt ;.'//""" ^^■^"^■'' '''^^" '' ..ot, .lisappear .steadily
before ho.se that have. Hence we should expel.! to Hud the
Ben,se of .self -respect also an increasing. ,uantity, as indeed it is
VNe may ott.M. hnd a .savage highly endowe.l with that
D UM I de,scribes, the uever-cea.sing wor.l, " Give, give " ; the
Au.s rahan who n. the very earliest times would abjectly beg
^^■UA^acco, nv ruea^Ay .tea\ the shepherd's rations or .sdl hit
^^.tes embraces lor money; the North American, n<>t ha-
■||";^n.ng or romancing as in Fenimore C^.oper, but seen in
H .In and obse,,uiousne,ss of ordinary life, is not rich in the
- .- ..I personal .l.gnity. He makes a poor con.pari.son with
Maun or Malaga.sy nv .Malay. These in their turn must yield
■V...
SKLF-RESPECT.
.'' I
to the erlucated Chinese or Japanese, while, on tlie otlier hand,
it is very noticealjle that the Oernian, the Frenclunan, tlie
En^'lishnian who goes to Cliina or Japan carries with him a
pei-sonal w(>ig-ht wliicli is (hie to tlie superior di-i-nity of his
genei-al bearino-. Surround the oriental monarch with all his
insioiiiu, and he ia still a man of less <lignity than the Euro-
pean aml)assador who approaches his throne in simple <ruise
but erect with the consciousness of all that is due to himself
and to his people.
We see the same jj^radations in all ranks of society. The
Innnblest may have many individuals of much personal dig-nity,
but in <;'eneral, all additions of e(hication and of position are
so many pledges of cari'ful cuuduct. They make the indi-
vi(hiat more watcliful of himself and of the appearance he
presents first to the wi^rlil and then in conseiiuence to himself.
And the same alteration is seen in histoiy. The averag'e
man would now l)e ashamed to conduct himself at meals as
our forefathers did some centuries ago; he would shrink with
a sense of personal pollution at many of their uncleaidy and
unseemly ways. Follow the lines of the sovereigns of " Eng-
laiici or of Franc»( and see how self-resti'aint increases with
the centuries, and how, along with diminishing frippery of
trapping and external state, along with an ever-augmenting
personal simplicity, there is visil)le a most evident develop"
ment of " self-reverence, self-knowledge, self-control ".
This increasing sense of .self-respect consUintly tends to
add a mnv and important Muction to the cause of" morality ;
on. which, as already shown, has the peculiar power of
searching into tlie innermost motives of the heart. Vet it
adds nothing new to the nature of morality. For Just as the
sense of duty onl;^' gives ti.xity and continuity to the funda-
mental morality of sympathy, so does the sense of self-respect
only extend inwardly and intensify the action of the sense of
(hi;v. But when all three are in alliance, how noble is the
resulting type! The man who utterly refrains fi-om wilful
harm to any of his fellows ; wlio, where his own emotions are
in iloubt, turns to the law of duty IVam,.d for him by the
opinions of thos(« he resp,;cts ; yet w'ho, if these are unavailable
or undecido<l, has his final appeal to the tribunal of .self-respect.
7fi TH,.: „B,C,,N AN,. GHOWTH OF THE MOEAL .NST.NCT.
Yet it i« k, 1,0 „otice.l that th.. ,a-,l,.,. „r ,„m„tiiu,cv is (ho
»vo,.,. „l tlut just ,-iv.,,. Tl„. ».„«,. of self.,,, ,, ,
'"' ""■ ""I"-"; "■'«>'■- «..c-ic.tj- ,v.,„M rail to Uc„ ,ri
•■»"' w..,v a la„. ,„„„ |„„„,||. Soil-,,.,,,,, .nSykMt^t.
p,.,.,o,. c,,,,.„c,. or ,,„t,. M„, ,„.r, it.;,,,. ,„„„, ° -
t ^ '-"at.e ; l,„t .f I s.w a iun.tic on hounl ship approach ,!
J"«ti<^t I, .1 no othor possible way of salVty pmsontc.I its.lf
- -su,. ,„y ^„n an.I shootin^ hin. .load ol L ^p!l '
It ..WW he sai.l in reply that the .,avin^ of the lives of all
in the slupis merely a higher duty, and that the higher ,lu v
o^^Tnlos the ower But of course this is preeisei;th v^
I an now man.ta,nn,.. For what is it that n.al<:.s the "
<l"t.N ...her than the other > Merely that it rests on •, more
-J^usym^^^^^
" J at c , hut a Ino-hei- syn.pathy forbids me to ,nve hin an
odd chance of savi,.^ his life at the gravest risk <^ .i .^
-'•y MS own l,„t that of a whole ships con.pany. ^
acceX'^sT'^r"'"'""'^- l^"ty is a most useful
acctsso _y , se! -respect a t.a.isforn.ation of duty which lends
a P,eul.u- and n.ost efficacious assistance. ■• liut tl ' .
c ai tla by char.ty ,s meant a syn.pathetic kin.h.ess. And
tl.c subtlest a..alysis of morals in a properly experin.n, a
spjn^, .. .hstin^uished fron, the .Idi.htk/but'illui: I ^l
hmoo the transcendentalists. reveals as the true fo, n.dation
»» '^ tf.at ,s r,,d.t, the wine exercise of the ,,uality wh
apos le consi.lered as th,. greatest of all the graces' '
liut tnoui,.h the noble feelin.' of self-respect neither adds
SKLF-RESPECT.
77
up my
')nt lets
any new element to morality nor forms tiie paramount arbiter
ill coiidnct, its presence in a characttir is none tlie less the most
satisfactory evidence oi" a lii^di moral development. As (jeoi-fe
Sand declares in her Secretaire Inlivie, "the sentiment of
self-respect is the surest ^niarantee a<,^aiiist every form of de-
pravity ".
Sublime amono- inen is he who can walk uji the scaffold
W steps to his ignoble docmj, undismayed by hoots an-l jeers,
calm Hiid erect in the approbation of his own soul. Even so
« noble is he who through a life-time can move on upon the
path which his imuu- sense of self-respect marks out. For
I him there is no stumbling-block in the little meannesses that
% are sanctioned by u.sage, nor any pitfall in wrong that can
never be revealed. Though not praised, yet content if worthy
of praise ; though not succi'ssful, yet happy if success has
honestly and manfully been deserved, he moves ev(!r girt with
the dignity of a nature that can stand unabashed before that
inward Judge, never to be bribed, never to be hoodwinked
which pronounces upon each deed and every thought :—
Wiio, wlictlier praise of him iniist walk tlie earth
For ever, und to nohle deeds ^ive hirtli,
Or, he must fall to sleep witliont his fame,
Ai\d leave a dead improfitahle name,
Finds comfort in hims.>lf, and in his cause.
i
I, 'I
78
CHAPTER XVII.
THE BEAUTY OF KIGHT CONDUCT.
i^foRAL Ideals.
Yn^ .UK)ther sta.e .n.l the ,„oral in.tinct cuh„i„ate« i„ .,..
votion to ..ocxlncss tor its own .sweet sake. TJien does a n. u.
liontst. He seeks „o reason for liis alle^nance outsi.le of thl
"a ure oi the thin«. itself. He feels that to .lo rH t s -1 t
iui.l seeks no other ^ui-lance. ^ ^ *'
There are thus four levels of ascen.Hn^' worth but of
-Inunushn... extensiveness, in the n.otives of ri.ht con 1,; •
each .s nu^re a.hnirablc. than the last, but etiective " ^
lessene. area of nu.nkin.1. This last is the loftiest of alll u
.t app.Us only to those choicer souls who in .General fo „ u
a slender nnnonty of existing comnnnnties. Many Ttlt
who are ..pable of bein,- honest because dishonesty i an in"^
J.u-y o a lelbw a less nund.r are honest because honest; L
a .luty (apar . ot course, fron, the quasi-n.oral fear of punfsh-
.nen to be hereafter discusse.l). Fewer still are th y "t
az. honest because they would scorn to snnrch theni.|v"
ith baseness, and who dread the ren.orse of seeuun^. nu-an in
then- own eyes. Hut very \:^y indee.l are thoy who are ho. 11
w,th no thought of any consequence, near orC ^ x W
or entn-eb^ wiUdn themselves ; who love to dwell v:!:!,^: ^^
s they love o ndjal>it a repon of ex,uisite beautv, or to
..-.• a,,n.d e burest creations of ,enius, solely 'lecau
ihese are ni themselves de!it;'htful.
The n.an who feels a throb of enthusiasn, leap within hin,
as he turn oU road reveals a sweet prospect of hili and ia^
and the lar-oH mists of spaciou. fields and woudlun.ls- who'
THE BEAUTY OF UIGHT CONDUCT.
79
4
as a symphony melts at some tenderly mysterious resolution
of chords, thrills in waves of einotion : or who, as he rea.ls
some ^dorious passage of sublimest poetry, may' be seen with
heifrhtened colour and with kindlinjr eye, i.s likely enou^-h to
carry into the domain of mcjrals the same testhetic sensibility.
As an artist may devote his life to the passionate worship of
the beautiful, disdainful of all mercenary interests, so may
my soul of fine susceptibilities yi<!ld itself up to the charm
that seems inherent in ])urity and sincerity.
A woman may be chaste for one or more of several
motiives; there may be merely the home'y commonplace
reason that she woukl be sorry to bring trouble and dis-
sension into the family circle ; or she may bow liefore the
.lictates of a sense of duty long taught and ever enforced;
or she may have too high a sense of self-respect eve-r to com-
promise herself in such a way as to incur her own disappro-
bation. But higher, much holier than all of these is tlu^
feeling of the innate lov.diness of chastity, so that the virtuous
woman prizes it for its own sake above all treasures. Xo
material wealth can compensate her for its loss. She who has
it is truly rich: she who has it not seems poor and ,)itiable
even though e-very luxury that boundless means can supply
were heaped lor her daily gratification.
To such a nature there never occui's the (,uestion of results
It IS not that a modest lilV and j.ure thoughts brin.^ respect
and loN-e: it is not even the hope of an approving conscience,
And tiie s\v,.(>l p(>,i,.,. that K'.iodncs-; I)„s,,mis ever.
For although it be tru.- that purity an.l sincerity ort'-r the
most delicate, yet most lasting happiness that earth can .jtfer
yet ,s tins no part oC her motive. Though virtue should mean'
strife against every friend, or though it were certain to l.-in.r
tile inwar.1 unhappiness „f a struggle against a misplaced
passion, yet would virtue be the chosen path. If the choice
were to be wanton and live to share a throne, or to be in-
exorably chaste and die witliin the hour, still would th.- choice
lie virtue, whone own inherent b.^antv has awakeise-l a devo-
tion with which nought else can oope. This consecration of
moral beauty such as Milton calls in his r,>ma^,
^'f
I
Tf r
•1
i
i'f-[
) .
80 THE ORIGIN AXD GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
The sublime notion and hi^ri, mystery
And serious doctrine of virginity, '
i' Ute IT T' '■'^•''r' P""- °f «- ™™> U»tinct which
An honest mnn's the noblest work of God,
fcel>y ac,uiescin^ i„ the adnm-ation of honesty as a divinelv
noble attribute, one of those qualities to be cultivateln ll
^. l^e th. choicest Howe, of the ,^CCLl^
reason but then- own ".racious aspect. Yet everv morpl .,
seun-,no... quality, .nay assu.ne .Le o. leL^^ ^i^^^^:
, pitasuit , affords may be a reasonable equivalent for the
labour it uivo ves. Verv nrnb».M,r if i • . ^ <" "^*^
pleasure. For while itTt':: ^ '" " '™^'^ ^•^^"' ^^^^•
That that which is not good is not deli..ious
10 a well-governed and wise appetite,
of t*°,l'™:. "'it "■""' " 7"' "'""y" ""-- -,„. ,„„a,uro
pieZ oZive i\:':i*:; '° '^" i°'""?" "■'«"- "■«
of -ainin.. it V. H ; ' "'1'"™'--'"' for tile »eriflce
or .iiiimg It. \et tlu.t ,» „„ver tlie ouestion who,, tln%
This traiiseondental asneet of .■•. ...n
).,.,,. 'iMpt.ci (H an enthuNiaMu so inde»i..n
(,«.Klc„,. „.|,i,.l, ,„ak.. „. think ., i • ." :" " '. "'y"'*™""
NSTINCT.
inct wliich
3rce to the
t to Pope's
a divinely
ite;l at all
I' no other
moral, or
iH exalted
because it
whether
lit for the
fe'ive her
iiioasure
^ther the
sacrifice
hen this
th tilled
3i' iiiusic
the dis-
I« of the
that the
lie yield
;-fellow'.s
! hei^rjit
ndepcn-
ends to
sterious
oo pure
s elated
THE BEAUTY OF RIGHT CONDUCT. Ql
witli the first wann .Iream of love cannot bear to think of it
as be„.,. even distantly connected with that instinct o"natnl
winch re,o.ns through the aninual world, so when our o^ J
all of an eth:c .low, when love of truth and purity an ben
hcence nmkes us thrill at the aspect of a sereL i, eal we are
nK.t unwdhn, to acknowledge that it is of purely ri^ZZ
An.l to any one who has a tender sympathy with the sweet
Illusive drean^s of th. «ner part of hu„,a„ity, it is un-'rat^fu
work to seek „. any way to shatter the cha.tin. b rf Y
us very , evot.on to moral beauty itself n.ust ur.e us on
tor d we be filled with the sense of devotion to'the d al
•Ith^htful ol alsehoods. If this belief in the beauty of rio-ht
onduct as ben.,- an eternal and chan,.eless «.ui.le, wh cl h
ad no mort.1 growth, be only a pardonab^^ err^r. tl^ ^
xi«ht-nnn.led man wdl wish to cherish the delusion.
All Ideals are of Earthly Orkjin.
me J^i^rr" '-'" ,"P"'^^^' """^ "*^ unanswerable a.^u-
mtntwlich at once and inevitably overthrow the transcen
dental view of the moral ideal. For, firstly were it t r f
::d?n.:i: ir^r;;*;;;, "-;'-■-'■■■■« -o
u I ■ .. ^^ ivniK .So omon cou < imf
have been the i.leal of (Jeory-e Washin-fm, TL • T
'innn „ 11,. ^ ^vtisnniyton. | ho niterveninf>-
3000 years had wholly transfonned the nature of a Za
n „s aspn.t,ons. What was ri,ht and what wrl't
H 7 T' ;" ^'^^••^^•"'"•^"t- '» «lHvexy, in worship an
-jiHjy ha.l und..,.one the most radical alterations In Ihe
But in our own day also, the ideals of .ood men diHer A
( athohc priest has one i-jea! of oh.,,.stity tlu^ Protest mr i
■nan, with his el.,.ri..l.,..l ».;•■ .P \ ' *' ''^■^''^'t cieroy.
..an with his ehorished wife an,! family.has a wholly
Ideal
VOL. 11.
le <levoui Moslem with his f
(Uveryent
our wives to whom I
Hi IS
82
THE OHICilX AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
II (
true an.l faithful has yet another. AH our most clierisheil
ideals are held in diverse fashion by the ^--ood men of diflerent
people. And among ourselves they are always in a state of
slow transition.
Secondly, we have seen in antecedent chapters how our
moral „leals have steadily o-rown. From savage to l.arl.arian
h-om cvihsed to culture.l man, we have seen tlie notions of
chastity, of charity, of truth and freedom in process of de-
velopment. Each of them has been seen to spring up, as a
phase of that sympathy which more and more in the pro.a-ess
of man has displayed itself as the prime element in social
preservation.
Thirdly, however transcendental may appear the l)eauty
of ideal morality, the enthusiasm it evokes is closely paralleled
by other enthusiasms of whose earthly origin th.Te can be no
remotest doubt. There are few pursuits in which men take
an absorbing interest wliich .lo not to ardent s..uls present
very much the same power of awakin- unaccountablv fervent
emotions. The artist before the mysterious lovelim'ss of a
mountain sunrise ; the poet in the rustling canopies of a
solemn forest, each feels as if hi.s delight in Ijeantv were due
to a faculty of no earthly source. But if that were the case
we must allow as much to the expert g\-nniast who. from the
time when some master of e.xtraordinarv power has ..-rasped
the horizontal bar to the end of his evolutions, watches with
only half-drawn breath an.l absolutely rapt attention. Listen
to his outburst of ecst^itic applause and observe his /eal and
you will see that a Hne performance of this sort can wake his
■soul to the .same sort of rapture as a musician feels in an
ex.piisitely rendered sonata. Obseine the veteran chess-player
when two champir)ns are devetepii^r unknown beauties in an
elegant game ; see how the military entluisiast is carried away
as he reads of a most brilliant man.euvre which brou-ht
about the utter destruction of an army. Obsei-ve the
mechanician when liis mind grasps the central idea of an
intricate piece of machinery: to him there is an ex.|uisite
beauty in a new and ingenious invention. If y„n were
walking i)y a river bank with a man who in early , lays ha. I
b.'en a rowing enthusiast, and shoul.l chance to see a first-rate
NSTIXC'l-.
it cherished
of (litterent
n a state of
i"s liow our
' liarbarian,
notions of
cess of (le-
i^' np, as a
lie progress
It in social
tlie heauty
'■ paralleled
can he no
men take
lis present
)ly fervent
liness of a
>pies of a
' were due
e the ease,
. from the
IS grasped
ches with
n. Listen
! zeal and
wake his
iels in an
ess-player
;ies in an
ried away
I hrought
serve the
lea of an
ex(|uisite
t'ou wcrn
days had
tirst-rate
THE BKAUTY OP RIGHT CONJ)UCT. gg
crew sweep past on a final practice, you wouM see how a mere
sport can move a nmn's soul to its most secret depths. So too
a quondam boxmg amateur, if he sees two champion pu,.ili.st,s
«trrp or the contest, may make a perfect spectacle of hhnself
m h,s hoarse-voiced enthusiasm. Some with horses and others
with anghng; some with tiowers and others with wine: some
with cookery and others with ballet-dancing-, absolutely end-
less are the departments of human interest in which ; man
may experience an enthusiasm which absorbs all his faculties
and carries liini out of himself.
It i.s fatal therefore, to the transceiulental theory of moral
beauty that there is a complete gradation of such enfhusiasms
Some are or things base and unworthy in themselves, as the
Uyak Ideal of head-hunting, or as in the case of a man I
know by name who gave a bachelor dinner party to celebrate
Ins twentieth seduction. Others of these enthus asms are on
cerned with things which a considerable proportion of m n
pugilism ballet-dancing or warfare. Others are cncerned
with matters that are indifferent with regard to approbatLn
or .hsapprobation.such as the enthu.siasmrfor che.ss'jr cricke
^•uughng or for poultry-bree,Iing. There are others a't n
which enjoy a mild riavour of moral approbation, such asll e
J^.^ner;s .eal for flowers, or the meciliieian's Joy ^i ^en!
ons. hen we pass by degrees into the realms wherein our
^m H.ment y.ids its praise to the pursuit as one in W
wo thy to wake the noblest fervour; such as that of the poet
o^^ «. mus^ian. Finall^^ there are those moral enthusi^
^^hlch most profoundly mov, our admiration so tint we
should rather desiiv that one w. loved should l. a goo Jn
tan an excellent poet; so that we should have no'sntisZ
l^onin a brother who was a sublime painter but . .lespieable
Now in this ascending scale it is to be noticed that in
proportion to the beneHcial influence of an enthu!^ n if tl^e
fi pl> the truest happiness of mankind is -..dued above all
others. But in this respect there is no enth- ^iasin whTcrca"
compare with that of moral beauty. None .. . be m^rl dee^;
m
84 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
. useful nor more generally felt than the enthusiasm for truth
which will give to all men absolute reliance on the statement
or the promise of a man ; none more useful than the en-
thusiasm for beneficence which bids us assist and oblige all
who surround us.
When a man of ardent nature is not only filled with an
instinctive love of a certain sort of beauty, but feels likewise
that his zeal carries with it the admiration of all men far and
wide, his ideal becomes overmastering. A musician who for
the first time secures the score of some mighty composition
will become absorbed, forget his meals, and grow oblivious to
time and space. As he drinks in the meaning of the spots
and tails, the modulations and all the technical and artistic
significance of the dirty old manuscript, no Elysium can com-
pare with his raptures. Think of the joy of a Keats when
first I :. lipped into the Faery Queen, or caught a deep full
breas : .;■: Homer's inspiration through the voice of Chap-
mas;
\S «; tims .see that the assthetic glow of moral enthusiasm
is nothiiig individual and apart from all things else. It is
merely that by reason of the greater importance of its sanctions
and the wider generality of the approbation it brings, it gives
to the character a peculiar dignity which nothing else can
quite approach.
Yet this, of course, in no way accounts for the origin of
this enthusiasm for moral beauty ; it shows, however, that
most probably it is in its development analogous to other
enthusiasms. But all enthusiasms are fundamentally de-
pendent on the pleasure to be derived from an object or
pursuit. The man who finds a deep pleasure in contemplat-
ing an example of unswerving fidelity such as that of Regulus,
or feels his .soul kindle at the purity of an Imogen, has within
him the enthusiasms of the moral ideal. It is an extreme
pleasure to watch the operations of goodness in a character ;
it is most painful to observe the slow development of evil.'
If in poem or drama or story we ever take interest in wicked-
ness it is with the expectation of a pleasure in seeing it meet
its due reward, but the contemplation of beneficence Ts always
agreeable.
NSTINCT.
Ill for truth
3 statement
an the en-
1 obH^fe all
3d with an
ils likewise
len far and
in who for
omposition
bliviouH to
the spots
nd artistic
1 can com-
.eats when
deep full
of Chap-
nthusiasni
Ise. It is
s sanctions
fs, it gives
r else can
origin of
ever, that
to other
itally de-
object or
nteniplat-
:" Regulus,
las within
I extreme
iharacter ;
t of evil,
ti wicked-
ig it meet
is always
THE BEAUT V OF RIGHT CONDUCT. 85
A little consideration, therefore, will show that the origin
of the cesthetic pleasures of morality must be sought in the
causes which have developed the sense of pleasure in general.
This (luestion has in many places been admirably discussed by
Herbert Spencer, and to me his views scmu in the t ^lin incon-
trovertible. Yet I would desire here briefly t I with it
after my own fashion in so far as it touches on ui.; source of
the pleasure which we feel in beholding goodness.
OniGIX OF THE SeXSE OF BeAI'TV.
The sense of beauty is a department oi^ the more
general sense of pleasure which has two roots, one of
prnnary importance, in the experience of the race ; and one,
of much less con.sequence, in the experience ui the individual!
If every person at Hrst trial enjoys eating a ripe peach, that
must be by reason of inherited tendencies sprung from race
experiences ; but many persons who at first cannot endure a
banana come to be fond of it after a time. This is a capacity
for pleasure acquired in the experience of the in.livi.lual
Both will be found to play a part in the development of the
iesthetic pleasure of morality.
Dealing Hrst of all with the more important element let
us inquire why the sweetness of sugar is pleasant, ihit as a
preliminary we must ask the paradoxical ([uestion whether
we eat sugar because it is sweet, or whether it is sweet becau.se
we eat it. 8o far as the experience of the individual uoes the
former statement expresses the truth: he eats the sm.ar be-
cause ,t is sweet But the far more fun.lamental tnith is
that sugar is .sweet because men must eat it. Of the three
forms in which food is assimilated in our systems, su-nir is
not the least important. All our food stuffs which are neither
proteids nor fats must be either sugars or else starches which
are Hrst converted into sugars in order to be dissolved and
absorbed.
Sugar is therefore the Hrst and most easily assimilated of
our three fundamental forms of fond ; and \n the state of
nature sugar is mainly attainable in the form of ripe fruits
In the history of man's progenitors, therefore, it was of ex-
• • 1"
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1
86 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
treine importance that he should be able to pick out nutritious
fruits from those unsuitable to be his food. Tiiose who
wasted their etibrts in chewinf>' pine-cones or eucalyptus
berries would have but a poor chance in comparison with
those whom a safe instinct of taste led to the wild peach or
the orape. Moreover, all fruits pass throu<;h a sta^e in which
an iiniutritious woody fibre prevails ; not until this has chan^'ed
into the form of sugar is it suited for men's food. It is plain,
therefore, that if a certain sensation of taste could induce the
individual to pass over the unripe fruit and pick only the
ripe, it would yield a material assistance as a means of pre-
servation. A sensation which is a sufficicsnt motive for us to
wish its continuance is called pleasant ; one which itself induces
US to seek its cessation is called unpleasant. Great advantage
must therefore have ])een derived when the organism became
so adapted that the taste of a ripe fruit tempted the eater to
go on and finish it, while the taste of one unripe made him
throw it away. Still it happens among ourselves that in-
dividuals not well ecjuipped with this discrimination die out ;
quite a small army of children, and even of adults, peri.sh
each year through eating green fruit ; whereas an inclination
for really well ripened fruit is so useful to the system that
we may readily conceive of those who have it, as being on
the average rather longer than others in the duration of their
lives.
But what is this compared with tlie cuUing-out process
among primeval man, before intelligence came to reinforce the
teachings of instincts, and all our present variety of food became
possible ^ The savage who eats a (juantity of green or indi-
gestible fruit because it is near his camp will never survive,
as he does who is willing to wander a few miles out in search
of other fj-uit that will be truly ripe and sweet. But long
before man appeared at all upon the scene, the organis?i's of
his predeces.sors had become so adapted that the sen.sations of
the palate were at once the motive to exertion and the means
of discriminating between the safe and the un.safe.
There is nothing iidierently pleasant in sweetness, nor
anything inherently unpleasant in Ijitterness. It is merely
that in p»'C'..,oion as an organism became adapted to seek
I INSTINCT.
out nutritious
Those who
Dr eucalyptus
iparison with
ivild peacli or
ita^e in whicli
is has chanj^ed
I. It is plain,
ilil induce the
lick only the
neans of pre-
tive for us to
itself induces
)at advanta^^e
misni l)ecanie
I the eater to
pe made him
lives that in-
ition die out ;
idults, perish
in inclination
) system that
, AS bein<;- on
ition of their
^-out process
reinforce the
f food became
;reen or indi-
lever survive,
out in search
t. But long
organi.sTps of
sensations of
nd the means
*e.
k^eetness, nor
It is merely
pted to seek
THE BEAUTY OF RIGHT CONDUCT.
87
the repetition of tastes coiuiected with the luitritious and
to avoid those connected with the innutritions, so did it tend
to survive. There would be for ever, therefore, the weeding
out of individuals less qualified to be moved by a stimulus o^t"
this sort. An<l so it comes that things are sweet to us because
we need them for food: although, so far as the individual is
concerned, he being born with his oi-ganism tunei
I'y
ong
ages of preparation, seems to eat a thing only because i't
is sweet.
But to ditt'erent animals the saine pleasui-able sensation
comes from widely ditterent substances. I kept for a couple
of 3-ears a marsupial, tlie koala, which never woul.l taste fi-uit,
bread, sugar, biscuit, oi- water: once or twice a little milk was
accepted, but otherwise its diet was exclusively eucalyptus
leaves: and in the morning, when it heard the click of the
gate which announced to it my return with a bundle of tender
green gum-tree branches it manifested every indication of
delight. Every organ in the animal, even the very milk it
secretes for its young, is powerfully scented with eucalyptus
oil. Strange to say, though cow or sheep is absolutely starv-
ing it will never so much as touch these leaves, wliich are so
delightful a morsel to a few marsupials. But the whole
experience of diet among animals proves conclusively that
things are not pleasant in themselves, but that organisn<s
survive only on condition of being so adapted as to Mud
pleasure in that nourishment which is within reach.
No change whatsoever need be made in analysing the
source of the pleasures of smell. But in regard to heriring,
though the principle is the same, the application is diti'eri'nt.'
Darwin has long ago shown that voice is one of the most
potent of sexual charms. In the wide expanse of forest that
once covered the dry land of earth, the call of bird oi- mannnal
must have greatly facilitated the mating of the pairs, and
still among mankind the voice is a potent spell in producing
the mysterious tlulll <jf love. A full rich woman's voice
awakes a response in the imiermost nature. Xot less to
woman is the power of a deep bass voice, whispering t(>nderly
in her ear in an evening stilhiess ; the meaning of tiie words
has no more inwardly bewitching power than the tones in
- 't
..I
i I ?'
h
!■
irij,
88 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
whicli they are uttere.l ; an.l the or^rani.s.n ,so tuned will take
m more ^^eneral circumstances, something, of the same pleasure
in the music of young affection's converse.
How silver sweet somid lovcn
toii;;iKv
'>>• niglit.
Ihus m part has arisen the sense of the pleasure we feel in
certain sorts of sounds. But there has been one other con-
tributory cause, the inriuence of iono- habit in makino- scMisa-
tions aoTeeal)le. The man to whom co.l-liver oil or miinin.- has
been prescribed finds the taste at first disagreeable. But the
ind.vi.hial organism adapts itself to continued impressions
especially if they are beneficial to the organism. He who
visits a guano vessel hohls his nose and escapes, b„t those who
Imve sailed in one for a year or two and n.ade it their home
express rather a liking for the odour. So with sound The
man who goes to dwell in a house by the ocean beach is dis-
turbed by the never-ending roll of the surf: its hoarse mono-
tony IS painful; but if he lives there for twenty years he will
probably long, wlu-n he leaves it, to have the soothing sound
of the waters again in his ears. The countrvu'.an who .-ces
into the great city is distracted by the cea.^ dattei- of
raffic: to the city man ,t is pleasant, and w.S. • ,.e can stand
tor a change the silence of the country .luring a week or two
lie has quite a longing to be back once more amid the familiar'
rumble.
There is nothing more certain than this fact, that the
organism does a.lapt itself to its .surroumling eircnnstances.
I he man who leaves a cold climate to dwell in a warm one is
at first much mcommo.led. But after twelve or Kfteen vears
of the new conditions, if he returns to his native land h^ feels
as it the warmth he had left behiml w^ould be n.ost grateful
1 ou y..s,t a bachelor who tells you that of all things in the
world l.e IS unable to endure, the worst is the clatter and
chatter o children. You visit him ten years later, to tin.l
him delighting m the noisy sports of his little familv Ini-
tiated by slow .legrees, custom has grown secon.l nature.
TUANSMirrED CaI'ACITIES of PLEASrRE.
We cannot .Urectly apply this i.rinciple to the experience
INSTINCT.
lied will take,
<auie pleasure
ight.
ire We feel in
lU' other con-
inkiiio- sensa-
r(|iiiiiin(' has
le. Hut the
impressions,
11. He who
lit those who
t their home
sound. The
beach is dis-
oarse niono-
^ears he will
tiling' sound
111 who ;^'oes
clatter of
^e can stand
^eek or two,
the familiar
■t, that the
cumstances.
varm one is
ifteen years
11(1, he feels
'st ^frateful.
iiiK^ in the
clatter and
t'r, lo tind
mily. Ini-
nture.
experience
THE BEAUTY OF RIGHT CONDUCT.
89
of the race without assuming the transmission of accjuired
characteristics, a matter under discussion and on the whole
improbable. But indirectly it is applicable, for he who Hiids
the greatest pleasure in all of nature that surrounds hini must
lead on the whole the most healthful life. One of those
organisms to which every cock-crow is torture and the rustle
of the wind in the trees is absolutely dir.tressing, is likely to
lead a peevish life, and fail utterly to compete with him who
finds a healthful satisfaction, a reason for brightness and
contentment, in everything around him. So it will come that
the ear attuned to the sounds of nature will have a slowly-
creeping tendency to propagate itself and supi)lant that which
IS less in accord. Thus the hearing of man becomes the
gateway whereby all sounds of nature Hud entrance for an
inrtuence of mysterious charm. The rustle of spring leaves,
the falling of streams, the cadences of birds, the tones of the
human voice, have all grown beautiful by reason of habit in
the race.
But it is in the pleasures of sight that we tind this genesis
of the feeling of beauty most evident. The sky never became
blue to please our eyes, but our eyes have grown adapted to
find pleasure in the blue of the skies. All forms and colours
give a natural and fundamental delight in proportion to their
fre()uency in the experience of the race. Only in some things
is novelty tolerated, and that generally but for a time. A
scarlet sky would be utterly wearisome to us, because our
eyes are tuned to the mild stimulus of the smaller and
gentler undulations of a soft blue-grey : so huge a mass of the
larger and coarser undulations of scarlet would yield a pain-
ful impression to our unaccustomed eyes. The green of sun-
lit grass in eai-ly spring time is inexpressibly tender and
refreshing to our eyes, but that is no (juality of the colour it-
self. It is only because the human eye has learnt to Hnd a
healthy joy in its dwelling-place. So in the cool greys and
purples of shady spots, and in the mysterious gradations of
brown on tree trunk and in withered leaves and bare earth,
the eye finds its own delights: as for those more striking
Colours, such as crimson and orange and peacock blue, we love
to see them in smaller quantities in places where custom has
il
S
:' '4
P
'IB J If .
90
THK ORIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
Uli'l
I
h^i
1
i
il'
!
1 :;
1 ■'
i
H'Hde the.n funuliar to our oyes, in the spots forn.e.l by
gorgeous blossoms, or in the evanescent richness of sunset
.So, too, with the forms of nature. The shapes of clou.ls
seem ox,,tns,te an.l the contour of the trees a deep .leli.hf
the hmbs of mannnals an.l the necks of Im-.ls, with all daises
of curves an.l proportions that have been familiar to man
fron. l„s primeval experience, these Hn.l in our natures a
mysterious response, because an age-Ion^, habit of the mammal
eye has ina.le us susceptible to their inHuences. But even more
potent in the genesis of our notions of visual beauty have
been the inHuences of sexual emotion. If the voice is pro-
vocative of amat..ry feeling, much more so is the si-ht A
race ot men t.)o col.l to be readily move.l by swe^t lines
of woman s cheek an.l chin an.l neck, or by the curves of
h..r bosom or her limbs, is in a fair way of slowly vanishing
to leave room for more impressionable races. Thu„ in the
course of ages a seemingly mysterious response in the man's
nature gives rise to an i.leal of female b.-auty
On the other han.l, tl... mai.len who too curiously weiohnl
the pains an.l cares of maternity, or too greatly value.lthe
caresses of the home circle, or too prou.lly resolve.! to main-
tain her freclom, w.)ul.l be numbere.l with the vestals and
))e.|ueath no share of that i.liosyncrasy. But she on whom the
sidelong glance at brawny limbs, an.l Howing bear.l and
comman.hng features exercise.l a magnet power, woul.l leave
all, an.l give up her most cherishe.l pursuits in obedience to that
one master impulse. Hers would be the chihlren an.l the
gran.lclnl. ren, an.l at every generation this mysterious power
of an Ideal ot manly handsomeness would be emphasise.!
But as Darwin long since pointed out, hereditary .'.uali-
ties un. ergo some .legree of inter-crossing as they are trans-
terre.l from mother to .laughter, from father to son The son
may inherit some share of his mother's tendency to look with
satisfaction on a tall and well-made man, while the .lau.-hter
n.ay, in lessene.l .legree. inherit her fathers susceptibility to
the inHuence of temal.. form an.l movement. Thus there
arises m mankin.l generally a .louble type of beauty. The
soun.l of a w.)man\s voice becomes typical of ,11 that i^
most ex.piisite to the ear; not necessarily that the sound
i INSTINCT.
;s Formed by
of Huiisot.
pes of clouds
•leep (lelif^-ht;
ith all classes
iliar to man
ir natures a
' the rnamnial
>ut even more
beauty have
voice is pro-
■he siyht. A
sweet lines
lie curves of
ly vanishiuir
Thus in the
in the man's
isly Weighed
■ valued the
ed to main-
vestal.s and
n whom the
beari 1 and
would leave
ence to that
!n and the
I'ious power
asised.
tary ([uali-
' are trans-
1. The son
• look with
e dau^diter
ptibility to
''hus there
luty. The
ill that is
the sound
THE BEAUTY OF RIGHT CONDrCT. ft
in itself is truly so: but that in tlu; nature of thino;s we
ourselves are l)ound to have been so developed as to
feel it so. The type of <li<,mity and vij^our is in similar
fashion derived from the iniiuence which nuin's api)earance
has upon the female heart. In our most artistic inia<rininjrs
men and women remain ever the hifrliest ideals of beauty:
no lon^;- poem or lengthened tale could win a ^a-eat esteem
if it confined itself solely to the beauties of nature or
to descriptions from wliich a human interest was absent;
that is, in which beauty of either one or other of these types
most potent over our minds was entirely unrepresented.
In all inytholoi,n,.s these two forms of beauty l)uild up the
hiji'hest ideals, nor has the n()1)lest of irlio-ions «!ver <rot
beyond them. Its fondest ima<ri„i„o.,s luwe never yet
pre.sented an inia<.-e that is not compounde.l of earthly
elements, for au<;ht else would Hiid no lesponsive chord with-
in our natures. Our eyes respond to lif,dit and its charms of
colour, our ears to sound, and both senses to the iniiuence of
female <,frace and of manly streno-tb. l^it us into a world of
new orders of beauty, no matter thou^di intrinsically higher:
it could have no more response from us than a <,dowino' sunset
from a blind man. A jelly-tish placed in a most tasteful
drawinf,r-room, a cow introduced to a noble concert, a
Hottentot invited to make free use of a mafi'iiificent library
would not be more oblivious to the delicrbts within reach than
we should be to any beauty not strictly analo^'ous to those
of this world for which alone our minds have acquired sus-
ceptibility.
It is very possible, indcied, that this earth contains many
forms of beauty utterly unknown to us l)ecause w.' have ac-
quired no faculty of perceivino- them. They have perhaps
been unconnected with any of our needs of sustenance or
propa<iiition ; and, l)einf.- indifierent, our oi-^ranisms have never
learnt to respond to them any more than a worm's to lioht, a
fish's to melo(iy, or a hen's to sound loo-ic. It is hiiihly inrpr(ib-
able that our poor six senses, more truly only three, and even
these, mere raniiHcations of a fundamental one, should nieasui-e
all^ the capacities which nature has of actin,i;- upon a sentient
being. The world may be full of potentialities of deliyht,
I 1
nm
92
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THK MORAL l^^STmCT.
wh. h are as nothing, to as, whose or^^anisms have never
needed then- stunulus to preserve ourselves or our race
Eveiy peasure then, that we experience, implies a sensa
tion wh.ch, havin. been always beneficial, we a -e incline I
ihtf X^: r T'"" '"'"""t t''*^ '''^te of the be^n„ni„,. of
that adaptation, the more dppnKr .,,,-j ^ • , . ^
is the oHv.rM-f, P "loie 'eeply an<l mysteriously implanted
^s ht capacity of emotion that is connected therewith
^ ^ Si^rT T "^ ""• ^^^ ^•'" ''-^ ™«^^^ ^>^ t^- ^«- :
^H e ; f ' f "'""" "^^ '""* ^ ^'"^•^' "^ P-''''3' bottom.
apxiLs .u . olten somewhat latent; and, when they are at a
ouc awakened, they leave us the impression of eclurfVont
a tai-ofi experience, as indeed essentially they are echoes o
~:^::, 7 -r ^^^-^ ^" ^^ ''' ^" *^« o;:';i:'::o^
tnnt v\ hui man s prooenitors .Iwelt in forest or sea-maro-i„
he essential feature of it all is this, that obje ts ^ "ot
.nade p easant to suit our senses, but tliat our senses
h. so developed in a pre-existent order of things as to Zl
po i 1 vi "".^ "••' ''"'*' "^ °^"^^*^'""^'" ^>--« the fullest
possible vo-our from its surroundings: and in the stern
pctuated their species whose natures were most liealthfullv
Sympathy has Gimu-x to m ax Ideal.
If we apply these general principles to the .niestion <m
w tness in othpr« Ti, .1 . ""'•^^'^•-« ^"t <lelightlul to
, " "t'»«»«- Ihe mother who lavishes her tender I,,vp
upon her infant must feel a joy in if for t „
conrlitmn ,.f fi i- n . '' "^ ' "" ^^at IS a prune
condition ot the fullest and most beneficial exercise of her
INSTINCT.
THI': BEAUTY OF RIGHT CONDUCT.
93
maternal care. Women wlio look upon the happy pair, the
mother overflowhig with fondness, tlie babe responsive with
trustful devotion, feel their hearts melt at the sijrht, for they
inherit a nervous frame mysteriously susceptil^le^to the same
inrtuenees. Even bear, led men feel a sense of pleasure at the
scene, for they too are bound by ties of inheritance with the
maternal instinct. Their nerves respond in lesser de^n-ee to
the same .stimulus of sight and hearing. Hence there arises
a general feeling of the inherent beauty of parental and of
filial love. Thus in the crow<led theatre, when the mourning
mother recognises the strawberry mark on the arm of her
long lo.st child and the two cast themselves tumultuously into
each other's arms, there is a burst of rapturous applause that
informs us with deafening emphasis how deep in the heart of
man lies the sense of a moral beauty in the parental relation.
This enthusiasm in liner minds acijuires a character of perfect
holiness. Many a man in elderly years holds in his heart of
hearts a touching image of his mother: how these early
days with all their kisses, caresses and songs, her loving
fingers that tucked in at evening the clothes round curly hair
and dimpled chin, or buttoned the top-coat when with a k'- ■,
the little fellow was sent away to morning school, how every
experience of that constant flow of love helps to form a shrine
too hallawed to be opened to the vulgar gaze. And when we
read the biography of a great man wherein some glimpse
gives brief revelation of these deep and sacred feelings in
another mind, we are all conscious of the thrill that rises at
the sight of something exijuisitely beautiful.
But if parental love has this deepest and most potent
character of beauty, scarcely at all behind it comes the con-
jugal sympathy. Half the stock-in-trade of poet, dramatist,
and novelist would be gone were we not all conscious of an
exijuisite pleasure in witne.ssing the ideal of youthful love,
pure, ardent and devoted. It is not merely that we are
happy in the happiness of others ; it is not merely that
If Heaven ii drau^lit of heavenly jiloasure spare,
One cordial in tliis nicianciioly vale,
Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair
In otiior's arms breatlu> out tlio tender tale,
Beneath the milk-white tliorn tluit seents the evening gale.
l!;i
94
THE ORICHN AND ..ROWTH OF THK MORAL INSTmCT.
( 1
t
I h
fli
iTluA ^ '" " '^''"^ '''''^^'' 'i^'^-" 'o^« of Romeo
and Juhet was mcst unlmppy, yet to our eyen it seen.s most
bew,tehn.,,ly beautiful. For it is a primary an.l n l^rv
s n.e o our race that rouml the eLly pL.l oF ^^f
thei^. should ^ratlier nnpulses „f pleasure ami hope ^'
So. too, there is beauty ir, the social sy.npathies It is a
ohar„„„,. s,.ht to see brothers and sisters dlellin.; to' et ler
m mutual atfection a„,l helpfulness: an u,ly selatfo to
hnd arnon^ them quarrels and ill.feelin. y' t i we tk s
there any n.hereut reason in the nature c^f things wl7y th one
n::^S.^"''f ";' ^'^-^her.,isa,reeablf. we' o^^
ansvver that smce fanuly union has for countless «eneration^
!>-.. benehcal, ministerir.. to the happiness of the^^ vt,u '
and to the strength of the family, sj that by it, , " '
dw.dual has the fullest opportunity of personal aJ.U^Z
and the lannly the greatest chance of spreadin.. t "as
absolute y n,ev.table that ideas of pleasure shouh ad.er
round the s.f,dit of family affection '^
to hl^i^^ T'l^T''' '''''''''''''' '^^^^
to nospitaJity, to philanthropy. Thev 'ill «.>,„., i
because bein, useful to the Llth ^Z :!U^'^ T '^'
our systems have .rown adapted to fin<' pleasure nth'
exercse of them or in their conten.plation. ^ '^"
llius the same natural process which has n..,do ,-f
pleasure rn the former cases seems more easily explica
in the lattei it is more mysterious, bein^ of an emotional
character but in the concluding, chapters o^f this boori p "
pose to show that tliere is no inherent dirterence • that all
emotional conditions are due to chan.^es of thrceibttl "
distin,.iished from the peripheral nervous system ""
In the meantime we are not concerne.l with'the physio
o,nca basis of the pleasure. It is enough to Iw Z^
around an experience so vital an.l so habitual to the L at
INSTINCT.
it that to us
e of Romeo
■seems most
(1 necessary
of matiii^f,
es. It is a
If,' to^fether
ensation to
we ask, is
fhy tJie one
I'e can only
,'enei-ations
individual,
aid the in-
^■(-'lopiiient,
|,i,^ it was
lid <,^Hther
aatriotism,
beautiful,
the race,
I'e in the
liide it a
ly in the
look into
"ection, or
vte. The
splicable,
iusations.
inotional
'k I pro-
that all
intra! as
physio-
ow that
! race as
THE BKAUTY OF UKiHT CONDUCT.
m
that of sympathy an instinct of pleasure has arisen and that
this is stroufT and deep. When, in the children's readin<r-
book, there is the story of kindness shown by do^r, or elephairt,
or horse, it awakens their youn<r enthusiasm : and in the
numberless picture-books provided in these days for the little
folks, the authors are generally astute enou|rh to work freely
upon this fundamental instinct. They can rely on Hndiiio- it
in its simplest and least sophisticated state : and so, the hc^rt
of the childish reader is awakened to tender but pleasurable
emotions hy the aspect of all manner of sympathetic relation-
ships.
Hence Comes the Moral Ideal.
Havinj,' seen therefore how it comes that sympathy seems
beautiful in itself, a thin^r to be loved in others and cherishe.l
in ourselves, we can easily understan<l the ori^nn of the
moral ideal in its most «,'eneral form. The man whose nature
is readily susceptible to this sort of beauty will re^rard it as
an ugly thing to deceive a neighbour by telling him a lie, or
to injvu-e a customer by giving him short weight. Hence a
mysterious sense of the innate loveliness of honesty will be
that man's highest motive i), , tuluct: and that motive will
seem to be unconditioned. U will seein to depend on the
nature of the conduct itself, and not on its possible or
probable results. So we come to forget the utility of
maternal attection, of conjugal Hdelity, of patience and kindli-
ness, because our organisms have so grown thi-ough long past
centuries as to be adapted for fin.ling pleasure in the con-
templation of these (pialities.
I have already spoken of a certain ditierentiation in the
sexual developments of the ideal of physical beauty which, to
our eyes, reach their noblest height in the grace of woman,
the vigour of man. Precisely the same culmination occurs in'
the ideal of moral beauty ; there are two types, not mutually
exclusive, however, but blending and overlapping ; one is the
womanly type of gentleness, sweetness and soft pity: all
that is good through incapacity to injure, and through an
innate yearning to give happiness: the other is the manly
!!'' f.S
hi '
m^i
H'
^ll
9<5 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
type With scorn of all that i. cruu/mg, and an uncom
pron..n, ..efiance of all that i. fal.se o^ tPi-annica?. EaZf
aftti hex i r.st nit.rview ^.oe.s home to dream of the man of
ZTr " ■; ''• r' •"^^'"-""'•ty. -'- i.s filled with a
o d .hsdan. o anytlnn. so cowardly as a lie, absolutely
teazless „. devotion and honour. How she would like to
have such a one to be lier protector thiough life: .^nd so there
rises what wo may call the ideal of masculine n.oral beauty
Ihe uleal that is most attractive to men is nuite ditierent •
ior whdst the female fonn has :, econ.e hi.' stan,!!;:; f
physica beauty, the fen.ale disposition has become his
standan of moral ^race. Attractive though the charm nmy
be ot soft curves and delicate tints, still more attractive ai^
pure thoughts, gentle wonls and kindly wavs. It is useless
for poet or novelist to present to us for our love an.l interest
a heron.e of mere personal beauty: there are certain qualities
of soul that W(,> all nistmctively desire to see in her
A daughter must inherit some of her father's way of
ju.lgmg women, and a son some of his mothers mode of
apprec.ahng men. Hence the masculine and feminine tyv^es
of moral beauty are very far from being sharp and dis-
inct. The noblest type of man is as gentle as a woman;
the most admn-able woman is as fearlessly truthful as a man
Yet the difference is pronounced. If a girl should suddenly
see her affianced lover in a thundering passion it would
probably not greatly infiuence her feeling, because not incom-
patible witli her Ideal of man the protector. But if the lover
saw his betrothed maiden in a similar fit of anger the
engagement would probably soon cool off; such an exhibition
would be utterly at variance with the prevailing ideal of
woman, the sweet and gentle.
Thus we have seen that the exercise of sympatliy was
sure to grow lovely in the eyes of man, and that a process of
sexual selection has intensified. the feeling an.l caused a very
evident, though not sharply defined, divergence to arise
between the female and the male type of moral excellence.
Ihe picture of a man thrusting a spear into the enemy of
hi.s country is not discordant with the popular ideal o/ the
THK liJCVrxV OF KKi
HT CONDUCT.
07
a.lmiral.Ie man: Init on., of . won.un en^ra^a-.l in the same
nakos lo e to a num excites our aversion, while no such
ehn, ttaches to the n.an who n.akes love to a woman. In
.MCoies ot instances, ,t nuiy be seer, that what is n^ht for the
one sex is wron^^ for die other. "
The operation of natural selection has been to endow the
•luahty o sympathy with an aspect of ideal beauty, while
exual selection has enhanced and inteasiHed this quality of
beauy andsoditterentiated it that two types-the' .racious
and the nobe-r.se out of a common foundation of moral
J.oodne.ss. These have been processes of the race, and leave
us with inherited i.Ieals.
But within the experience of the individual also there is
much as I have alrea.ly shown, which fosters or thwarts the
^a-owth o i.leals, and which may becon.. so closely incorpo-
rated with his nature as to seem an essential part of himself
Ihe boy born nito the famdy of a fox-hunting. .s.pnVe ma^'
perhaps .levelop from other circumstances the ideal of -i
student life, but the chances are ten to one that hi.s ideal
man i.s ^ntted with courage to ride and skill to manage a
Jiorse to jump well, shoot well, bestow a lordly alms an.I
maintain he dio-nity of the name amongst villagers and
tradespeople ; his ideal may even include an appreciation of a
good .^ass of beer or of wine, and a discriminating taste in
the mat er ot cigars. Indeed a little upper-class objurgation
may add a flavour to what his surroundings have impressed
on him as the highest ideal of a man. How different the
Ideal ot a lad born, let us fancy, into the family of a German
musician, his earliest recollections bound up witJi music as the
only worthy pursuit of life, all the friends of the household
bringing with them at nearly every visit their instruments
the conversation at every meal-tin.-e being praise of this per-'
tormance and cundemnation of that. In such an atmosphere
Uie idea' man will be essentially dirterent from that of the
llinglish squire's son.
So we find that from nation to nation, from profession to
profe.s.s,on, from rank to rank, the circumstances amid which
the individual is place.l will radically affect the nature of his
VOL. II. 7
t:
f
98
THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OK THK MORAL INSTINCT.
11
^ i I
i.leal And it is to l,o notico.l tliat those .lifforences are not
nierely skin-.lecp; tliey are profound and fre(,uentlv unalter-
able impressions. The ffirl brou^dit up in a strict);^ virtuous
family will have an ideal of modesty wholly different from
what It would have been had she been trained as a courtesan
tor a Hin.loo or Greek temple, or had she been an orphan <nrl
rescue.1 by a Roman speculator and educated so as to win
iame and influerce by her venal charms, or had she been born
to grace the court of Henri Quatre.
In the main the experience of the individual ought, as a
niatter of evolutionary trend, to l)e such as will foster worthy
Kleals of truth and honesty, chastity and sobriety. But the
mass of men are not capable of any pronounced enthusiasms
which are not connected with the primal sympathies. Most
women would , lie for their children; most men would risk
their lives if .hshonour threatene.l their wives: huge impulses
of patriotic enthusiasm will swell up and make a nation sacri-
hce Its lives by the hundred thousan.l. These, however are
based on the wider sanctions of moral feelings alrea.ly
discussed, upon natural sympathy, upon duty which is a
product of the play of sympathy, and at tlie highest upon
se it-respect. '
But there is required what is known as the idealist
temperament before one can f^nd in the simple beauty of ri-dit
conduct his chief motive for following it. Thh fdeal ^ill
depend, as I have just shown, partly upon inherited instinct
and par ly upon acpiired tastes: but it becomes in the best of
inen and women the highest of all motives, not by reason of
tr" '^^^r' ^^."""" '' ''"''^■' •'"•'^^ as Aristotle long ago
d^cared iEtk^c., ix 9) "The good take delight in aclio^s
that are accoixhng to virtue, just as the musician is pleased
with a beautiful melody". In his lofty estimate "virtue's
more lovely, more worthy of our admiration, than is the
morning star .
tlieSi'st '^'I'T^y f h"'"^" ^^'^ «»• of nature's vistas is to
footfall o words to the poet; what the beauty of newly-
discovered truth to astronomer or chemi.t. .neh is the
beauty ot right conduct to the pure woman and the
INSTINCT.
rence.s are not
ently unalter-
ictly virtuous
lifforont from
H a courtosan
n orphan fi;irl
^o as to win
lie been born
'I ouf^ht, as a
oster wortliy
ty. But tlio
enthusiasms
ithies. ]\rost
I vvouhl risk
u^'e impulses
nation sacri-
lowever, are
n^;H already
which is a
ifi^hest upon
the idealist
uty of ri^rht
"^ ideal will
ted instinct
I the best of
)y reason of
;Ie long apfo
' in actions
> is pleased
"virtue is
ban is the
THK UEAUTY OK KKiHT CONDUCT.
99
man o nobk- as,,irations, a somt.thin,c. to which life mav
wortlnly be devoted, n.or- to be sought than all other
objects of human .lesire, that which alone can make all
o her possessions a true happiness, yet in itself also a thin-,
ot exijuisite delight. "
1
I
vistas is to
d cadenced
of newly-
leh is the
and the
1
I!
it
100
I
I
II t
CHAPTER XVIII.
liESPONSIBILIT^■.
SCIEXTIKIC XkcESSITAIUAMSM.
I ^.A^•^: omunomte.l, i„ the onlor ..f tl.dr occumMico, th.
oM 1 T ' ' '"'.T r"^"' I!'"l'"''^''^" "'■ '•■«'''t conduct is based
... ul.< t I have ealle.1 ,uas,.„.orul .notivos. I„ true n.crality
yo hn.l our n.ot.vos within us; in .,uasi-n,orality we feel onlv
te pressure of external „K>tives. I„ the one eas^ iil;
iftc.en ,t we perceive a thin,- to he ri,-ht. then oF necessity
.t n ust l,e done: n. the other we find no inclination to the
act ans.nj.- w.thn, us on the mere percej.tion of its ri-ditness •
we n.ust he hnbed by son.e expected satisfaction or 7lete.Ted
by son.e dreaded penalty. If I see a fellow-creature sta...erin.r
alon,, beneath a burden too heavy for bin. to bear, I .^a^^'^t
O..I. n.y ... to belp bin. fro.
t.on o the ruly moral n,otives alrea.ly discussed, I n.av
syn.patluse w.th him and as a natural impulse ren.er hi n
assistance, or I may help by reason of an inward sense o
.tuty ; or ,t n.ay be only that if I passed him by, I shouhl feel
".ysolf mean and contemptible to walk on in ease wiU
notlun,- w Inle another was bein,- killed with too much • or I
n.ay otter help because there is a charm about kin.lHness and
sel-sacnhce whose aspect kindles en.otions such as wake at
.ght of tender sunset or unfol.lin. rose-bu.l, of ..-aceful J\.
hood or n.Unt shnubers. In all those cases the act ha.rno
motive except such as is internal to the a^ront
But where only quasi-moral motives are in operation I
otter my assistance in hopes of the praise T shall m't for
my kindness, or possibly of some material reward- or I am
iurrciicc, the
'ho pruftical
duct is based
cue inonility
we feel only
' case, it is
oF necessity
itioii to the
H rii^-'htness :
or (leteiTed
- sta^'geriufr
', I may put
ly conibina-
«o(l, I niay
fender him
i"d sense of
should feel
ease with
nuch ; or I
dlinesH and
is wake at
acoi'ul jrirl-
act has no
poration, I
ill get for
; or I am
HKSroxsiIULITY. |,,j
actuated l)v the Fciv .if M.,> , r .
l.uwius ,, ,.I I sl,„„|,| l,av„ |,a»*.l l,i,„ I,,. „„l„„.,ri,,„ .|.,,„
r:!;':;:,'''","-'''-'"''^ -— ™.. .,„. .1: .,„.,'
tins l,>ss worthy class ol motives tlie hin.-er sh'uv nV fl, • i .
conduct of p..actica. ,i,V. IF .. „, ^^JZ Jt^t
ot out o. parental affection, l.nt only For Fear oF h ^ ^
I'ow poor would he our households' IF we .ll t.v ,
wives with kindness only For Fear OF lawl;.^ t^
candal-heanno. tongues, our hon.es would hav. litti. .Ft
-PP.H- w uch Fortunately is connnon. IF the n.r h
or bore to cheat only by reason oF the ^aol then e v
bu.ness ...ation would ,row suspicious,;..;.':^; ^
s.nall nutters, utterly corrupt with lies and inFest.d b.': a
-inner of such .lishonesty as the law nu.st Fail to rea
^ou^ on, there is enough oF this to Justify occasi^ ',
bmsts oF bitterness, and send the businessman honu. in the
Venn,,. d>s,,usted with the conduct oF some whon. he ha .
< unno. the < ay, yet it nuist be allowed that the lar^vr Id,
the stra.,.h forward transactions which occur in b,;iness life
are founded not on fear of punishn.ent. but on the charac
of the person who acts. 'I'aciti
I know that there are many people who take a very much
more pessnnist.c view of life, who maintain that nearly every
merchant would cheat iF he could : that nearly every servant
wou 1 he and rob if she mi.ht do so with im,.unity : t
arly every tra.lesn.an will, if he ,.ets the chance, scamp l.L
^^olk an.l char«:e an extortionate price. It has not been n.y
•say that the larj^er half of the business transactions <,f a
modern c. y are intrinsically honourable: that only the
na ler halt of don>estic servants n.ake any practice o
cheatn,,. hen- en.ployers when they have the chance ; that at
least one ha. of the tradesmen we en.ploy take a reasonabh
pnde ni niakn.,. a ^^oo.l job, and would feel ashamed to ren.ler
an exorbitant bill. ij itnou
But our estimate of the pr- portion in which truly moril
and only .juasi-moral motives .;re efficient ii
: M
W M
It m
' 1
practical riirht con<luct of
1 securiiiif tlu
everyday life is one that nnist be
^•i
ii
11 • i
I.
k
102 THK OIUGIN AND CfROWTH OF THE MOKAL INSTINCT.
left to p.'r,sonal experioi.ce an.l pei-Noual teiuperaiuent. The
only tact that now concern.s u.s is that thore is this .liversitv
oi .not.ve: an.l that whatever be their relative amounts,
tlie part vvhicli the .,uasi-nu)ral motives phvy in securin.- the
^•eneral order an.l happiness of a connnunity is too important
to ho neu-l,,cte.l. Moreover, the .luasi-moral conduct hien.ls in
the most subtle an.l imperceptible manner into that which is
truly moral, so that it is hopeless to think of securin^r a true
analysis of the moral instinct as it actually exists amon-r
inanknul witlunit some consi.leration of the operation of these
less truly moral causes.
Quasi-morality .lepen.ls, first of all, up.,n tlie sense of
responsibihty, an.l then upon the sense of leovil compulsion.
Jo the t.,rmer I shall .levote this chapter, and in the n.-xt
three I shall enter into a m.,re lenothy .liscussion (,f tlu>
Jiistoi-ic growth of our i.leas of law.
Tlie .juestion of responsibility is one which, for its own
sake, is well worthy of consideration, 'oecause at the present
tnne the public min.l is becoming, .somewhat .listracted by the
intrusion of a scientific .loctrine of necessity into the common-
sense belief m free-will. We cannot, witlumt wilful per-
versity, suit our eyes to the fact that, in every .lomliin,
the deju-n-lence of effects upon deHnite causes is bein^- .lemon-
stra e,l. Lflncs p,.rhHps form the last reo.i„„ ^vhich science
IS thus con.pierino-; the bulk of men still think it e.niallv
possible for all persons to be .-oo.l. But several sciences are
Hteadily conspiring, to show that character is .lepen.l.-nt on
circumstances over which the in.livi.lnal has no control. Just
as a person must have a black skin if his father an.l mother
were both negroes, an.l a skin interme.liate if one parent was
wJu te an.l one black, so, it is beo-i„„i„.. to be recof,nused,
'""St Ins emper be purely or partly of the ne^n-o type ac-
oor. lino, as both or only .M.e of his parents was of African race.
I he tacts ol herclity in character have lono. been pateU :
It has lonjr been seen that if father an.l mother are both
mean, dishonourable people it is useless to expect that the
chil.Iren wd be of h.mourable type; it has been for ages
expecte.1 of the son of noble parents that he sh.juld be al
3
I
tl
le aver
invc
age in nobility. But even idiosyncrasies of cliaracte:
J INSTINCT,
i-aiuont. The
tliis (livor.sity
ive <uiu)unt.s,
I securiiifr the
too important
hict blends in
that which i.s
curino; a true
exists anioiiir
ition of these
the sense of
compulsion,
in the next
mow o\' the
for its own
the present
acted by the
;he common-
M'ilful per-
?ry (h)main,
liiny- demon-
hicli science
: it ecjually
sciences are
■pendent on
iitrol. Just
md mother
parent was
reco^^nised,
I'D type ac-
frican race,
'en patent ;
■ are both
t that the
1 for a^es
il he .above
f character
KKSl'ONSIIULITY.
103
have lonn. been seen to be hereditary. Cassius excus,.s him-
self —
Have you not love (.iioiiuii to bear with nic
Wlien tiiat I'asl, luunour wliii'l, my mother gave me
Makes nu^ foivelful :-
Ami yet the public mind has until lately been but little
moved out of its brlief in the existence of a free-will in man
to choose the -ood and to shun the evil. Thouu], a necessi-
tarian philosophy has been thrust upon it I)y "the multitu-
dmou.s lacts of lif,, it has cluno- and properly clun-., to its
faith ,n a practical f.ve-will. I propose to show that it is
absolutely n^rbt i,, doin- so: that while the doctrine of
necessity is phil.,sophieally unimpeachalile, tli... .loctrine of
free-will is perf.'ctly jiistitiable, and has its own absolutely
essential part to play in the practical affairs of life
Physiolooy has, for a lono- time past, very definitely
abandone.l all l)elief in any truly spontaneous action. Waller
tile author of one of tlie most authoritative of recent text-
book.s. thus sums up the scientific position {Jlavian Physiology,
p. -!).!): "We all believe our voluntary actions to be spon-
taneous, and_ freely chosen in spite of exciting, impulses.
U b.iectively viewed in the ccmduct of liviiio. bein^rs, as it un-
folds itself before us, voluntary action appears as a hi<dily
diso'uised.an.l complicated form of reflex action, with its casual
excitations mor.. ..r less .leeply buried in the past history of
the individual or of his ancestors."
Suppose that an iron ball lay on a billiard table surroun<led
by several electro-maj-'iiets : while the batteries were shut oft"
It woul.l li,> perfectly at rest. If now, an ifr„orant person
were lookm^^ on while an operator su.ldenlv turned on the
cm-rents, he would imaoino the iron ball to lie filled not only
with some sort (jf life but with a certain will power. For so
often as the ball was put down it would run now to this one
.and now to that one of the niay:nets: not always to the one
that was nearest, for one farther ofi' niio-ht be of sufficiently
greater power to determine the motion to itself. Yet this ball
which seems to ch.jose, is only actuated by external attrac-
tions, and the path along which it moves is determined by
the resultant of all the foi-ces which act upon it.
■'(•^
iii
V
... fi
■i r
,':^
MM
i I
104 THK „UUWX AN.. .UIOUT,, ok tiIK MoKAL INStInCT.
u nutl , n. eou .1 be mur. subtly Failaeious. , )„/ ,onWuct i.s
ho esul ant oi the attractions of external .notiv.-s. Do
^ns l..n leave no share in the process to our internal nature"
y "o n.eans. It n.akes a very ,a-eat .litteren.v in the case of
t "• .na...ets whether the hall he of iron or ol' copper or o
^^ass. Kor what is an attractive power to one thin • s ,
whatsoever to another. The analogy wouM he n.ore ^o^. ^
.t, .Mstea.Ioi 'nak-n,. all our attractive aoents of one class hev
were all .htferent, so that the effect of ^ach u,K,n onTt^, i^^
l«^' -on 1 1. ditterent Iron, the effect of any l.ther IVn
>s plan, that the nature of the eHl-ct will v try n.uch 1 .
upon the nature of the niovinu- ha|| ^ '" '"'
So with our n.iu.Is: accor.lin«- to thei,- character is the
tractn-e power upon then, of any particula.- class <.f u.otiv
one n.a„_, sensual pleasure will fo..,.. a n.otive outwei^hin,:
and t .e love of power n.ay forn. a,, attraction powerful
enough o overc...e it. A third n.a,. n.ay have hoth of Zl
con«derable .strength, yet on his n.ind the approbation,.
tellow-„.en acts with greatly preponderati.IJ power. A
fointh s of such a disposition that the si.hfc of sufie,-i„..
mov- '-" to .ts alleviation with a force that'^o other no i:t
power can wUhsta.uI. Now as a n.ultiplicity of n.otwl
always surround us in social life, it follows that con c^
tI^TT^u7]^:rr ^-^*--^^" ^'-- -otivesthem":
Povmful ' '■' *^^""'"'^'-^' "''■'^•'""■^ *° the most
cCrir 1 T"''^'"'' ""^ ""'' n.adly towards a weakly
tacto ,s the decree of affinity which exists between the in^
ternal nature and the external motives
It IS plain therefore that as no n.an can n,ake his own ex-
ternal n.ot.ves, he can have no sort of free-will unless h c".
n>ake Ins own internal nature. But this is a thir . e tirelv
";lTr'-t «^" '- own control, depending on (1) J^ed tt 2)
ph3>=u.lo.,cal circu„.stances, (.S) social circrn..stances '^' ^ ^
lie most important of these is he.vdity. Xo amount of
ohoosni"' will ..>..i- . - - .. -^ amount or
I
iiiake
a man able u. writ
a "Hamlet'
or a
INSTINCT.
ty of clioict!,
r conduct is
:iv('.s. l)u(>.s
Mill iiatiu-os:'
1 the case of
•opI)er or of
liii;^' is none
re coiiipi.'te
e class, they
one soi-t of
1'. Then it
uch depend
etei- is the
of njotive.
itweiuhinif
?, ambition
i powerful
th of these
•oI)ation of
[)o\ver. A
suff'ei-in^f
ler motive
f motives
conduct is
ituated hy
ves them-
the most
a weakly
»minatin;;r
ti the in-
I own ex-
SH he can
entirely
edity, (2)
iiount of
it" or a
HKSPONSIIillJi V.
lory
" Faust ". He may !).■ most anxious to do so, I,ut if horn with-
out the al.dity his anxiety is fruitless. So. too. it would he
preposterous to expect in a Vnr^hiu </u-\ that n,oral tone which
won .1 characterise the finest type of won.anhood in Kurope.
^irtii wdl, n> laroe nawtsure, deternn-ne anion- (mrselves
whetlu.r our disposition will he prone f, idealism in morality,
or to a lolty self-respect, or to th,. dailv round of un.|Uesti.m-
■I'f;' duty, or t.) mere in.pulses of sympathy as natural ..eeasi.ms
■mse : or whether it will have no n.orality at all sive such as
tlie law an.l the policen.an compel; or whether possihly it
nmy hav,. not eve., that sordid description. Ilav.loek l>llis
m h,s work on T/.e CV/..;,u,/ rd.ap. iii.)sun,s „,, the ahso-
luely conclusive evidence lono- „,uhered hy lahour.rs in the
hold oi cnnunal anthropolony, to show tl'iat -'tlH. criminal
parent tends to i^roduce a criminal child ".
The facts of course point o.dy to a tendency ; for ther.. is
notlun^r u.ore intricate than the stu.ly of heredity One
parent may he of criminal type and th.- other ,,uite the re-
verse M-en where two parents are criminals, it ,lo,.s not
absolutely follow that the chihl will he crin.inal. F.,r instance
the hither may bo a man of ability but of a lazine-ss which'
ren.lers h.m a parasite on society. The mother may be in-
dustrious and vivacious, but so feeble in min.l that the tempta-
tions ot dress, of drink, of sexual feelino- may degrade her and
send her to herd with the lowest classes. Vet if it shouhl so
chance that the chil.l inherite.l the bettei- sid.- of the nature
ot each, the ability of the father and the industry of the
mother, an excellent type miuht result, whiK- it is just as
possible that another child mij-ht exhibit the worst side of
each parent. Then in heredity there is to be consi.lered the
niHuence ot atavism. As each of us has had sixteen ;,^reat-f,m-at-
^^randparents, whose (pialities are certain to blend in his nature
in varyinjr proportions, all sorts of eccentricities of characters
may arise out of varying, combinations, from the abnormal
^•ennis to the most common-place man ; from the noblest type
of n.orality to the foulest wretch of our .aols. Ihit we know
that hke sprin^vs from like, and we a.-e abundantly ce.lai.i
that, thouo-h ,t is impossible fo.' us to verify tl... conclusion i.i
every .Jeta.l, there is not a sino.],. „Htu.-al f.-atniv in our
II
■: I ■ M
• j,
'I
/I
I .; !'
10<5 THK „KUHX AXU (UM.WTH OF THK MOitAL INSTIXCT.
nation of th.- clmrack'i-s of our aucostors
I h!tr"'"''' '','""'*"■ ''^''^""'" "" Pl^ysiolo^^ical accidents.
had lett on Ins bran. n,,unV.s as evident as the scar it had left
^me 1^'", ■""" '"" ''""'^'^'"^ -ceived severe brain
Z R T "'T' "■"""■'^'^' '^'^"'^'^^ "^ «'»--«^ter there-
after Brown_-S.,aard tells us «>,tral Krrrou. S>,sfnn p
lea ';; "', "•'"'"'' '''' "^'^ "^' '-^ I'"''^ P«'"t in any one of t
"nc ik ' r" ^"^'^ "•' '•"' '"""' ^^'^'' ^^"'- ^^ •-- t'^ turn
mt utter y , ..capable of ceasi... bis strano,. antics. So h,'
Wes^of the In-an, the spine, or the .an,l.,nic cord, physio-
unon th T' •:"' ^r"^' ""'' '^'^'"^ ^'^^y^ ^'^ ->'- ^'«-t
" ' " '^ ;""' :' ^'^ ^"'^PI^'^'^ ^ *-"P--- 'I'J- -an
he is n^f H "I'^^'^PP'"^'^'^ ''^" '« ^^"'-»«- 'H»>-lf a,ul others,
.s perfectly able to confast what he was with what he is
but lus character ,s nevertheless materially altered. So, too
a person uro-ed by n.edical advice to the nio-btly use of nar-'
cotics sutlers a pbysiolo^ical chan«-e which ],rin«-s detrin.ent
to he character (.^olerid^v expressed the utn.ost abhorrence
of the hes be told ni order to secure the use of his fatal dru-
ye wl,en the craving' was con,e the lie would inevitably
follow. Alcohol bas also the power of chano-iuo. the character.
Many a youno- ,„u,si..o. mother recommended to drink porter
.nay be see,, ten years late., altered from a lady of bri<,dit
■nnd and h„b hopes b.to a wonuvn of coa.-ser tvpe, acctis-
omed to be a,.d schen.e for the n.lulo.ence, yet the con-
ceahnent, ,. an appetite that has o,,,wn overnmsterin«- as
l.ysiolooucal co.>d.t.ons have been deteriorated. Contrariwise
the man who has .nnvn out of lono- chronic liver troubles, or'
the wonutn who at last o-cts rid of a neuralo-ia which has per-
sisted for years, n.a^- be seen to improve in character, to .row
I.'Hs selhsh, more sympathetic a..,l ^micious. Ofte.i the sur.reou
«
INSTINCT.
some coinbi-
I accidents,
roiii all his
lorse, whicli
• it liad k'ft
which men
levore brain
ictei- tliere-
Si/stion, p.
y one of at
luin to tui'ii
r for hours
'le is doinir,
cs. So in
•rd, pliysio-
1 which lie
some effect
o him that
The man
md others,
hat he is,
. So, too,
se of nar-
detriment
.bhorrence
atal druo-,
inevitably
character,
nk porter
of bright
pe, accus-
the con-
tering as
trariwise,
)ubles, or
has per-
, to g)'OW
i surgeon
HKSPONSmiLITV.
107
ersonie (operation shall
truly pr(!dicts a change of character aft
have been successfidly performed.
In the final chapters of tln"s book I shall re(juire inci-
<lentally to refer at givuter length to this (piestion. For the
present it is enougli tu notice that a small patch of intlannna-
tion in a inan's brain may give him homicidal tendencies,
while a little softening of a s(iuare inch of the cortex may
make a woman a kleptomaniac. Mr. Ih'uce Tlujmson, Surgeon
to the(;..nenil I'rison of Scotland ((juoted Maudsley's Hr^^,,,,,-
' Nibdifi/, p. .SI), speaks of having observed many thousands of
cnminals in their lifetime, and made examination of their
bodies after death. " Such an accumulation of morbid aj^pear-
ances I have never seen in all my experience." They were
people whose very bodies forbade the hope that they could
have led well-balanced lives, or nurtured high and delicate
susceptibilities. He says that of nearly 500 murderers whom
he had kn.nviK -only three could be a.scertained to have
expressed any remorse," and nearly all of th.em that he ex-
amined showed pathologic conditions of brain or body.
Thirdly, chai'acter is immensely affected by social sur-
roundings. This has been already discussed, and is too
apparent to need illustration.
What is Meant nv a Strong Will^
But in answer to all this the man (jf c(jmm(jii-sense is
inclined to urge that though no one can affect the peculiarities
of the dispositi(jii with which he was born, nor fail to be to
some extent iiiodiHed in character by the state of his body,
yet there is much that lies within the domain of the will!
For ui.stance, a person can choose his companions, and if his
social surroundings have been such as to deteriorate Jiis
character, h.' has only himself to blame. We know of course
that as a matter of fact pet)ple are not in clie main free to
choose their companions ; so far, however, as they do choose,
is not this an evidence of free-- -•' ' By no means, for the'
n.ature of their choice has buen pre....ermine,l by th..>. . ..n,.a„_
( i,
l! ;'
ter, and tivt^vy item in what
seems the voluntary adoption of
108 THE OIU
<iIN' AND (HiOWTH OV T\
circuiii.stauco.s that iitli'ct tlie dmract
n; MODAL INSTIXCT.
fvftor link to tlie time ol' int'
orin-iii is to 1)
traiiiii)<r.
Nou<^Iit ill luTf.litarv d
<■!• can he traced back link
uioy as a chain of s(.(|n<'iic.' wliosu
isposition nnd in early
But
soinetimos we Ix
lecoine iiiilme.l with a stron;,^ l)elief in
wi I-i,ower as soniethin;. oF itself selective and determinative
When we see a man who refuses to he the sport of circum-
stances, who doc.s not drift with the current, hut strikes
bol.li.y out lor some .leHnite point on the shore we are in-
c nied to re^^ard him as one who can rise superior to th laws
ot causation. Yet the two factors in the .l..termination of
such a man s career are in.lependent of his volition : how came
he l.y that strong, will-power, and what were tlu, exterior
circumstances that crave to it its tone and direction > That
will-power must he here.litary: he did not create it. The man
born without it can never make it for himself. Ami more-
over, wluitever be the appearances, this will-power is neces-
sarily, m re<rar.l to its scope and .lirection, the sport of
cn-cumstances. Suppose that a la.l shows ir,,at tenacity of
purpose ,n makiuf. himself an electrician, it mu.st be due in
•some measure to the fact that he has been born recently an.l
not a century a^o, when electrici; - were unknown ' The
energy and determination now expen.led by an indivi.lual in
making himself a competent musician must have been .lirected
to some wholly different object 1000 years ago. Thus tlie
very cases wherein choice seem.s most evi.lent show us that
careers are foun.led on circumstances out of the control of the
individual. A Columbus, a Napoleon, a Galileo, a Howard,
owed their will-power to heredity an.l training: they owed
the direction towards which that will-power was turned to
accidents over which they had no control. Ha.l Newton been
born ma Galway hut, or Napoleon into a Quaker family
their will-power could by no possibility have made them what
they actually were.
_ In Kanfs ethical theory the foundation of all morality
IS discovered in the "good will" which f. rms .for itself its
conceptions of duty and universal law. This appears to shift
responsibility from the character in general and assign it to
that part of the character which we call " will ". Thus it
UKSPOXSIUILITV.
J 09
whiir ; ^^ ,""".1-;-" - '-•" t..b.. slack an.l purposeless,
Mlulst a,.>tluT ,s I,y nature resolute an<: consistent the
.l"est,on o ultin.ate necessity is only renK>ve.l one l^.
larther hack. Shakspere tells us- •"'
F'TiiMtuiv is ma.le better l.v no me;uw
Hut nature makes tliat menus.
So we n,ayask. if a .nan's character is in.prove.l hv his
resolute w.ll. who .-ave hin. that will ^ Sooner or Mr we
co.ne to he position of irresponsihility. As Spino.a . . ,
percen-ed iEflnr., i.. prop. 82, . WHI, like .L,y h Z^J^
re,un-es a cause wherehy it is detonnine.l to he L 7n^^
a certani dehnite maimer".
Moreover, this "will-power" that I have discussed with
the_ ordnuuy tern.s, ,s no separate existence, no real ent t
It IS only a capacity of hein. so powerfully attracts h^- one'
HK^xve U.a other jn^iv.. hecon.e insignificant. It is as if
Zi ; r linr " ""T r" -'*-'"l-J'ydraw„ ^ one
paiticuai k ml ol nia-net, that the others had little or no
power to deflect its course. Thus, for instance, if a . " 1
resoute „M„arryino. ,,..• lover, in spite of all opnositi; a
cor^cnnation: if she finds him tl.: one and c^^ a^„e
whe wealth and position, parents, friends, all things el 1 1.!;
Kut, n tiuth, her wdl is no separate entity which amides lu.r
: .:S;;:th T' t-- ^" ^^^^^-^-o/ort;,^
iic<^iccnng all others, and so to our eves the.v. Jm «.
of choice an,l „F vo,,- ,|ou.,.,„i„e.| choico '"""""'™''
are active t.„.„u,„ „ ,„;, p" ^J i ^t irir ,""''
»ee,„ only the, »t.o„,.„,. „,■ !.,„. But i! ho l- iS, ."e °i "i';,'
opposite Jireetioi,,, im matter how rtro„» eaeh of (hi
Lhei :: rr r t-'- ^ ^^^.
iuaobeth may be strongly drawn to the crown, but " wliat he
would hii^hly, <;hat he would holily " His mot ve of n •
is powerful enough, hut he is sw/,ed ^z::T::::;:^:
i "iif
w is
?1l!
Ill) nil'; OliUUN AND
CiUaWTII OF THi: MoKAl, I.N'S'I'INCT,
- ( ■
hy tlu' fiU't tliat Dniicaii is his kinsman an.l his },nu'st, ami
that Iio has ht-cn nicck and virtuous ; lie is s\vayi'<l also hy th(!
tlesiro to t'lijoy tliosc
iplc
(Jiildi'ii iipiiiidiis from all sorts of
Wliicli would lit' woi'ii now ill their lu'wc
Not cast iisido so soon.
-t iiU
Tin's balancing;- of niotivos makes Maehcth an invsolutc man.
But in Lady Macbi'th the one nia<;net of royal powei- is over-
THa.storinf(. Nothin<f else has by comparison any force. Even
motherly lovo, in ;,a'/ieral so preponderating;, could hi' no
hindrance.
I i<now
How tender 'tis to love the liiili(> liiMt milk- tne ;
I would while it was smilin).' in my lace
Have plucked my ni;i|tle from his boneless ^auns
And dashed tiie iwa.iis out.
So weak are all other motives in presence of the one that
leads over Duncan's corpse to a throne I Hence she seems a
woman of stronir will, whereas she is only one who is capable
of being Htroni;ly influenced by a sin{,de motive to the ex-
clusion of all others.
Small minds often exhibit a will-power that leads them to
success, for they are capable of being almost entirely po.ssessed
by the one unchanging motive. Larger minds often fail of
success by reason of a want of consistency in piirsuit due to
the varied play of many motives, each capable of ,' slrouf
attraction on a richly endowed nature.
It is hard to persuade the connnon-sense inan that he
never really makes a deliberate choice: yet in fact all that
his judgment can do is to weigh the various attractions of
several motives, and the more powerful must certainly prove
vle.tor-ous, as when a child measures with his eyes two pieces
'.r' .•ai.e a-'' thinks he choose.M the larger, ivhen in reality it is
tlo !«.;,.' I- piece which has attracted Inm. Of course it may
eM,iij happen thit the child's mind has been so trained as to
find the smaller piece for various reasons the more ma<'-netic ;
or it may happen that he may waver and hesitate, realising
the motive power of the larger in some respects pnd the
motive power of the smaller in others, but the resultant
\'STINCT.
^fiU'st, and
iilso by tho
olutc man.
ci' is ovfcr-
rcc Even
iM lie no
(' ono that
le seems a
is capable
;() the ex-
Is them to
possessed
en fail of
lit due to
! that he
fc all that
ictions of
nly prove
wo pieces
ality it is
ie it may
ned as to
la^metic ;
realising
pnd the
resultant
HKSPONSiniLITV
111
conduct must be d.^teriniM..] bv tl... ..I , i •
n;o.iv..:„n,iwi„-i,.,,,,,<,,n,,i,t ■£;■■;;;■, ',"'.""■
n.in,l „f tl,„t p„rtta,l„,. <,„,»tit,„i,„, "'' ""•""■ "'"■""
In <,'eneral, when we d<'Iib<.ratp u-,. .... i • •
•m-n,l., tl„. ,i„„. t„ piet,„v t.^l.^Cl^t""'''':'" T
more ,ii„ta„t motivs r,„- „cti, , , ""-"""""" ""•
foun.U.r„,I s .„„„t i„ „ „T '1„.„ ;, ', , ■ T' "' "
;z:r t: ™" ■ ^"" ■■'■ "■•' — "••'"'■ 'nirt'
bbcrates it is Ix-cause fancy berrjns to ..l„bn,.,t n ., "
I".- life i,.,.vi„„„, ,„t •,•„,;„ : : *' :\; ,*"-'7':f
l™ne an,I f^„„ily. H.- i, co 1 ' 'T" """•« "'•""'!-'
i» .-n^Hne,. „„/„„„ „.;;;;;:':,;;;' :,;;.;' ",;: ;:".,»;"«
ca.se his action will be determbwvl i *i '*'''>'
A..SEXOE OP l..„...„„,,, „,„„ ,„^, ,„,._^. ^^^^_^^^_^ ^^
KE.SI'OVSIHILITV.
"orMonint lil.™ ^ I'Zt ^nT ,:V"t "'"'^'"f ''"
will, and thereto,,. „„ true .-e.,,,™ ..int! iC 'l '">',"» "•«■■
-ty that no one ,ho„l,l he „L,e t<^ ftii / J!; 'TT
the practimi conduct of the ,l«„nte ,, „ V / '"
appear a, leader, on one ,ide he 1 L ''r T'""""'
of the other. Here is , w„„' i^ *^ champion™
"leie IS a woman who has noisomd l.oTr
ten people though she had little u, ™i„ hf he
The doctors call upon us to l„oL- •,. ft S '""'"'■
»kull, indicative of'sma e,^,: p " 7" «'™«<'" f '-er
.lencics. They prove that her M,er la, —"TT". '■ "'
poisoned some one. and that her .J„r„Ztract::";;
H
' it'
If'
If
112 THE OliKilN AND (UiOWTH OF THK MORAL INSTINCT.
1^ I
.1
m
Ih r
tri('(l for an alle<;'0(l ofibnco of tho same sort. Tlio woman
lias liers('lf sliowii a stranj^'c persistency in talkiii"- about
poisons: tlu'y have hecn to lier as a candle-Hanie to a niotli.
She has inlieritc(l a derani^ed system, and is clearly not re-
sponsible.
The lawyers, on the other hand, insist that she went about
the ordinary aHairs of life with perfect sanity, bought wiseh'
and mana<;i'd her lum.sehold sensibly, and as shrewd even if
petty-minded. Hence she was (juite rational enouf;h to know
what she was dcjino- and to measure the consequences. 8he
must therefore abide by the results of what she has done.
The doctors (that is, those who take a prominent part in
the contention) inveij;-h a;Lriiiii>*t the injustice of puiu.shino-
such people f(jr actino; out the nature with which they have
been born. The lawyers reply that such arouments apply in
ecpial measure to every member of a connnunity, and that if
they should prevail all would be left without check ; the
thief and the nuirderer would be unhindered, and society
would fall to pieces. Here lies our dileunna: on the one side
it is clear that the man born with the criminal temperament
can be no other than a criminal ; and on the other we are
bomid to say to him, that if he is a criminal we shall punish
him.
But the difficulty arises from pushiiif"' the idea of respon-
sibility forward as a philoscjpliical iloctrine, whereas it is only
a practical instrument, not a thing of any inherent justice,
but an indispen.sable means of social order. This view, though
inade<juatel}- expressed, underlies the Third Dialogue of Sir
Benjamin Brodie's P,si/clioIoifir<d Inquiries, but it is in
general only foggily seen in the current di.scussion of the
(luestion.
Much confusion arises from the erroneous conception that
there is such a thing as retributive justice, that if a person
has committeil a certain fault, justice demands that he .should
Hurt'er a certain punishment. This implies that a certain
amount of wrong-doing can be balanced by a certain amount
of pain, an iilea which, when examined, is seen to be pre-
posterous. It is impossible that the stealing of fiv( pounds
can be balanced by so many months spent in prison any more
NSTIXC'T.
riio woman
kill"' about
3 to a moth,
irly not ro-
went about
ii^'lit wisely
iw'd oven it'
f^li to know
ences. She
,s (lone,
lent part in
puni.sliin^-
I they have
its apply in
sind that it"
;heck ; the
md society
he one side
mperament
her we are
lall punish
of respon-
s it is only
ent justice,
ew, thou<rh
fijue of Sir
; it is in
ion of the
eption that
if a person
b he should
, a certain
,in amount
to be pre-
vr pounds
I any more
RESPONSIBILITY.
113
than three year.s could turn tiie scale against two tons. The
quantities are unlike in kind, and no comparison between
thein is possible. We hear people talk as if a murderer ouf.-ht
in the nature of thinos to be executed. He must <--ive up his
own life in compensation for the life he took. If he could hy
the loss of his own life put back the life in the dead man
there mi<.-ht be somethinj.- in the notion, or if he could restore
to the community by his death a life in place of that he has
taken away, the absurdity mio-ht not be so f,n-eat. But in all
ideas of "retributive justice" there is involved a radical
fallacy. When a cat steals my cream, and I oive it a couple
of slaps for the ott'ence, I may have in my mind the idea oi a
certain justice in the punishment, but that idea is hopelessly
erroneous. In the first place, the cat is only working out its
natural instincts in takinj,^ the cream, if it is within reach : and,
•secondly, there can be no possible eiiuation between so much
cream and ^u> many slaps. The oidy possible eiiuation nnist
be between the motive po\\-er of cream and the motive power
of slaps.
We shall never emerge into a region of clear thought on
the subject initil we cease to regard punishment as retro-
spective, and treat it wholly as prospective. It is not retri-
butive for the past, but an element of motive for the future.
I do not slap my cat for having stolen the cream, but because
I wish the memory of the slaps to enter as a part of the
motives when next it sees my cream within its reach. I do
not attribute to my cat any such unphilosopliical capacity as
freedom of will. I know that its conduct will always follow
the attractive power of the strongest motive, and I wish so to
weigh up the sum total of motive that the resultant which
<letermines conduct shall incline to the side that best suits the
comfort of my household. And instead of there being any
bahmce between wrongfulness of conduct and retributive
pain, it is ('asily perceived that only that degree of punish-
meut is right which is the least that is sutfiei..nt to act as an
adjuster of motive. If my cat is of so atlectionate a nature
tliat a scolding will he enough t(j act as a deterrent in future,
more tiian that would be a cruelty. Hut if more is n<'ede.l,'
and on repeated occasions, then the just man will i)roeced'
VOL. II. H . '
■ i
i!
i<
' I
I,
I !
!::f
!l
114 TIIK OUKIIN AM
) (JROWTII OF rUK MOKAI, INSTINCT,
1
'
1
}
i
' ,
\
\
i
f
i
i
l')t;l
I r
<'nl.v s., lar a.s to .smuv that, tlu- tVar of i.unisiu.u.ut may in
the l)alamMM;,r ol' motiwH i>r.'i)<.|..l..ratc ovor tl.c lov,. of cvain
H.Mvi.i in ail casos lio.s tlu- tnio inoa.iin^r „r ,vsp„n,sil,ility"
It. .looN not ii„,)iy that w.' arc .-vor really fr.v a-cnts a.'i.l
thoreforc rcsponsihlo f,,,- „„i- actions in such a scnsv lint it
in.>ans that w.. have to take the conse.,u..nccs of our acts, an.l
the exi).«ctation of thes(. cons,M|nences must h.^ left to operate
... th.'play of ,notiv,>s. if i ,ln,p u t.-n-poun.! ir.a. wei^^ht
on my toe. 1 hop aroun.I tlu- room hearin^r the conse.pu-nces
II I .l.-op It on another man's toe, I have still to take tlie
cons,..,uences in the shap.> of his resentm.-nt. An-I if
the act has hcen such as to naiso his .Icep an.l pei-manenr
resentment, the conscpicnt disonler that arises is an injury
to HocK^ty. whose resentment I hav,. therefor., to ..n'.lur,.
likewise.
Mut ohs.M-ve that it is throun-hout a -pu'stion of motivs.
If th.' .Iroppino- of that wei^rl,t upon my .)wn toe was wilful,
then the memory of th." pain I ineur will 1... a motiv f.,r not
h.M.i- s.) foolish another time, an.l in that case 1 am sai.l to 1...
responsihl,-. If it was an acci.l.'.it, hut arisin- fnnn careless-
ness, I am consi.l,Mv.l to he responsihl,- f,,,- wu.it ..f care, an.l
th.. memory of my sutrei.inn. will ]„. a nmtiv,. to me to he
...(HV careful in futur... Hut if the mattrr was a pur.-
accident, utti-rly out of my control, 1 sufH.r .piit,. as nnieh
pain as hefor.., hut \ am hel.l in n.) wav responsihl,. f,,,- my
surterin- s,...in- that it cannot in any way ...iter into my
motive for futur.' action.
ff I drop th.. weight .)n another man's to., an.l th.. action
is a pure acci.lent over which no alt..ration in my motiv,.s
cml.l have had any control, 1 am h..|<l l)lam,.|ess. The oth..r
man suH'.'rs the pain, 1 ..n.hnv little more than th.'
sympathetic .listivss of a hystander. l^it if it w,.r.. tlu'
result of my car..l..ssn..ss the suH;.r..r, or, on his h..half
society as a whol.. may cause m,. to feel th,. ..tfects of resent-
iiinit. s,. that 1 may have a motive for ^n-eat,.i- car,, in th,.
future. If it w,.r,. alto<rctIu'r wilful, then ' I nuist have h,.,.n
move.l to a wroi.o- action hy a clearly r,.alis,..I m.)tiv,. an.l
that man, or, on his behalf, socii'ty as a who!,, may provi.ie
mo with Homethin^r whose memory will in futures h.. a useful
I
NSTINCT.
flit iiifiy ill
■»• oF crfjuii.
piiii,sil)ili(y.
i;,^<'iit.s, and
sc. Hut, it
ir itots, jiml
to opcnitc
roil Wfi^dit
is('(|n('nc('s.
I) take till'
An.l if
pi'riiiaiK'i't
an injury
to t'lnlurc
•r motives.
ras wilful,
ivc I'or iKit
said to hi'.
II careless-
can", and
me to lie
IS a jiure
' as much
le for my
into my
Hie action
\' motives
Tile other
than the
were the
is l.ehair,
li' reseiit-
re in the
ia\e heeii
)tivc, and
Y in-ovide
i a useful
ui;si'oNsii(ii,nv,
in
counteractinjr motive when next the same malicious motives
nnpel to a similar action.
A schoolmaster, looking' at a coupl.. of la.ls, may rei „ise
pcrf.^ctly well that the oiu. is no more r..sponsiI,le f,„. hisla/i-
iicss than the otlwr for his industry. The former has 1,,.,.,. ),oni
with a slow mind that finds no phmure in int.dlectual activity
Willi." the other has 1,..,,, I.orn so bright in faculty that mental
exertion is to l„m a positive deli;,d.t. Any philosophic id.'a
of responsihility is th.^refore unreasonal.le. JJut in practice
lie insists upon res,,oi,sil,ility as a most necessary corivctive
of motiv... The l.nVlit hoy nv.vAn no incentive to work • he
liHs a i.leasure in activity. The .lull hoy's natural motiv.-s
w.iul.l all I..1.1 t,. apathy: hut the idea of resp.msihility carry-
115 with It the motiv,^s of loss of nnvar.ls, fr,.„eral con.l..mna-
tion, or punishment, enters into th.; sum t.)tal of m.,tiv..s an.l
bonds the resultant int.) tli.- .lir.-ction that is wisli...| for.
A Just th.'ory of resp.)nsihility has tli.!r."f.,re i,othin<r
whatsoever to .lo with the .|u..stion of fr..e-will .,r n.'cssity''-
it is only a matter of a.ljustm.mt of m.)tiv.;. Suppos.. that on
a dark and lon.-ly roa.l I m...t a p.)w.!rful an.l villainoiis-
lookino- f,.|low with a luuvy l)lu.l^r,io,i. ()„ t|„it n.airs mi„d
the loiielin..ss, tlu" .larkii.'ss, my feebleness, my watch-chain'
an.l th.- pr.)l .ability of my havino- som.' mon..y, act with th.'
force .)f a ompellino' motive. 11,^ ,st..ps up to fell ,„.•, but
he hears the click of my pistol, an.l instantlv passes on as
if lu' meant iDthiiie-. The man in b..tli cas.'s acts undii-
nec'ssitariaii impiilsi's: but, in the secon.l, on,, littl.. s.am.l
utt<>rly alt..rs tb.- .lirection of the resultant impulse. It is
true that as I cock my pistol a «:lance may assuiv me that a
man with such a face, such a cranium an.l such a sinuchin.r
look, is .ally o„ine- t.) act in acc.r.lanc.. with the tiatmv which
birth an.l traininu' have o.iv..n him. H,. is not r..sp,aisible in
the sense that h.. can b.. tli.. cans.; .,f his own natuiv .,r .,f his
own acts. Hut, inasmuch as he is a civatuiv capabl,. of b,.in,.
swaye.l by motives, I am o,,inn- to treat him as if responsible'^
an.l, m.lee.l, he i,s r.;sp.)nsible in the sens.' that h.- must abi.I.-"
by th.' conso.|ueuces of his acts. If it is his natur.. to f„l| m,
with a blu.l^^eon to secuiv my pr.,p..rty, it is my nature to
shoot liim with a pistol in or.ler t.) .h'feiid my Ijf,,
f].1
m
fi t
r
i ill
1 I;
116 Till', OIUCIN AND fiUOWTII OK THK MOUAT. IXSTI-NCT.
But all respoii.siI)ility is of tho same kind. If it is a
dork's nature to etiihezzle money, it is society's nature to put
emi)ez/lei-s in <.-aol, and If it is his nature not to like hein..- jnit
in <,raol, then we must just hope that in the conHict ol' motives
the on.' moi-e useful to society will prevail. At any I'ate, the
thonoht ol' ^r,iol ()u-;ht to he to him, just what tlu; click oF my
pistol was to tlu! midnii-ht villain. Hi'sponsihility thus never
implies the existence of free-will, hut oidy the entrance of the
resentment of society iiito the sum total of actuating;- motives.
For in the case of a social heinj^-, one of the most im-
portant consecpKmces of his acts is that when they are
nijurious to his fellows they meet with comlemnation and
resentment ; when henetlcial, with applause or reward. And
in all (piasi-moral conduct these form the determinant motives.
The principles here in-licated are simple enou^di, yet so
lOEAL PURITV
^■^' ^f SELF-RESPECT
-"^^^^^ Duty
.I.;fS ''"'^ SYMPATHY
Af"^
K-IP
Rewards
_ , Quasi nwitil impnhes , Fear of Punishment
SELF Indulgence
^,^/~* Sensuousness
^^ Chuelty
diver<;ent from popular conceptions that I shall emphasise
them with a dia<,n-am to illustrate the play of various
motives.
Let A B represent the line alon<-' which a man's conduct
passes when it is neutral, n.Mther <rood nor evil, hut quite in-
different. Suppose any downward deflection is to evil, any
upward, to yood. At tlie point C in that man's conduct there
appear a numher of attractions leadin<i' him to evil. As tho
power of these becomes apparent he is also aware of the
motives indininjr him to jp'oodness ; for sympathy shows him
the hai-,n done to others by evil ; duty supplies attractions
sprunii- from trainin<>' and hahit : self-respect otters the happi-
licM^-: of internal peace ; ever, the iile.-t! of an uprir^ht mind may
shine with all its charm,
\
STI'NCT.
\i' it is a
irt! to put
bcinn; put
)!' iiiotiv^cs
I'ato, tlie
ick of iny
hus never
HOC oi' tlic
f motives,
most ini-
tliey jire
itioii and
1(1. And
t motives.
1, 3'et so
uiosi'o.NsmiM'iv.
117
>s
Punishment
B
imphasise
t various
< conduct
quite in-
evil, any
luct there
As the
■e oi" the
lows him
^tractions
lie happi-
lind may
J he extent t<. which thes,. various motives are active will
<'t course depend nn the nature of his n.ind, and the resultant
iorce mil deper.d upon that natu.e. The more it inelin.s up-
"""•d Inm. C, the n.ore is his con.luct kindly, nohl. and self-
.suT>hcn,o.. tlu- more it inclines downward," tl... n.ore is his
con.U.ct selhsh, .nean and de^radin;^. If, as the eond.i I
Hfee. ol these motives, th.. n.sultant h-nds upward, there has
occurred a purely n.o.vd vict<.ry. i5ut if it turns .luunward
as aion^ the line U I), all is not yet lost. It is impossible tJ
•'lake that n.an act from n^l.t n.otives, yet it is <pn-te possible
to make lum act .•..htly, for society has still its reserve force
to h.'M.o- ,nt„ play, an.l this consists of responsibility in all its
torm.s.^ Th.. IVar of condensation, alienation of IVirn.ls loss
pos,t,on, social de^^radation, fear of the ^aol. the p.Jsible
ultnnate lund.ln.o- of a han-man round his n,.ck, will forn. a
•scries ol incrcasino-|y powerful motives. Th..y ar... like ropes
attached to a v.ssel wlien she is launche.l: though each in its
turn IS snapped by the strain, each helps to pull I,..,- up in her
course, and when one is ^•one then- remain stronn-er an.l still
stron^rer to be the successive clux-ks of a hcadlono- care,.r
Ih.it such a vessel is pulled up ero she plun^re her bow in the
opposite hank of the river is .lue to no voluntary action nor
any internal power of lier own. It is the etiect of external
checks successively applied.
So it is w-th mo.al motives; the man is n.,t a fre<- a^ent
but is ever swaye.l by the resultant of motives: if th<. truly
moral motives ^-ive way one after another, then com,, into
phy the ^rentier forms of responsibility : an.l, if these are in-
suftcient, still more strin^.ent motives of responsibility J.e-rin
to act. If none of tliese can counterbalance the seltish hi-
stincts, the career is certain of hopeless wreck.
Use of the Sense ok llEspoNsiHrLiTv.
The sense of responsibility, like the sense of duty ..rows
with experience. In youth we steadily rather our «ens,. of
physical responsibility from our experience of the pain which
follows certain acts: we ^mther with e(,ual steadiness our
! y'7 1
l.
"P
i:
'
ifi
■Ai
■ 11!!
liif
!
r, 'fijf
IM:1.
I ',.
■!-!
« i!l
i r
Pl Li
^
;
1
1
1
1
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i '
118 THK ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THK MORAL INSTINCT.
sense of moral responsibility from our experience of tlie social
resentment that follows other acts of onrs, acts which pro-
bably in themselves jrive pleasure to us, but discomfort to
other people. So we come to weit^h always the amount of a
pleasure and the cost of that pleasure as measured by the
resentment its attainment provokes in other people.
It would thei-efore be absu)-d for society to wait till the
sense of responsibility <;Tew, before actually insisting- upon
responsibility. Hold a child responsible, and it "rows to have
a sense of responsibility. If a man is of weak intellect, never
on that account loosen the demands of responsibility, for in
so iloino- you remove from him the only really opei-ative class
of checks, .seeini-' that his mind is more or less incapable of the
trul}- nnn-al checks.
If I enter a room where my infant is freely helpino-
himself to sweetmeats from the table I may say to myself,
philosophically, " Given the child nature and the sweetmeat
temptation, this result was sure to follow ". But if I always
act on these necessitarian principles I ruin the character of
the child. My proper coui-se, though I recoj--nise that it
must always act of necessity as its motives impel it, is to insert
a new class of motive into its mind. I therefore explain to
the child that I shall feel vexed if ever it does this thing
a<;ain. Thus I insert the counterbalancinjj^ motive of my dis-
pleasure when a future impulse arises. If the child is very
sympathetic in nature this may be ample, and I may notice
that in future the near temptation of a sweet taste may be
held sharply in check by the remote consecjuence of causing
my displeasure, The child is accjuiring the sense of responsi-
bility, whose business it is to weigh present pleasure;) against
their ultimate ettects.
But on a sudden temptation the child may again repeat
the fault; I take him into solemn conference: point out the
dislike that is felt by all people for children who are greedy and
disobedient the sickness he may lu-ing on himself and conse-
quent deep sorrow of all who love him. In short, I pile up as
counter-motives to that of appetite, all the remote con-
seijuences which he is able to understand. Very probably the
task is done so far as thi.s pai'ticular class of conduct is con-
RESPONSIBILITY.
ceniLMl. ^ The cliil.l cannot ajjjain stretch forth liis huiid for
unpurniitted dainties without a reflex action of tiie mind
o-atherino- r„u„,l the i.lea of tlie act and its innnediate
pleasure, all the idea of its remote conseiiuencos. It may be
that the mere description of these conseciuences may not be
I enough. The child may have to be sent to bed in disorace, or
be deprived of some customai'y pleasure or perhaps vvliipped,
perhaps it actually on some occasion makes itself sick. In
any case, the sense of responsibility is ac(|uired when the
memory of the past so acts as to call up an anticipation of the
future strono- enouoh to stay the outstretched hand.
-But, of course, a lar<>e part of the expei-ience from which
we derive our sense of responsibility is not i^'athered so much
P from what happens to ourselves, as from what happens to
others. When a child is whipped and sent to bed, the lesson
sinks <leep into the minds of the rest of the family: when a
l)oy is publicly- dismissed with ignominy from school, the i-est
go home with awe-stricken souls. When the detectives pro-
duce the handcurts and take the ombezzling clerk tVom hi.s
desk, all the other clerks feel a strange emotion. In this way
the sense of responsibility is educated, and a dozen clerks
who are travelling in wrong directions may be pulled up
sharply and led to consider their conduct and its goal without
any ne«jd that they themselves should experience all the
miseries of degradation.
Heroin lies the danger of the zeal of those reformers in
the treatment of criminals who, having been convinced of the
fallacy i-i prevailing ideas of free-will, think that there is
therefore no responsibility. For, of course, if the born
criniinal is not to be held responsible, we must all be irrespon-
sible. If a phrenologist can show that I have been born with-
out the bump of industry-, who shall blame me if I lie on my
back in the sun or in some sinig shelter all day long ? This
is the view from which a sentimental philosophy cannot
escape. But if common-sense looks down on me with an
angry scorn, saying, " Rise up out of that, you lazy fellow,
an.l do some work," and if that sharp rebuke sends me off"
to some useful exertion, is not common-sens(i a thing to earn
our thanks :'
r.i l\
I I
:;i'.-
V^l
rjO THK ORIGIX AND GROWTH OF THK MORAL INSTINCT.
Thouo'l, we may dischar^re the .loctrino of free-will from
our nmi.ls, any attempt to establish the doctrine of irrespoii-
sibdity would be practically disastrous, and, as we have seen
IS looieally unnecessary. Am I to allow a do- merely
because he is a pui)py, to ^-naw all my furniture to pieces an.l
never o,ve him a slap > I realise perfectly that he is not a
Ireoaovnt: yet 1 hold him n-sponsible for the damage done,
so that the whippin- which I now ^nve him may enUu- into'
the motives controllino- his necessitarian action when the next
temptation arises.
Am I to allow a cliild, merely because it is youno' ami by
nature oI)stinate, to wantonly ruin my choicest flowers, phick-
mo- them l)y the root unmindful of all my injunctions '.
Whatever be its nature, it will be all the better for
experiencin<,^ my resentment in whatever shape that may be
most wisely expressed. Because a man is of weak mind am I
to sutler him, if such be his freak, to pull my nose in the public
streets i He will be none the worse if in the future impulses
that control his con.luct, he has a salutary remembrance of
th" way I took his impertinence on this occasion.
Griesin^^er, when speakino- of the desirability of remov-
ing the insane at a very early period of their malady to
well-conducted asylums {Mental Diseases, chap, ii., sec i)
condemns the bail effect which follows the loss of the sense
of responsibility when the patient lives with his friends. For
they cannot have the heart to hold the man responsible for
his words and acts when they see his mind, day after day
givin^r way. And the o-rowino- laxity of the sense of respon-
sibility only makes the mind more undisciplined. When
other motives grow weak, the motive of responsibility should,
if anything, be strengthened. The .juietness, the steady
routine, and uncompromising insistence upon good conduct
which characterise the asylum are like a balm to the mind
unhinged. " His restless habits," as Griesiiiger says, " and the
noisy expression of his maniacal impulses are controlle.l by
the ruling spirit of peace and order: he passes of his own
accord into the quiet routine of- the house ; he observes that
resistance is utterly useless, and notices that the whole style
of the treatment he receives and the amount of liberty and
WB-'IB I Kv
HKSPONSIBILITV.
12]
t'njoyn.ent allou-e.l hi,,, ,lepe.„l niti.vlv oi, fl„. I
control he exercises ovorl,i,.seIF'Tu ^^'"" "^
Ln-ows worse if tl.,>„ .... (• , .• "^ '^"' ''"' " f'lte
Sr. l,.n -^ '■"^'' '"•'" '^" ^^'^^^ <^f n'sno.,sil,ilitv
f^o lon^r as a man is capal.l,- „r foreseein- or „r l ' ""7 "
to fV,resee the conse,,„ences oF h" ^ '^ "^^ '""^ ^"'^''^
on«-ht to he allowed their lull weight .', ^""-"i— '^
his motives " '" *'''' c»"'P"«ition of
so^^' o N 1 , "PP"''"'^ Pi-opensities must have some
SOI t of (hscphne sharply maintained. It would he ■. ZT
to society From the very first he should learn that a lie
h hlfe \""""''^'^^''° eonse,uenees, so that h mly by
habit come to assu.ne a virtue if he liave it not " ^ ^
P ^tie 111 !\ T ■'^''"''^ •'^l"'^'' "^«'^^ ^'--^^-Jy and em-
responsibility.
more undeviatini,. must be the disnin!
pline of
It would be a fatal
crisis in the history of society if it
ml
mmm
1'2'2 THK ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
ever annoimced to tlie man of weak intellect or criminal
passions, " Poor fellow, you cannot help being what you are,
and we shall not be so unjust as to punish you for beinj^ what
you could not fail to be ". Such a course would precipitate a
thousand evils : its mistaken kindness would be a cruel un-
kindness to the worthier part of the communities left a prey
to the less worthy. It is fortunate for mankind, as \ 'JU be
shown at len<;th in the following chapters, that througli tU its
liistory, x'esponsibility, though growing less severe, has been
becoming more tletinite and inexorable. While systems of
penalties have become less cruel, they are now more certain.
A wholesome sense of discipline pervades society sucli as con-
verts a rabble of men into an orderly army, a discipline which
has no need to be stern so long as it is resolute.
'
Resi'onsiiui.ity and Forethought.
To this growing sense of responsibility must be attributed
the greater capacity of forethouglit which men now display.
It is of impoi'tance to us all to tind an increasing share of our
motives in the future consequences of our acts. A savage
takes small thought of the morrow, less of next month, and
none whatsoever of the following year. The responsible
citizen of our time educates his children with thought of the
far-off' years when they are to be men and women ; he works
and saves with a realisation that a time may come when old
age will dim his faculties ; in his business his plan.s- look far
ahead : in his very pleasures he has his time mapped out more
or less for weeks in advance.
This habit of living much in the future may become
morbid, so that a man may fail to enjoy the happiness of the
present, in which case he is doomed to be permanently un-
happy, for, his pleasure being always to come, it is never
actually enjoyed, and he justifies Pope's line: —
Man never i.*, but always to l)e blest.
The joyous temperament lives in the present and feels dis-
posed to say to th . pa.ssing hour, " Stay, for thou art pleasant".
RKSroNSIBlLITY. joQ
lie ,|,™,1» ' 4 |,i| "."" ""■"""' '"r P'-«"™' - -e" that
ti.« tutu,,.. A^: ' ;r:; ;:■; '••■ '"•^•" *« p™"'^ m
Wliy for tl,„ futm-,. ,1 . ■> '' "■"* "' '-""im,,.,!.
ti- ...u.,t',„ by ;Te ;;''': ';"';r ■"-• «<'t - «-«-ai
'■■"'■ "' In- ..a.„™l c„ ::;l''".*;r" "'■ -P"'»i''i«ty.
"' «-„at is to CO,,,. , ' • ,'" "'^' P''«»«"t' f"''K-tf"l
»p-. a wwie c..„ of CO,,,,,..,:;;;, ,',', , t: r''"^' ""-"
»y,„lM,hy. A „„.„ „.|,„ ,. 1 , ,"'"'" °* "" »" ""P«""l '>J-
fyi.« i.i„,,.if With T" ,^ "l: i'"""^, r"'""' "*■ -"■"''■
;"o»t ,,e.ic..t„.y .eo,,,t.„„„ r r^'u: ''«™;;"-'-'' i»
;:^-;'n.™;:i:t=r, E'Fi-
»-t» „-it„„ut . ,^i^ , , ":; r" "' '■" ™"- '- --
follow to l,i„,.,„if ,„:i , ,. I , "'"""'•""'I'wnocs that ,„ay
he full of sip, th bur-;' ■ 'T' '" "''""■» '"■" "aturo to
f.-o.„ wi,„. ■* "^ ^' "" " ""^ >>» " "J-Pathy that is f„,.
to.x.t;p..^;X:^,^::;-™-::::--;t»^
iiiuru truly moral. Fo- tlvif l.nh;* i- i . • . ""^' "^'^^ '"^^
< i,
ff/l
^. 1
1
'i
i
ii
1
1
1 '
'i'
124 THK ORIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
motives, and so it may easily come to pass tliat the sense of
responsibility, though not itself moral, may lend all its \veio;ht
to the enforcement of other motives that are truly moral. It
may (1) rectify the operations of tliou<;litless sympathy: (2)
deepen the sense of duty; (8) en)iol)le the feelin^f of self-
respect, and sometimes even (4) strengthen the devotion to
the pure and beautiful.
(1) Sympathy, as I luive slitj-htly shown, by aid of a sense
of responsil)ility Ijecomes wiser. If I have a servant whose
faults are serious, I ou^^'ht to speak to him about them. But
I may dislike to n'ive pain and shirk the necessary inter-
view. But this sort of sympathy is eminently unwise, and so
the sense of responsibility conies to my aid. I realise what I
shall feel if, after a while, the faults grow worse and I lind it
necessary to dismiss tluvt servant : I foresee what will be my
sensations, if in some future day I hear he has gone utterly
wrong for want of a little timel}' plain-speaking. I feel
responsible to my own futiu'e sympathies, and brace \ip my
courage for the disagreeable task of fault-tinding in the
present.
(2) Duty also is often intimately connected with the sense
of responsibility. Not always of course, for when duty has
become habit, responsibility has no part in the play of
motives. The good man tells the truth as a matter of habit.
He does not weigh the futui-e, nor is he urged on by any
regard of conseciuences. When he buys an article he places the
money on the counter as a matter of habit, and there never
crosses his mind a thought of what might happen if he tried
to cheat. Yet whenever duty has less than this habitual con-
trol over us : when we are inclined to hesitate, and the moral
victory is uncertain ; then up conies the reserve force of
responsibility, and one thought of all the hateful consequences
determines to right conduct.
(3) But far more characteristic of our modern develop-
ments is that feeling of responsibility which is attached to
self-respect. What an immense number of people now-a-days
set themselves to the task of self-improvement, and that not to
win a heaven, nor to earn applause, but solely out of a sense
of responsibility in regard to the use of tlieir time ; a feeling
SfSTINCT.
RESPONSIBILITY.
k'vution to
aee up my
tl'at the months and years of tl..f/" ^^^'
•Holen.n voices : ■• Whe.v are t] I ^''""" '""' 'i'^l< witi,
- up.vard p.o.ress wh.eh t: " "^^ "^''^l'^' -'-ve„,ent
•■^"cl' a nnnd its future character i" '"'''' '"•'^"^'''^ ^ " To
I--nt action is shaped t "J, ; ''^ ^^"^^■^' -^P-'--''i'ity. and
--.nueh harassed h^such S;.. ^^"^^ "'^ '-'■'^-^-' *«
^ tho nobler souls a,non^. He .^ ,^ ^^^^^^^re notunknowr.
f't't .sa purely modern featu el ?''^ ^'"^ ««-".
-"ythn... h-ke a .reat scale Tn '''/''"" "' ^'«t>»» "pon
!^n<l often nn-ldleV., or eVe ' .""V"-'-'" •'^^•rrn-es of youn
- -If-uuproveme't X ^2u "^ ''''''''''''' ^--' '-^t'wo k
--lecture, and an a::i^:S;:S/'- V"^^^''^^^^' ^-
the nnmense developn.ent in mode n ""' ^'''' ''^^^'<^^- to
oi responsibility to ones self '" ^-"'""ruties of a sense
(4) Closely connected thei-evvif)- • .,
|:^ons,bdity to an ideal. V^th" ^ '^^^ ^^"^ ^^
^iHer Ion. si.hi„,. for the post o f .n "'"'^'^■"" S'^'^ubert
'^Jter a note of his music in the di,?r ^°"*'"" ''^^ther than
aw. though more po^'^:"^ s T'^' '^ ^^"^'"^^^
'^Mly he carried to an ex reme o ''' '' ^'''^"'^' may
''-^ i-ture Of social life. Z alT-^""'"' '""'^^ ^'-4-
a»^l only possible in a „atu,rnf T^ '^ '' ^ »«ble extreme
;; painter .ho mi,ht h^ ;^^ ^;' fj^^^".- How n!::^
'las starved wUH . -, ' '-onuortablv nn << ,^^1 \. ■. "^
uvea while produc Uif mohn-^. 1 ? Pot-boders "
r";<I.buy, because vvithin Ji.r, ., ''''"''^ ^^^' ^'"'^v „o one
^-^ o^.tI.e highest andZlt " '"^ '^'^ ^ -Pon.ibility to l"
^^^^alj^ZflCT ■'"'" '^'^^ ^-"th who ac col,
■ium cne rooms m vvln"/.!. i "C colleire
-a.-cely tell .-ou ,,1,,^ j^/ ^ "^^' '«ose talk is usual, couk
-'-;-.ous to his con.rades. j/"^"" '^^ -akin«. ,,i„.,,el
-;^ht to make him remain a, Ui^ 7"^""'^- "^" ^^"o-l'ip
""^^^'"ly .jokes that prevai iu th ^'^"""' ^^'^^"^^^'"ed to the
'lea 01 punty. U f, „,t a rueH '""'' ^" '">'^' ^'^ ''is
Ills home life w.-M, « , 'lutstion, vezy much, of dutv ■ 1 ,
■'■■'-•'--'--r:::-:;'£
(. I
^ 1
kMM
126 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
eveniiiff in weak association with a baser ideal, he must
expect to be bitterly repaid in the future by the reproaches of
the purer conception which really controls his artections.
So we may imajijine a jj;irl, poor, surrounded with dis-
comfort and under the necessity of a sordid toil for her daily
bread. She has an offer of marria^je from a man who un-
doubtedly loves her, whose character is unexceptionable, and
whose means are aiuple. Yet she refuses the offer, because
her ideal of marriage demands that she should feel towards
her bridej^room as she feels to no other upon earth. What,
then, is her fear of future unhappiness ? In material sur-
roundini^s she must be far more happily placed ; friends
would all approve of the match ; her lover is aware he has not
secured her affections, yet would rather win her so than not
win her at all. Yet is she resolute because she feels a respon-
sibility to her own ideal. It is not in its essence a ((uestion of
duty; she mij^ht easily consider that duty would rather prompt
her to an honourable marriage, which would make a good man
happy and gather round her a little family who should have
every prospect of promi.se in their favour ; moreover, she
may be able to help her people more effectually, and in her
station, as a matron of .some influence, she might have scope
for doing much good. Multitudes would in such a case
accept, but there is many a girl who would feel her responsi-
bility to an unwavering ideal a wholly insuperable obstacle. A
realisation of what the future would mean if passed with a
husband to whom she could not feel as a wife .should feel : the
fear of a lifelong reproach if she entered into so sacred a
union from motives other than the highest and holiest — these
would form for her the noblest of all forms of responsibility,
that which we derive from our sense of allegiance to a great
ideal.
Where conscience is thus tender, the moral instinct has
reached its highest phase. For it is one thing to see the ideal
and approve of it, but another thing to feel this deep con-
sciousness of responsibility in regard to it. He who is thus
susceptible, whose conduct is kept from present wrong by
reason of the future accusation before the ideals of truth and
kindliness, of purity and dignity, has the .suhlimest of all pos-
SrSTINCT.
, he must
preaches of
tions.
with (lis-
r her daily
II who nn-
)nable, and
3r, becauwe
lel towards
:h. What,
iterial sur-
d ; friends
he has not
than not
^ a respon-
(uestion of
ler prompt
, ^ood man
lould have
cover, she
iiul in her
lave scope
eh a case
r responsi-
wtarle. A
sed with a
1 feel : the
3 sacred a
est — these
lonsihility,
to a great
RESPONSIBILITY.
«ib]e motives for right conduct If ^''^
laws, for they are'utterly t ' 'os" T ''^^^"^''^"^ "P^'
^t. No code that ever wl f , "'^*'^^'*1 *« att^-ct
- -u-ehin,, ,so inwald y cl ul" ""'' '^ '^ ^'^^'-t
an Ideal. ^ compulsive, as this allegiance tJ
I !,
i:u'
istinct has
e the ideal
deep con-
ho is thus
wrong by
truth and
of ail pos-
»
!l#
128
CHAPTER XIX.
THE INFLUENCP: of the FA^^LY ON THE GROWTH OP
MORALS.
Sexual Jealousy Makes the Family Unit Distinct.
Among modern writers on the liistory of law, the belief has
lon<"- been very definitely expressed that in its development
law has nothing;- to do with morals, but only with dama<>;es ;
that even criminal law in its primitive form is in no way con-
cerned with sins, but only with injuries: in short, that early
law never dreams of makin<>- people good, but only of keeping
them from tiuarrelling. Sir Henry Maine remarks (Ancient
Law, p. :?70) : " I'he penal law of ancient communities is not the
law of crinuss, it is the law of wrongs, or to use the English
technical word, it is the law of torts ". Stephen, in his History
of Ewflish Criminal Law (iii., 27), says that "in all the
English laws l)efore the Concpiest homicide is treated almost
entirely as a wrong," a damage done to a family, which may
be compensated for its loss. In early law, the only ideas that
are prominent are the injury inflicted, the probable revenge
of the injured person, and the amount of compensation which
is likely to mollify him and preserve the peace. INIurder is
not a wickedness, but an injury to the bereaved family, Our
Teutonic ancestors had small notion of any personal unworthi-
ness in the want of chastity in a man, but they did most
thoroughly eompi-ehend the loss which a family sustained if
one of its maidens was depreciated in market value. They
never recognised the loss to the maiden herself, but purely the
money loss to hei- kindred. The laws of the Frisians directed
that if a man had violated a maid he should pay to liei- rela-
tives ten shillings, but if he married her against their will he
that of ,n..ely ae^r^oi^Ur^:, ^ ^ T 'f ■^Z--^- *!'-
'H^vs, if a man seduces a H^la. v m^ I I ' ""' '" "'" ^^'^^'^
'^etion on account of tlu"v , "'f"",'"" '"^^ ^" Pay loi' Lis
cl>osen people, he n.avlXhh:::^''"^ " !■'•"■" ^^''^''-^ ^'-'
- -thin, but .lan.a.e^> a ill W R T ^''""" ^ ''"^^^'^ V
J" laws of iKM.ple^n h r""^^-"^'^'-^"^^' '•- '"uch.
the Teutons ol J ll^.W s" T" ^"'^^-•'^^'' ^ ^'''- of
incipient notion of the sin nil ' '/""'' certainly see son.e
-Hie. stages .hiehpL:;;:^' It r::r^^^^^
)^i«, -Uy the sense of i„j„,y, ,,t^ hc^f"^^"'"';: ^^' "'^^-''^^^
ne.s.s,i« to be detected. The sava 1 ^"^- "'""'«■''"'■
"'^"•'•^ children ; if he ,loe he! . '""^ '"•'"'•^' '""^t'"''-
He nmst not seduce oVistri^ " '"';'""' '"' J''---
can sell his own to a Z .' st "'"r'"'«'''^^''- '*"' ^-
another n,ans wife b^ C ' "f f ''' ''"■" ""^ ^'^'-^
tiu-<^.hhisowniftii:L;:::;:;;^^^^^^^
"^"H:r^rr;r:f'';::rr?'^^- ^•■■"•-'
retaliation, and his con.luct t '■ "''^' ''•^- '"'-• "•'
l^-is. It is within ]u 1 ;, "f""'"' T'^''-'^ true n.oral
-ope for the growth o Z^tJ^ "'^ f'^ """^^ -'^"-'
«-iHcin, love for his orts;^ ^^^u'!'' '''':' '" -"'-
wite, and then the habit .AiMn^"'^' " '''""""" ^■•>'' '"'^
t-.l to spread outwards i !"■ :;• "7"' ^"^^''^ -"^'
hours. Jiut it was fron. th. C "' *"'" '"^"'c "eiH,. '
-''- one urn.ed na ' ^f^' ^^'^'•^•^'-' ^''"t 'aw ar^^e ;
^^i"o^ and when t,;;; i!;::;:::^::^ -^^^
■support and defend, it was natural . .' ^ *''^"'»«^''ves to
«ans should make an eft r t ^''" '^-'^ J'oated parti-
-f'- con.pensati; ^.^b^n ofte::7^"T''^^ ''*' ''"'"'•"' -"'
would form , precedent ^^^ :;::^r7^-'- ^''-''ci.i-t
-»Hlar injury threatene.i a I^L L u H T'""" "'"'" '^
JeatliH and desolations Ouit '^" ^'■'^'■" '^*"
riso.
•'Hv, Hi ail cases chat we know
ipiict
coinpix)-
VOL. II.
oJ', take its earliest
m
r it
n :i
9
.1 *
'If
I i
IHO THK ORKilX AND (JKOWTII Ol' THi; MOKAL INSTINCT.
Since morality, tlu'ii, ori^niuites within th.- family, while
law is born of friction l)otwecn families, it is very needful to
mi.lerstan.l the constitution of the familv as the unit of
society. Not that the family is always tlie really notable
uiut. We shall see subseciuently that family limits may some-
times be .rreatly blurred, and that unions may prevail whose
basis is alto^-ether ditierent. Indi\i(!uals are 'to society what
atoms are to cliemical matter. They oT„up themselves in a
molecule, and the form of that molecule will depend on the
internal play of various attractions. Rut what is called allo-
tropic or isomeric chan(,a! is always possible. Precisely the
same atoms may so alter their oToupin^r as wholly to chano-o
the aspect and character of the constituted l)ody. The onTy
Invent historic instance of this molecular chanj;'(- with which
we shall be jiractically concerned was the media'val transition
from the family unit to the alleo-iance unit, fi-om the khidred
to the comitatus. But for the present we shall only notice,
as bein^r intimately connected with the manner in which moral
.prof,a-ess has occurred, the strong contrast that exists ])etween
a comparatively amorphous community and one with well-
defined molecular structure.
In pi-imitive societies the condition is amorphous, that is,
without any marked molecular constitution, uidess in cases
wherein tlie family is a very deHnite i'eatuiv ; and the family
is strong in its cohesiveness, an<I distinct in its form, only
when there is a veiy decided infurion of sexual jealou.sy in
the national character. In mo)'e advanced communities,
sexual Jealousy, though still in latent form as potent as ever,'
has a greatly diminished scope for ()peratif)n. But in the
earlier stages we Hnd only two notably .listinct racial types.
Men may have much or may have little self-assertiveness,
an.i, as a consequence, nuich oi- little sexual jealousy. A
conmiunity characterised by little inclination to assisrt itself is
indifferent and easy-going. Being readily contented, it makes
no .strenuous eftbi-ts to improve its comfort )i- advance its
knowledge. It looks with good-humoured tolerance on the
almost promiscuous intercourse' of its unmarried girls, and
when a man buys a wife for himself, although he is not
without some share of .sexual cxclusiveness, he has no sense of
"^ I'AMILY OS GHOUTR OK MORALS i U
^''■'^^•".st at tlie idea of ion.lin,. Iht or , r
tl.e least re^'ar,! to th^ nrevion ".""" '""""''"^ ^^•''^''^"'t
1,.,; 1 -^ "^ •^'-^'yiacasamoiiLMvlioiii .i^ jf ,\ , ,
''rideoroom actually prefers tl,.,7 ,'':'' '^ ''^ ^''^^^^I'^l^-l, the
'lavobornea clnl/ i, ' ' ? '^'f ^'" '"■"'*' «houM already
't.self, but eventually it lea l^/o ^'''^^'•'^^'t^'- unlovely i,.
be more ..uarrelsome lui udU ''^"T '' ^'" ^^"^ ^'^^^ -"
other, hut in the end thl " rrV""'"^^"''^' '" '•""^' ^''-' ^he
For when their vio",":;^! self v'" "'"' ^^ ''■^''>-- '^^^l-
<''>v.n, when the d^d,^ . T''""'"" ^''''" ''-" ^-'-'
* «oeia. life de.:::;C:LX^;;; r;:;^^^^ ^"- -"•'•-
^-- ^;^tter things than the ^pl i;^, K ^^'T^ ^^'''^^''^^ '^*'
^•ood-huniour. L, ,i,ch •, n. ""''Herent, easy-ooino.
^'-^-iiyto be. . ^i:,n;7?7.;--'.i-lousy c^us.:
--lute in keeping his w ' 2t t r^ """'• ^'"'' '"^^ -
careleas as to whethe^t hi , V" """'*• ^" ^'^ "--■-
;-• Mono,an.y, tL!^L^''^: l:;^-'-- -lly his
it.nmles and nniles are horn n, P^valent. for since
the average n.an w ^ h'^ T""^'t "'"^' '" ""-'-•
already «hown, will he ^rm T' 7'''- '''''' ""■-'■ -
that union will he v ^d Sv'.ir ,"'^; ^'"''"•- '-" of
I'l'^tead of helon.-ino. i,, , ''''^f^ ^^ttiidml to their par-nts
There is. l^^Z: 'T!^ "'^^ '" ''^ ^^'^^^^^ oAribe. '
attirstlikeatraveilerCtlw^ "-^ ^ ''''"^''"'^^ ^* ■•"■"'■^
^'•'; Hussanyeh Arat :n t,^l;:r;---Ub^^^
""'I-vstood to hold good foro / ' ".""■'■'"«'^' '"^ "'^^'O''^
but when a dozen con 1. 1" "'""^' '"^"'•^•^ '" ^''" -..i:
-^ ''a'f a century v, d^^^ ^ '"T '' '"'"'"^'^ ^''-"^1'-
-eept it. John 'petl L , " "'' "•^' '^''""'^^ »'-"' to
PJ-'itly (/^V//y< ^/.. ,V, ; , l''^^;''^' ^.^'"'^ -^ very ex-
r^J- ---4 contract :''!r'::^^'':""'P- 1^2) that
in th
vow.
10 week the brid
Th
e is
<-' Ncale IS two tl,
•ays specifies foi'
«iX])ecte(l to ul
"ow many .1;.,
/H
•serve tin
ays, three thiys, or at tl
"larriai
V'W
■S\i
\:,
le Juost four
i'A-2 'I'llIC OHICIX AM) (ilJOWl'H OF Till': MOKAI, INSTIXCT.
(lays ill tlic week, the usuul terms lu'liij;' tli.it tlic coiitruct
liolds yood for INronday, Tuosilay, Wednesday and 'I'liursda}'."
Dnriii;;' the remainder oi' tlie \veel\ slie may please lierselt',
staying- with lier Imshand or cohahitin;;' with otliers as slie
proi'ers.
There is no race in whicli ahsohite promiscuity prevails i
none in which some sort of marriage, some definite appropria-
tion of women, doea not take })laci'. Vet there arc very many
in which the union of the sexes is too loose to fiivc rise to any
very definite family feeliii<;'. Aiiionj;' a large proportion of
the nei^ro tril)es, as we learn from Brown, Clapporton, Laini;-,
Bosnian and Smith, the women siu'render their persons with a
rcailiiu>ss that sui^'yests how feehle is the prevailing jealousy,
and Major Gray, in speaking of a particular tribe, declares
that " except the few females whom the chiefs keep in re-
straint, the women xany be said to be in common". Almost
as severe are the comments of two English ladies who have
given their experience oi some years of intimate life among
negresses. We know for certain that a wife's company was
readily lent or bartered among Kafirs, Australians, Tas-
manians, Dyaks, Sontals, Domes, Bhotias, Ladaks, Nepalese,
Toilas, Nagas, Semangs, Mooruts, Maoris and Ainus. We
are assured by most respectalile missionaries that among
many Melanesian and Polynesian races, as well as among a
considerable proportion of the Tatar tribes, wives were lent
as a matter of hospitality, and that on public festivals
women were allowed a i-iotous degree of laxity. Robertson
Smith, a most reliable authority, tells us that among the
earl}' Arabs {Marriage and Kinship, p. 110), " when a man
desired goodly seed, he would call upon his wife to cohabit
with some man of recognised excellence ". There are Arab
races in which to-day the same spirit prevails.
Of all mankind, the Aryans have been those most gener-
ally self-assertive and inclined to jealousy. Yet even of
this o'reat stock certain races have not been free from some
degree of inditlerence in regard to their women. Miiller tells
us {Dorians, iii., x., 4) that among the Spartans and other
Dorians a married but childless man was connnended if he
brought in a younger or more powerful man to be the father
•stepmother tcn.l.s to pro.h.cc ■? T ^ ^ ■ ""^"'"'" "*' ^^
f'""i'y. Hut if a , nan -oM ,; "'"■""" ^'"-t "Pou the
y^-a>-.s an.l took a .u-w on h .ri '" '"'' '""•^' *'"•'"■ "'' f^"!"
oiawo.an.n..,--:-s^::;v;Lr^^-^-''-^
'"UKl.. 1 cm,l,l „,,.; ""T,«"™ "1> "'" M,H with a
kai«i.i„.,c„,>ic «,.i:« : „,,„:':': '■" -'■" ■"■ -•• -f ti,a,„
alleys .,f „„,. c,-ow,Ie,i 0. " T '" '"" .'" ""^^ '»"« "-I
l"'» a„„tl,'. el,il,,. T ' ; ; "•;"■"»■ «-l« a «.w ,„„t„ „„,
pa-l,ap» l„.i.,„i„„ i„ „„otl„.,. r ? '"■'''"'"■''■ '"™"tiinc.
A ...„„,bc„. „rti,?» co^i,":.!:"' ,"■';";'"" '"'- •='''''"-•
««.-ly infancy ,„i,,|,t n^-J " . ^ " '"" '""' '"» "'"'l'™ i"
an.i tl.vc. arc, ,Ly „ ,'"' ,"■"",""" '""""■'■ -'-
«il.ly toll w,<, l.a/bc-.° »;■""''*:''" »'"•' ■'"' I-
■".y be little cc-tai rt; ,: ; : '"Tt '^"°' ""'"«'■ "'--
k..o,vn. Hence anWtl ,„„,!!; 'I.'- "'" """'"'■ '" K«'™liy
••»lnp» »ucl, a, McLe, , *'"," ',' '"""""-'"'""I ■••'»«""
'■a» cle»i,n.atc,i by tl Z,, "o, ft :*' "":' '- "■ "'"■^•"'
va,l n^, la.it;, i„ ,,„,,„„ ^Ua^ " ""'"" ''"f-™ "f P«-
'r\y .sort of lie. ,•....-.,.' ''\.'' ^«»'y P^'-iceful an.l
coinuii
^"•oo.
or
"mch cliarna-d A. R." Wall'
ty whicii so
people (luarrt'Ls ai
'e ri
ice in Aralaysia. An.on-r snd
'j«oau,se men sel.b„, fe.l witi
I a
I Nutfi-
1
II
M
4. : , !
lilt
134 THK ORIGIN AXD (JHOWTH OF THK MORAL INSTINX'T.
ciciit keenness to be inclineil for quarrels. If any one tells
a man a lie, he takes it all as truth, and merely tells a bii>'f>-er
lie m return; if anybody steals his property, he lets him keep
it, and when the chance occurs steals an efpiivalent : if a
young man is openly cai-ryino- on an intrio-ue with his
dauo-hter, he ^.aly orins, and thinks complacently how j^reat a
favourite he was himself with the o'irls in his 3'ounger days.
With such an indifferent temper, people rub along- very
pl(\asantly together, but the resultant moi-ality is of a fiabby
kinil, and the community is amorphous in constitution. A
hundred times better the Aryan type, which, like the steed
not easily broken in, is yet well worth the concpxest when its
strength and spirit have once learnt to endure the curb.
I
u (
III:
Ij
The Family as the Molecule of Societv.
Dealing now solely with this Aryan type, harder to disci-
pline but nobler in the end, we have two jiroblems to consider
in regard to molecular constitution. The first is this of the
deMnite family, forined b^- that strong feeling of sexual
jealousy which keeps the maid uncontaminated till wooed
and wedded by a husband who will part with her to no one
while he lives, who is grindy resolute that Iier kisses shall be
his and his alone, that her children shall never need to doubt
but that he is their father. Society in this case is very
evidently formed of well-ilefined molecules. Here stands the
man with the spear, behind him crouch his wife and his
children, and behind every other spearman is a similar group,
and all the public relationships of life are no longer between
indiviilual and individual, but between group and group.
The second problem relates to the size which these groups
will ultimately attain. Suppose that a community of 100
persons is divided into twenty families, each of the natural
average of five individuals. Suppose that the connnunity in-
creases to 1000 persons, will there now be 200 families of five
in each, or will the uund)er of families still remain at twenty,
but with fifty ])ersons in ((acli :" The former would be the case
among civiliseil people of our own times. The latter course
s a Iji^'fjer
INFLUENC
i^as a I way;
consciously
K OK THK l••A.^rIL
that wliieli t:
V ox GROWTH OF MORALS. 18;"
but
le e
'ii-b' Ary
.some type of their duiract
When the nuniher of f
Hs a result of tlie self-asserti
an races adopted, not
ve and
'luarrt
fimilies remains limited hut
of each ..roup evtends h 1'"" """**^'^ '^^^ ^he si.e
tion of socittv o i ; • T'' '''"* Pati-iarchal or^^anisa-
couian,en;:i^^jr;S' f ^'^ '- --'^ «^
Aryan peoples, and determin /i '''''' "''^"'^^^'^'ristic of all
and the fcT-n. assu 1 7 " n""? "' *'"'^^ ^'^^'^-^^-^
-'-- sexual un,^ Jl'' r"" ''fi''. ''''''■ ^' --o- only
where feuds and Ij • "^^K^.^'^^'^/ -' ^^^^^on,, and
a^ressivetyp.of the^^ir^V^rrn"':^ "" ^^"^^"^^'^^
lived in unchanu.i„o. „„„,/;.. ^^^'''' * '^^^^">''^^- a"«l '"other
lon«- in the l..me,;"ltr in t T"'' '"""''""' ^" ^^^^^
.spear. ' ^''"^« themselves behind the father's
Indeed, in a communit\- nf n • ,
far from safe for the V f / '^^'''T ''''^P^'^'tion, it is
when at length he kt a ' • 7 T'T' '" ^"^^'^' '^^'^ ^^--' ^ -'l
fonn a nevv .,.0" te th ' ," r""''' ""' ^^^^ ^'--^J^ to
nothin^tode^eZ:^ ^r,::,^ ;-J-". ^-m, he has
arm. In such n oJ. fi '"''^"'^t^ but his own unaided ri.rht
pose that It h ;^ Z ?r;r f ^T-' ^-W- «"t s^p.
W"-elf and tla-ir Xn- ^''^'"■' ''''' ' ^^"'^ ^--'J"
the father, with tw^o ,i, '; '"' '^^'"'"''^ '^P''^^""-'' -"^
roven,.e himse o ,ss r ' , "'"' '"''^ behind him. can
than before The lit' r'"'^ '^ ""^'^ ^^^^^ P»^'Pose
all quarrels: n. fi i^^f ' '"" ■^""^''"^«- ^^^ «-'' <>tli- in
weai in eompal^ I'" ,^:.^;;' ^^ "^ ^^ for himself is
homes, every son in hi L 1 • ^'"'"^' '"' *° ^'"^"'^ "^w
The familv thu ^t nde ' "T '" ^', "^''^ '' ''" «''' ^-"-•
domineered .Z .1 " T"^ '^'^^"'^ *'^ «'^-«^^> f- - it
sons would 1 : o Z' ^; "'T "' '^^ ^^^"'^*'^' «-"''-
would be no li i . :^ ; ^tT T '"'T'^'''' ^'"' ^^^--^
left the familv woul .o « tl n ""^'^ ''• ^^'^'^" ^"' ^''^^
bullied and oppress ;,n.lu"Vor"':f"'^^'""^ *° ''^'
•ntm wouhl have found t, tf I . . , *^ "'eantime, other
form their ^.n^y^^^o^''^' ^ "'' ''f ^ °""' '""^^
societv wo.d., ,... ..?';;"'"• ^^^";^ *'^^^ •"••^"-•^1 constitution
of
•ty would be that of
which to be isolate<l, would
«-roups of extended families fr
mean for almost any
■om
man
^ I
1 ii
VAC) THE ORIGIN VXD GROWTH OF THK MORAL INSTINCT.
i I
m
'M
•K'struction or .slavciiy. For we ai-L- prcsapposiiifr a very
flistinctly a<,';,nvs,sive and self-assertive type oF Immanity,
wliich will tak(! where it has the power, and has no liope of
kcepin^^ save where it lias the streno-th. ()( such a class were
all the early Aryan people. For them no easy indifference;
it was ever a word and a blow ; nothin(( so <,dorioiis an the
booty o^ained in war ; nothino- so mean as the man unready
for fierce conflict whether to take or .lefend. In such a
society the extended or patriarchal family, when once
definitely started, would be a prime success ; and everywhere
the choice would be either thus to combine or else to yo
under; either thus to increase in stren<,'th or else to pass
in slavery or submission l)eneat]i the yoke of those who did.
And yet there woui.' always be some limit to the {>Towth
of such a family. In f^eneral, from fifty to eighty individuals
dwelt together. In early agriculture, only small patches of
land are sufficiently rich and clear enough of heavy timber to
be utilised. When all the patches readily accessible were
farmed, and all the grassy lands in the neighbourhood were
occupied with cattle, then the family had reached its greatest
size. Straitened resources would compel a process of hiving
off". In the modern Sclavonic house-comnuinities which are
the still-existent models of the ancient patriarclial family,
about sixty persons form the average according to Professor
Bogisic ((juoted Sir Henry Maine, E((rbj Lino, p. 261). In
the laws of Howell we see that among the Welsli of the
ninth century, kinship was reckoned to the fifth degree, an
extent which would recognise an average of not more than
eighty in the family. Numerous expressions and detailed
arrangements of the Teutonic laws suggest that in very
primitive times this must have represented something like
the extent over which kinship was operative.
But even where the difficulty of fooil supply was over-
come there would be in early times a natural limit to increase
of the family. Where there are eighty persons at that grade
of advancement there will be about a dozen married couples,
and when so many with their children live in the same house-
hold, little frictions and jarring interests must inevitably
arise. The bigger the conglomeration tiie more probable is
1
tl
' ^Hi. KU„M- ox .HOWnr O. MOHAI..S. 187
le occijiTcnct' of
•'^o'lH' sti-aii, wlnV'l
'"•-"'Ptivo Turn., UM.I split tl
I Wll
• I'll
tuully
parts
"' 'I'^wciatioii into tw
L'Xert u
<> or more
'^ ^i/.- of the ,.xU.M,U>.l fa..,il.
''y tl.0 balancing of Iwrir''. 7''^ '''"■"'■'''•'' '''■*-•''"»-»
t'-at sort of int:r„ 1 r,.X^'*'^ ^"'^^'■^ ' "" ^''•' -H' luuul
American socialistic ox .Z: '"""", "'''■'' '"''"-'' ^1-
to less than an avera-^ "tw V "'V "• ''''' '" ""'"'-^•)
other han.l. while this^. le I ' ' • "' ''""T"' ""■''• ^^" ^'-^
ont..ie of the fa.il, t";;:;i\;:::;::s;!7^^
host!;:;:' '""^'"'^•^"'^^ ----'-
t>.eGe;::rin:;;;;::rct"^'r'"'^
<^ornpiIe.l, we .shall 1 se 'f' !"' "'"•^ ''^'^''^••- ^'--' were
<'«atlx o. slavery o\- Tt H "-n"'' "' '""-^ '"''' '"'"•l^'^-^l.
awaited ev.ry n „U le^ ,, le' ;" ''r\. -'"I'l^-t- spoliation
very plainly. When the An-do S" ' '''"'' ^^"'Ptoins
-'^.1-d. the laws of ina ^11^^;::^:^^;::' -''''-' •-
or a stranL^er iournev tt.vnnr • tHi--connncr man
neither sh^ut^o'Z ' X^ T 'f ^^ f' "'^^'^^^'^>' ^^^
and to be either slain or Ihr" fit" " "" '" '^ ^^"'^^'
men of each other. (Thorne i n-^ ""eriy .I.strustful were
En^.lan,l, the Statute o^ Vi ^ ^ ''" "^ ^''''^ '' ^^Ho-in
times (for there were "L-^ "7"""'"^ '^^* '-^^ '-^^
borou^rh and villi' ,' > • '"' ' ''"' '^"'^'^^ ^'^'^^'^^
that aViy o f fitrt r ''• '"'^•'^ '^^'"^ ^'' ■^"»-^- -^^
% the sa«.e statute («;« 5) vv s ''^ ^f^r"' '"'"' '''' ^''^^
of eve.^ highway a l;:^!!f' ^L^^: ^ T ^ f ^^ ^^^'^
bushes, .so that a man while trav ■! H. \ "^^ '^'^' "^"
of the onset of his encmu ,'^^'''- "^'«bt ^.et fair warning
Thus within .six ,tuS " " ''^''^ ^" ''^•^■"-' '"--It!
body expected ^^^ :;^:t iT"^'^''"'^'" "^^^ ^-^-
»night. But away In . e u-I I'' ^'''^'''y ""' ^^«t he
-t i^-om the sh 1^ t ; ': -.rr'^f'^^ '"- -h--vea
a ti
me
oppression
escape. wa.s doomed
lus kmdred, thou.}, he mi^d.t for
ere long t(j .I^str
uction or
' lii
138 THK OUrcl.V AND GROWTH OK THE MORAL INSTINCT.
1»
Family Morals.
We see, theroforo, that within the fau.ily n.on ha.l every
reason to lean, the le.s.son,s of nmtuai forhearance. Those wlio
slept in that cluster of huts, as ni^.ht .lesce-xle.! on the dark
orest that stretehe.l all an unci, harbouring, who couhl tell what
toes or envious n,airai,lers, would lay down their limbs to rest
m a se.ise ot ex-iuisite security only when they felt the close
continuity of warm-hearted, strono--,sinewe.l, a"nd well-armed
brethren and cousins. Thoujrh self-assertive in type, the indi-
vidual would be willing' to endure much and for^nve a m-eat
deal m order to enjoy that sense of comfort and protection,
llie man who mule himself obnoxious within the family
would run the risk of bein^. thrust forth, and we know that
tins was the chief penalty for misconduct in the early times
How oHen around the winter hearth or underneath the
sprea.ln,i. tree on summer twilio.hts must the <,a-ave debate
have proceeded, and how often nnist the prayer of mother,
the entreaty of wife, the tears of chil.lren, have secured foi^
the culprit another chance : And incorri<rible must have
been the offender who failed to realis. the doom that would
await any future transgression, when lie should be shak.n like
a vat h-on. tb. bao- while the terriers watch all round to seize it
Ihus diseiphne was maintained: thus usao-es of honesty'
forbearance, and all the offices of household kindliness o-rew
up withm the family circle. Meantime the family as a whole
was ,n a state of chronic warfare with all the neiohbourii...
families. Out of these relations grew all tlie usages of war
of reprisal of negotiation, of compromise, of compensation for
injury, and of treaty rights and concessions. From the u.sac--es
that grew up within the family sprang morality ; from th^se
that grew up hrtween the families sprang law. These were at
hrst most w..Iel3- <litferent in their nature, the one dependent
upon natural loNe ami the play of sympathy: the other
< epend.>nt on fear and the expectation of retaliation. The
<hfterence ,s analogous to that which now obtains between the
laws wlu-h preserve or.ler within each country, and that body
ot usage which is known as international law. Within the
8tate men .leal with one another as justice and a sense of
1
INSTINCT.
IXFLUKX( J.; oF
'Hue I-AMir.V OX
n'l'-l
t dictate. Bnt hetxveen t)
'i"y .sti-oii-' Stat
unl
will seixf tl
f
Il's.s it luis reason to .Irea-l t)
H" uta
le ten
'-liOWTH OK MUKALS. 181>
itoiy of
f'-ence of other strong- states. I
le i-etaliatioii or ioal
fi Weaker
one
joalou.s inter-
Kuropean P-.wers;;;i;at'ZI;. T '"' '"'""'"' ^"''^'^^ "'' ^'"^
-tchfu, fear of other na^l^t '''^^.l^^'-f"" ^^l '^^ the
ot 'levelopn.ent re.-nlates intern., H'^ /' ''''"" ''^"^•^'^'
i-etaliation ah.ne rules in n n "'' ''"^ ^''^ ''^^^' '>*'
An.I until nation, have lea nt fT' 1 '."'^'^•"'^tional concern.
-" -'ti'me to he tile Z W::'';^ ^^ "''^^•^^^^"" *'-
i-^ffuvl to soverei.n, peonies F "' ^''"'''"'^ "«^^' '"
•"orality that ,,.,,, n^lZuTf T'''^' *'" '"^^^^ '^^
--ertion an.l Tetaliati n ^^""''y an.l those of .self-
tant is the .listinetio ''"''' "^^ ''^^--'"^ ^t- '^o i'"por-
f-- of new words : . .,,27"! '^ ^"f "' ^'^^ ^••^^'^' ' ^
/^<^'«^^.' that hody oi' usaiwi ;o ■ •'<--«'«'nHte as ^..v;.
i-th. those nL,e«:?^j ^ :::;:;;;;?-' ^'t-*^'^'^
•^pruno- n.nialit- [ ^u.,u ,,„ "''' ^'^^' ^^•«»' which ha,H
on^inaliy consisted o I^.X":, ^" ^f'' '^-' '-t w^ich
^■euds were a^ erted and even ' "'i""''*-'"t'S whereby fanuly
'-ly of aplastic u : ' cf d"'rr'"'- ''-^ *h^^ '^^"i.
';"t the reniainder o? th^ ^IL ^I^il ^ '''''''''!' '"'^P^^'
■short .sketch of the opera iotnf , ' ^"'""^''"'^ ''''''^' ^'
«-^-owth of niorals. ' "^ penhestic usao-,. i„ the
'»0"est, .o he chas e o " "''^'' '" ^^ ^^-'^tliful. to be
as nutters of C;^ " '" T""^' '""' "^"^'^^ ^'"-t"- ^-ew
-bordinate pa^ T ' ,r d.^^^"^^' -^-'- ^ear pla^d a
In his aphestie u a-e „ n . s \ Tu "'"' "^^'"^'^^^ '^«ection.
by wa/onh- of !h-ea If th " ■^^'' ''''' '^'^^^ ^he.se thin,.
-early growth na^^^
peHhe.tie ,s. T^'::::^:'::^^:' ^'^^^^y ^^^ of
til
insni
esion anioi
1 too-etlier. H
themselves; tlie}
patriarch was the bond which kt,.
■«»-aiulsons had little co-
is u
x'eat
■pt
were only the children of
I'
^
<;*
li > I
'I
ii- i
140 THE ORIGIN AND GKOWTH OF THl': MOKAL INSTINCT.
; J i
U.i
coasins, a deoree of relationHhip to wliicli wo ourselves attach
no o-reat importance. How few of us keep up an intimacy
witli those who are the eliildren of our father's cousins. The
okl man's yTandsons heiii^' cousins nii^dit feel themselves truly
related; but even then the presence of their one conniion
ancestor would o.ive oreater deHniieness and cohesion to the
i--niship. If, then, a family was to I)e lar<;-e tmd powerful it
.ust be gathered in strong- devotion round tho hous(;-father ;
anil if he had the reputation of rememl)ered prowess, his son.s
and g-randsons, yes, and his great-grandsons, would gather
round him with affectionate pride. Xot his the fate of the
old outworn farmer among ourselves wlui dozes and gruinble.s
unheeded at the chinniey corner. Being the visible sign of a
union on which depends the family'.s safety an<l prosperity,
even at his oldest and frailest he is cherished ; and when he is
dead ami passed away still do his sons teach their grand-
clnldren to reverence the tomb and consult the spirit of him
whose common fatherhoo.l must bind them in affectionate
strength to stay by each other and face their common foe.
But undoubtedly the highest degree of prosperity would
attend the family whose house-father had been sagacious and
brave. Not only would his descendants on the average
inlierit some of his qualities, but his tact would help to keep
the whole well knit and comparatively free from internal
strains. Moreover, as agriculture improved and slaves were
acciuired and the difficulty of food supply grew more remote,
such a man might by his very renown keep together his
great-great-grandsons, or even later descendants, long after he
was himself departed. For it is an inevitable feature of
human nature to take a pride in being associated with great-
ness. How did the British seaman exult when he found he
was chosen for service on Nelson's own ship : How do the
electors congratulate each othei- when the member for their
district is chosen for a prominent office in the cabinet ! What
pride Klls the parishioner's breast when he learns that his
clergyman has been newly decked with august University
honours '. So does the renown of an ancestor reHect glory on
all the family ; so does it tend to keep th.- vouiurer stock
from hiv
mg off and founding new fai
nines.
H
1,
STINCT.
ves attach
intimacy
iins. Tlie
IveN truly
coimiioii
ion to the
)wei'i'ul it
se-father ;
i, liis sons
Id gather
te of the
gruiubles
sign of a
ronperity,
hen he is
ir grant! -
t of liini
'ectionate
Q foe.
by would
3ious and
average
) to keep
internal
ves were
s remote,
sther his
after he
ature of
h great-
found he
v' do the
for their
: What
that his
liversity
,dory on
T stock
all »,.„„„,,. cau^; ;• ',tx'"''»'v'"*- »»■*■■•
necessity, „„t „„ ,„,t„,,,,| „ „ ' ,X„ ' n'','"'"; '^' "™"S
«.cK ,„„„ l„„k to l,i.s ottie" , r' '■'-"'"«i""» to bid
comnun.l of .1,,. oollr So' ' '"' ,7';';i""""»b- "I'^y Wk- least
.- ■ "-oiunel, ."50 \VU t cl tH; .soti.j in fl.,.. t 1
80 woul.l tliov *,■■,!„ .1," tl'i'"- taca, lo tlie latlu.,- ;
anticipate «^1 ," "-■.f';;''™"'" "' '.''-- '-" wi.,1, „,„
authority of the ,,1,1 „ „ n 'I'""- "ecimty. The
«"!,'le o„e „f the vo,n, f ^ h- >«■ >ee., le.,, than that of a
™le which «t „,;,:""' '" """ ™-'y I"l""'. The
Withi,, that ci le ' l" """ '■'■'"'•■'■'"" "> ""■• family.
then al. authority „.„» .i:^L^ ^ VZ^,: , ":''""'">■
''"".;"■« *a' ■i»i>oti™,. ia,„,-ii„, r..! ; A ■'■■ "■"
^Semitic people wh,vi, h>,. p ,. -^ Aiynn aiK
An a.f„,' ,.iini;y:';;:;;, .,,'•; ;:';;,:, t; ;;■' '"';;•« .;"'-„.
■"to the househohl ,ea« tau.-ht f,; ' ^r"'" '«"- I-" '
l"n...Ba,l. ,„„,.,le..ous n,e„ were "„, , ,e '",, '■°7™'«-
lay bcyon.l the forest. A„ai,„t th ,1 , , " "'"'■''' '
-'.^an.isoa.;:^,':-::;:™----
author!
^,^it.ed authority, I„ the
■ity of the paterfamilias was ahv
fath
er
may be a pure despotism, he hav
"iitural family the po
•ays a dele
jwer of tin
"»g none under him
f ft
I' I
u4
F
i\i
142 THK OiUGIN ANU GKOWTTi OF THK MCJJtAL INSTINCT.
1 '
I'll
lii.
but women and cliildrcn physically incapable oi' disputin-;' Ids
will. Not HO in the case of the.se extended raniilies. "They
are as far as pos.sible," says Elaine, "from beino- patriarchal
<le.spoti.sm.s. Every male has a voice in the government."
{Early Law, p. 244.) Heani is equally explicit: "It seems
that the house-father in the exercise of his authority was
expected to act in a judicial capacity. He was \Mt to follow
liis own caprice, but was to be the administrator of the customs.
He usually acted wilh th.e advice of a fannly council."
{Aryan Household, p. iiO.) Hearn o'ives instances from
Roman history which most clearly indicate this linutation,
and show that the paterfamilias could not expose an infant,
or put his wife to death or lixpel a disobedient son unless he
had tlie feelin<;' of the males of the fannly in his favour. In
IMato's laws (xi., 9) we see that the father nuist not exer-
cise an arbitrary Jurisdiction, but must call a meetini-- of the
male relatives to give their counsel. Coulanj^'es (juotes from
Tacitus, Livy, and the Di<;ests, evidence which fully sustains his
contention that the paterfamilias consulted the entire fannly
(males, of course;, and raised it into a tribunal wherein he
presided. {La Citi Antifjvc, \x \02.)
We know that in the Sclavonic and oriental hou.se-com-
niunities, all the corporate powei- of the fannly is ddeoated to
the ;4ran<l father. He it is who l)uys and sells and nej-otiates :
he it is who reprimar ' and allots to each his daily task, and
so long as he acts in accordance with ancient usage the moral
force of the whole will support him. If the general feeling is
antagoiustic or divided, then comes occasion for meetings and
discussions ; which, however, but randy arises. The result is
to give the house-father a nominal despotism, such as we
give to the captain of a ship, though in reality strong checks
are provided bi the form of dormant responsibilities. It
.served admirably the cause of union luid uni|Uestioniiig
<jbedience to exaggerate his power. Hence the extravagant
theory of the patrla potrstax truly expressed the beliefs of our
ancestors, though widely .liveigeiit from th" hidden verities
of the case. (Jrtolan thus explains the Roman view {ifiM. of
Hina. Law, sect. «8): "The haml of tlie paterfamilias was the
Nymbol of power. Chattels, slaves, chililren, wife and free-
men, all were subject to hi,,, in i.;
tins authority. The Iiouse-father ' h.s* , J V- ""I ''^ ^'''^''''
power of life ami deatl, '^, " /^'^■'^ "^^''- '''^ c-hil.hvn the
corporal punishment". ' ' (^oxma, of uiicontrolle.I
Coulanges tells us (p, ]09) tj,,. ...
-uld be either plaint,'ff; ll„tnt """ " ''^' *■^^^^"'•
7>tness in a Romln Cou.. " "a"^ ./r'"';;'; .— '' o^"
cannot clain, anythin.. in a ro,,,/ T /' ''"" ^'^•' 77),
of possessing, anything An" / 7' '"" '"" '"^ '^^^'P^^
father could fve riset no le. !• '^ ' "^" ''«"'"'^t his
-lely . U.. l,ther-s .Sic^if:" "'^ ''^"^"^'' '^ ''^"-^«''
V et mou^rh theoretically absolute tl,
^tther had one ,reat restricL^f I'd' t,,r"''"' ''' '"'"'"
He was there to administer not 1 "'"-' '''"' "'""«''•
tHe ,-oodold custon,so tl 'tt,ir ? "^/"•'f^-^y -i„, ,.„,
there is little wish for in., vatt^ \n V>' '^'"•''"•''-' '"'"<>
--'-ire to do. Itsav::::^,^;:, :f^'7'ii;Uhe
"-ereis no tedio.,s bala..ci,.. of the'?''^ '"'"'"•
course or of that :..oassu„.ntiono . '"^'''''''^^'' of this
This was how our a..cesto ^^ d ^ , d h""" ^•'■^'-'-''i'ities.
^velI with them. If we do th ^"'^" ''""^' '"'t '^i.-Iy
A".i ir this fceii:/i'trr"?^"r^'''^"-'^^^-/
'■""oM-ed, it is a blessi.;:. T '" '^'^^r-'^^''^' ^oo al.iectiy
f nables us to propi:;^'^, tS^ ^""^"'"'^^ to ..iety : ft
•l-ky actio., of .Lsodat d :tln "^^ it co..ve.-ts the
-te,. ed n.echanis.„. Witl.i, s^^ T H^T '''' '' '"
'h".ser,bin^., n.atters would move fnv, ''•^' ''' ''''' "re
i" the establishn.e..t o ."hTro, t .'" ' ''''' '•""^■■-'- -'
''"••t- Jn o..e of o,.r n.o t h ' '"''' '"^ '■"""^'"- ^""'-
with the tacit assuntn::;;;^ r;;;::;;^f ^ ^^ ••- - ni^ht
:'''^' »'t.nn«. see that the li.d.t , . *' ^' ''^'"^^'hoM w,M
J-ked:whileitisathi,.J:: ,; ,"''\:''''' t>- 'loo. are
""•^'''•^■- ^^'i"--all I.e.- l^liti ""'■'■'■"'"■•' ^'"^ttho
carves the Joints a..d the t^h^ t; "' ^" ••'•^•' '''''" 'ather
-i.iHs.-espectiveiy j;tt;;'r ::"'•' ^^^^^^
because the law wills
or, as a rule, because th
le
II
it so,
ito theii- V
'a.-ious
or any conti-act
i'rooves, i.ot
e parents have
lias so pi-ovided
(S 'ki i
'•■0 di.-ecte.I, but
111
l44 THK DIUCUN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
gene
ral Sim
ply i>y
reason oi" nsao'e. So in one of those lai'irei'
households of the antiijue times, in what jilace eacli was to
sit, and wlun-e to sleep, what share of tlie tasks he was to
take and what share of tlie result; liow lie should address the
other members and how be addressed by them — all these and
eve.-y detail of intercourse would be very (rra(hially yet very
firmly fixed by nsa<;'e, and eveiy boy and j^irl would grow up
to take the place and perform the exact duties long since
taken or performed by their elders at the same age.
Now the influence of the house-father was mainly as the
exponent of ancient usage. If he reprimanded some younger
member for disregarding an old custom, all the seniors would
know he spoke truly, and keep silence. If some unusual
conjuncture arose, he alone would speak from prolonged
experience, and all would listen to li^s statement of the
manners of the past. 80 long as the old man's words kept
each to the well-known routine, or taught the young what
was well understood and assented to by their elders, his voice
would seem law. But if he departt>d from usage, mutterings,
arguments, and meetings would follow. The house-father then
would well perceive that his power must rest on a strict
administration of usage.
Nor would that usage be in any way vague and variable.
We are apt to imagine that, without the control of some external
law, customs would grow utterly irregular and chaotic, each
family ditt'ering materially from every other. Yet among
ourselves we do not find that this is the case. What law
directs that men shall cut their hair short, while women
suffer theirs to grow long :' What law settles that when we
meet we shall offer the right hand and never the left ? Pass
through a village or down a suburban street at nine o'clock in
the evening : you will fiml almost every house still lit up and
the people astir: pass again only two or three hours later,
you will scarce find a house with a light in it; you will hear no
signs of life around you. What sends the people to bed S'j
generally between ten and eleven, summer or winter, irre-
spt!ctive of the setting of the sun t All these things depend
on the power of usage, which for the great majority fixes the
hour of rising in the morning, the hour of starting work,
>•. • «v
Stinct.
io.se lai'gei*
ch was to
he was to
ddress the
these and
' yet very
I grow lip
ily as the
e younger
ors would
J xmusual
prolonged
it of the
ords kept
ung what
, his voice
lutterings,
ither then
1 a strict
. variable.
external
,otic, each
et among
Vhat law
c women
when we
ft ? Pass
o'clock in
lit up and
lurs later,
ill hear no
to bed S'j
iter, irre-
fH depend
' fixes the
ng work,
INFLUENCE Op
the hour of leaving oft; tJi
THE FAMILY ON GHOWT
'H OP MOKALS. J.4;'
1(3 hours of
,t
routine of the da^r An d't hHsf ""'" "^' ^^" "'« ^^--^
-y law. Men wear til an f l''^ """ ^""^^•^""^ ^'-"
«-- or less that is fan a^' / , ""-Tf convenience, there is
there is also moralitv BW 2 T] 7 '''''' '"'^^""'^^ but
hold are from infancy s:;;;;tdt"'' 1^*^"^ *^^^ '---
^^'hile the youtli i,s trained toT^ • '^^"^-""'^''l. Even
taught to glory in the Mood a , ^^''""* '^" ""*«i'J«. and
foe. all cu^ion^ ^lltl^^^^^^^'^'' '' ''' ^^^"^'^^^-^
and kinsmen within the fami v 1 , ' f' '"^'""''^ brothers
^^^l^mny, or strip the^t^^J ^^ ^l^^ ^ ; P'"f ^ -eiy
honesty as a domestic comfort .s . V" ''*''• ^"^
P-^ee within tiie family Ts ^l ' /i T"] "' "^'^'^"'^^ "^«
to do that share of the wor - u f ""^^''f "''• Every man is
ceeds which usage aZ: ^' 'l^^^'^' !^^^^ ^^ "le pro-
a man i« dealing with men of oM '^' ''^^^^^h ^ruth. When
- -"hassador.^'and thT tc;i'";T.'"f "'^ ^^ niay lie like
-hen he returns h<mr; L r ll TT ^"' ^'^^^^'^^
applause. But, within tli f . "i^ '"'"' '^^"^'^ter and
"-" wilfully to deh^ t""^; "T^^ "-- «"«-« that
tlH' comfortf union r; In *,""''^'""»tally essential to
that each sh ni ^i ' ' " r'""; ■''""«■"' «^' ^^^ ^^-'^
'n>ore is nee.led ni e t ,r f "" "","""' °^' ''' ^he others.
wment of truth n:!; ' T;:::i;;;rr ^^ "^^^^? ^^^ -
r-chase'r ti ; p!: -^iiii/rf *"""" '•'^"^^ «'■ '"-^^^^
to our views with reoj I ' • ' ' ""^o^responded somewhat
's of rotal-l; :r"':!:^ T'^'^^^^' «ubse,,uently, as the
which formod that b,
' ^'^'"" P'lbac law provided ti
should not
VOL. II.
ly of aphestif
I'at a man of one family
'"■""■" » ■"»" '"■ " ."■.■«M.oun„« f„,„ii;,;
inter-
i ,H ^■- , '
!
u
146 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THK MORAL INSTINCT.
rering with his wife, then the idea of athiltery became in-
chided in the
in tne f^eneral notion with regard to chastity. We
have ah-eady seen that etjually among ancient Greeks and
Romans and Jews and Teutons this was tlie utmost stretch to
which ideas of sexual virtue had reached. A man could be
innnor.il in regard to a kinswoman, unjust in regard to a
neighbour's wife, but he could be in no wa}' sinful in regard
to slave or captive.
True morality, then, in this respect grows up within the
family. Even now it is strongest there, and dies ott" in pro-
portion to the <listance from the family. Captain Cook's
officers, who gratified themselves with the dusky beauties of
every island they visited, would have loathed the thought of
injuring sister or niece ; most of them wouM have felt too
gentlemanly to seduce a maiden of their own rank or circle :
but as for inferior ranks, as for women of foreign lands, as for
women of another colour, in proportion as the circumstances
were remote from th.eir own family, which was in truth the
centre of their moral feeling, so did the conception of chastity
as a general ideal fade away. That was once the attitude of
all men, as it is to-day of a considerable proportion.
There is no great ilifficult}' in understanding how the
perihestic notion of chastity grew up within a race of strong
sexixal jealousy. It sprang naturally out of circumstances
coiniected with a dee])-rooted principle of human nature, the
fact that novelty counts for uuicli in the process of falling in
love. When a boy and girl have grown up together in con-
stant familiarity, *^hey will not i-eadily fall into any romantic
affection. There is nnich of truth in the dictum of Jeremy
Bentham : "Individuals accustomed to see each other and
know each other from an age which is capable neither of con-
ceiving desire nor of inspiring it, will see each other with the
same eyes to the end of life ". ( T/icor;/ af Lciiishit urn ,\)&Yi iii.,
chap. V.)
But when the youth has reached impressionable age, it is
the voice, the sight, the touch of maiden never seen before
that sets his blood a-throbbing and kindles the thrill of be-
witching emotion. It is when the handsome stranger benrls
on her his looks of fancy-smitten a^hniration that the mai<len
e
c)
INFLUENCE OF THE FAMILY ON GROWTH OF MORALS. 147
first feels a conscious something, whose blush is one of pleasure
as much as of modesty. With the boys of her owA house-'
hold she long has s.,uabble.l and made friends ; she likes
them: „, their way they are heroes to her, but they are not
the heroes of the youthful <lrean. of love. The sense of con-
quest, when the stalwart youth from another fan.ily confesses
the power of her beauty, is a wholly different matter. AmouL'
ourselves, nineteen out of twenty marriages take place be-
tween persons who have never seen o.ie anothe.- until old
enough to be impresse.I with the sight of each other, thrilled
by the voice, and electrified by the touch.
When sexual jealousy is small this will „„t of itself ,le-
velop the ideal of perihestic chastity. The youth as he -a-ows
to years of wakening impulse woul.l readily gratify hin.self
with the girls of his own household even though the grand
passion of his life should be reserved for the beauty seen
without But if sexual jealousy is strong, as in Semitic or
Aryan type, other conditions arise. Suppose that a youth
has grown enamoure.l of a mai.len in a neighbouring family
riie house-father of his community .leman.ls her in marria-'^'e
for hun; the maiden's family state their price, or probalJy
there is a certain value fixed by usage. But when th. ne-
gotuitions are partly completed, the youth Hnds that his in-
tended bride is far from pure: he learns that sl... has been
taught lewdness by the youth of her own family. I„ „ia„v
races this woul.l hanlly matter, but with the Aryan there
woul.l rise a sense of di.sgust, an.l the match xvoul.! be broken
off with words of contumely. Still wor,se if the marria.-e
had been effected, and the bride discovered to be contamiiuitJi'l-
then, we know how .li.s.lainfully she w.jul.1 be returned^
perhaps to be put to .leath as the M.,saic legislation directed'
Deut. xxn. 21.) For nothing coul.l more seriously anovr h.-r
family than to be compelle.l ignominiously to "resto'i-e the
pnce or _e se to fight a feu.l un.ler terms .>f reproach an.l
insult which they knew to be true.
Under these circumstances, in a monogamous people among
whomsexual jealousy was Nvell .levelope.l, there woul.l be
every in.lucement for the el.lers of the family to conserve the
chastity of the girls. Such a practice would necessarily arise
]h
r
'I
V'%
148 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
from the two prevailiii^f customs of exog imy and the pur-
chase of wives. Exoo-aiuy is the necessary result of the
principle of human nature already described, according to
which the young man is much more susceptible of the tender
passion in regard to the unknown maiden without, than in
regard to tlie too familiar maiu n within.
Wlien it has grown more or less customary for the youth
to .seek his bride, not from the girls of the hou.sehold whom
he holds in familiar affection as sisters, but from the beauties
beheld outside of the family, then acces.sory conditions will
arise to give this growing usage a commanding strength.
The family will be able to secure a good price for a pure
maiden demanded in marriage for a youth of another family.
Every care will be taken that her value is not depreciated.
Moreover, in the constant patching up of feuds, a maiden to
be given in marriage to some enamoured youth was a great
resource of family negotiations, as in the Europe of five
centuries ago it was in political arrangements.
Even where the natural tendency (jf the youth to form his
absorbing passion for the unfamiliar maiden is not strongly
operative, the elders of the household would in general en-
courage it. P'or nothing could more conduce to the disruption
of a family than the occurrence of amorous rivalries and
jealousies within it. If a maiden were so comely as to steal
the hearts of two or three of her cousins dwelling I'ound the
same hearth : if, moreover, an unmarried uncle or two should
urge his pretensions, then discord and enfeeblement must in-
evitably lie in the immediate future for that household. As
Jeremy Bentham puts it (Theortj of Lcyislatiov, part iii.,
chap, v.): "The family — that retreat where repose ought to
be found in the bosom of order — becomes the prey of all the
in(|uietudes of rivalry, and all the furies of passion. Sus-
picions banish confidence, and eternal enmities take the place
of the tenderest sentiments of the heart."
Thus it would become wise for the house-father and all
the elders of the household to encourage the natural tendency
to look outsi<le for wives, by teaching the boys from the very
beginning, that the girls of the family were not for them,
and so an exogamy of mere sentiment would become an
exogamy of strict usage.
I--
INFLUENCE OF THE FAMILY ON GROWTH OF MORALS. 149
It would Imppon, therefore, tliat thouirh men ha.l no con-
ception ot any o;e„eral idea of chastity for themselves, two
very dehnite i.leas wouM nevertheless ^row up, the one that
a inai.len who had lost her virtue was thereby reduced in
value, and became a disgrace to her family when it sou-dit to
p ace her in marria-e ; the other that it was most disho",our-
able for a man to make use of his familiarity in the household
to del)auch his kinswoman, thus entailin- loss of priee to the
wliole family, an.l causing, it to experienc... all those bitter feel-
in^^s which with us the tradesman knows when the article he
has sol.l IS returned to him with an expression of scorn For
we are all well awaix' what a -leep stain it was on the honour
ot every kinsman when a ^.irl was publicly .leclared no
maid.
This is the only valid explanation of the idea of incest.
It IS futile to urge the old belief in an innate instinct, for if
that were the reason, a general uniformity must be expected •
but there is nothing of the sort to be found. Some nations
to erate, some heartily approve the marriage of Hrst cousins •
others utterly execrate it, and forbid even the union of third'
cousins. Sometimes the marriage of uncle and niece or of
nephew and aunt is forbid.len with horror; sometimes it
IS held to be innocent enough: many nations, and among
them the ancient Celts, allowed a man to marry his step-
mother, and we have seen how many are the peoples which
permit or have permitted a son to take all his fathers wives
except his own mother. How uncertain are we ourselves as
to the propriety of marriage with a sister-in-law or brother-
in-kiw. In all the discussion as to marriage with a deceased
wife s sister, has there ever been any sign of a uniform instinct
to guide us ?
The nearer we get to the very closest relationships, the
more we approach a certain degree of uniformity. May a
man take his half-sister to wife ? Abraham saw no harm in
•such a connection (Genesis xx. 12), and most of the Greeks
were more or less of that opinion. Westermarck {Hist of
Human Marriage) gives a list of twenty-two people who are
known beyond doubt to have readily permitte.l such unions.
But the marriage of full brothers and sist.n-s has been rarely
' iB
)\k.
\4
lit)
II
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'T
150 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
tolerated by any people, while the union of father and
dauo-jiter, or of mother and son, is allowed only auiono- the
most .le-raded sava^^es. But it is clear that the Chole
matter is too vaffue and variable to be the result of a race
instinct.
It is e.iually futile to attribute it, as is now often done to
a knowledfre of the results of inl.reedinjr. This would be to
attrd)ute to sava/<es a definite comprehension of physiolorncal
ertecis as to wliich the most advanced science is yet uncertain
It IS to assume that people who married their o-irls at eleven
years of a«-e and put to death their ottsprin^^, were yet deeply
solicitous about the evils of marryin^r cousins.
Moreover, both of these explanations are 'put out of court
by the fact that the prohibition always extended as much to
toster-relationships, as to those of l,lood. If a man mi^ht not
marry his sister, he mij.-ht not marry his foster-sister, thou-di
neither instinct nor physiological reason could be alle<.-ed fbr
the pr.jh,bition. A man was no more at liberty to marry Ids
toster-.lauo-hter than to marry his real dau^diter. Amonj--
ourselves it woul.l be a most unseemb' thin^' for a man to
marry his adopted <lauo-hter, or for a woman to marry the
man whom as a baby she had suckled. Yet neither law nor
physiology torbi.ls. It is merely sentiment that declares how
unpleasant it seems for tender relationships of a wholly
ditieicnt sort to be smirched by the intrusion of sexual
desires.
Chastity is thus seen to be a virtue which, in the case of
men, seems in the ordinary practical conceptions of the averacre
comiuunity to lessen in its obligation as it recedes from the
family circle, to strengthen in its authority as it iiears the
heart ot that original fountain of all moral feeling ; and at its
nearest it gathers a fresh intensity, a superior degree of con-
trol, so that the breach of it acquires the new name of incest •
yet where incest ends and mere immorality begins is one'
of the vaguest of lines of demarcation, because there is no
real distinction but only subtly graded degrees of condem-
nation.
INFLUKNCE OF THK FAMILY ON GROWTH OF MORALS. 151
It is THK Family whiph Infuses Morality into
THE Law.
Tims we siiu that moral rules as to ))loo(lslie(l, honesty,
tnith, chastity are all, hy hirth, of family orowth. 81ay, rob,'
deeeiYe, ravish as mucli as you please all those outside the
family. Such is the Feelino- of a primitive community. But
withiii it, leai-n the lessons of forbearance, .jf honesty, of
sincerity, of sexual restraint, because only thereby can 'the
family be held toi^ethei- ; only thus can it become the safety
and the secui-ity of all. So there -rew up sentiments in accord-
ance with these necessary usa<,^es ; these were the customary
laws which the liouse-father administered in the daily life of
the houseliol.l. Eventually they crept into the public law
that spranj4' up lou^' afterwards. But we know that all which
was moral in any of the ancient codes was incorporated from
family usa^'e and from periliestic sentiments lonij antecedent
in their orif;in.
As Coulanoe.s tells us (p. 98;, "the state did not make the
law ; it was there in the form of family usa^-e before the
state existed ". The statutes which it wrote, it found already
established, living, and deeply rooted in familiar customs. The
ancient sense of riffjit and wrong is no work of legislators ;
"on the contrary," he says, "it took its bii-th in the family,'
and was thence imposed upon the legislator ". And again he
repeats (p. 104) that "in the early ages morality Avas ex-
clusively domestic ". But, indeed, this is the necessary origin
of all morality ; for no truly moral feeling can be imposed
upon us by external authority. As T. H. Green very truly
says {Prolvijuiuriia, p. 356), " all that a purely external
authority can impose is a command enforced by fear," and
this is in no way moral ; for as he remarks in the same place,
^' it is the essence of morality that it is a rule which a man
imposes on himself, and for another motive than the fear of
punishment " (p. 354).
It is true that this periliestic growth of moral feeling has
not been wholly destitute of some admixture of fear. No one
th
HI till
mily w.'Hild be allowed to act exactly as he pleased.
He w^ould certainly have some cause to fear th
e anii'er
the
\ I
i ! 11 !.;,
♦l
iili
ilt
III!
■ In
fl
■J
I
I
152 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
punislunotit. tl.o rotaliatioi. oF otiiers. A.i.l yet it was the
peculiar merit oF that ri^d.t con.hict, which -rew up anmn,-
the tannly, that it Foun.l its chief causes witliin a man ana
not .nitsi.h. oF him. Tiu- veneration an,! ohedience to the oM
house-tather was ,lue nnicli less to fear oF In'm than to love
and ath-ctmnate pride; honesty may be a hard lessu.. t<, ieai'U
in refrard to stratifrers, it may then re.,uire blmvs ami imprison-
ment to enForceit; hut it needs a hard heart to ch.at and
deceive a brother: the warrior may ravish all the- women
who tall into lus power, but a natural sentiment oF atf;.ctiou
and protects- pity will save his near and intimate kins-
woman from lus passions. Even when a man's chief dHi.-ht
and olory lay in coml)at, in blows, an,l bloodshed for all be
yond the family, he w,»uld in his own heart, without . xternal
compulsion, feel ashamed of the liand that struck a kinsman
he would feel little pri.Ie in the weapon that drank the blood'
of the brother who dwelt in the .same househokl. Out of the
growth of these home sympathies came morality. In the
next chapter we shall .see how utterly different i./ori-dn was
the law. It IS true that eventually each intru.led"on the
sphere ot the other. Ethic Feeling invaded that .sy.steni of
retaliation and compromises which Formed the law while law
extended its power into the limits of the Family. ' But m all
the history oF our Aryan race, true morality has been a thin.-
of slow, unnoticed and unchronicled development as the
sympathies oF the extended family deepened and widened
round the hearth.
And there were circumstances which, with the pro^a-ess of
time would give to the morality oF the Family a certahi inde-
pendence and absoluteness oF character, such as would raise the
Ideal and bid men conForm to it not by fear of aught outsi.le
but by the iiitluence of their own aspirations. Follow in'
imagination the fortunes of a successful Family whose
members are harmoniously united among themselves but
brave and terrible to all around. Sons, grandsons, an.l great-
grandsons, rallied round the wisdom oF the old house-father
have waged many a war, and broken up many a less united or
less competent Family whose conquered remnants dwell in sub-
servience. The victorious kindred withdraw from menial
I
INFLUENCK OF THE FAMILY OX OROWTH OI.' MOKALS. 153
work ; tlu.y leave the fann labour, the care of the cattle to
those \vh.. are ^rla.I to purchase life and security at the ex-
pense of free.lom. But the coiKjuerors have to keep by the
sword what they liave won by tlie sword, and thou<,di their
imiuediate nei^dibours av. siilM.uod, there ai-e other successful
tannlies beyond their ! m.(s ^^\v■ are .-.lually assertino- tlieir
nuoht, and with whom .va. is chr< ,nc. The .successful family
builds Its homes <m some lo:! <,r h .-ht.aud tliere its ramparts
rise. Clusterine. „ear for p. < eetion, the clients or serfs or helots
budd their huts, an.l far and near, the debris of unsuccessful
families, those broken by stress of drou-ht or famine, int.Tnal
discor.l, or the pressure of enemies, oather from yar to year
aroun.l the fortress; then a hamlet, a villa-e, a town may
slowly ^^nnv. So does Coulan<res describe tli.; earlv birth .if
our modern cities, and the names of nearly half tliJ towns of
Europe still recor.1 that this was their origin. Every German
town in "hero-" or " bur<r," every Enelish one in "borouf-'h" or
■'don ";^^ every Frencli town in "mont," every Italian town in
"monte," these and others, numberinj^ some thousand alto-ether
recall the time wlien the successful kindred dwelt on hi<^h
upon tlie rock, and the feeble folk ran^red their fra-ile bonis
close under its shelterin^^ sliadow.
From the class distinctions that thus arose there came the
sense of the oblio-ations attached to birth. These were not
always wholly moral ; indeed they w.'re sometimes most im-
moral m regard to the licence which the .strong demanded in
regard to the weak. But yet there wa,s a certain standard of
courtesy, of consideratene.ss ; a certain shame of meanness a
certain general magnanimity wliich tlie well-born felt a pride
in exhibiting. The poor plebeian ha.l no cliaraeter to main-
tain, no pride in handing down to his son a name set like a
.lewel in the praises of every tongue. He lived, and ate, and
then to-morrow he died. But the patrician had witliin him a
motive to aim at what to him seemed a lofty ideal : he had to
maintain the traditions of the family, and .so was actvuite.l
not only by the sentiments of the domestic sympathie,- found
fortunately under the humble.st i-oof. but also by a strong
sentiment of self-respect, which we have .seen to be one of the
surest foundations of a true morality.
ilil
I
154 THE ORIGIN AM) GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
I
The evil side of this development was the pride of birth, a
thiii^;- inevitable under the circumstances. Whether a youth
was to share the heavy toils of those around the hill, or the
privileges and •-•lory of those who dwelt upon it, would de-
pend upon the (luestions, who had been his father? had his
mother l)een Joined to the family on honourable terms { or
was she only a captive or handmaid ^ Now in any one of these
extended families the mother's kindred would soon be for-
gotten. Each generation would bring in its wives from
abroail, and the relationships of the women woulil be utterly
faded from memory in a century iifterward.s. Not so with the
father's ancestors, For each man would hold his privileges by
virtue of his strictly agnatic descent within the family. When-
ever he traced back his pedigree, so soon as ho i-eached a
female, he was carried out of the family. Not so if he traced
fr(jm male to male. A line of strictly male ancestry would lie
wholly within the family. But this is a process which pro-
<luces great narrowness. Every person has eight great-grand-
parents, but only one of these is joined to him by a strictly
agnatic line. In other words his father's father's father is only
one person. All his other great-grandparents are joined to
liim somewhere through a female. Eight generation.s back he
had 25(1 ancestors. Still only one of these is joined to him in
the strictly male line. Every other ancestor is joined to him
.somewhere by a woman, and, therefore, when he tries to pro-
long his pedigree ni that direction he is carried out of the
family into ob^^irity.
Two centuries back, therefore, one man would be singled
out from a hundred in this way to be the hero, the ancestor.
In him.self he might have been as counnouplace as some of the
nuiiivival ruffians who, by the artificial process of entailing
estates, have been thus singled out to posterity as the
in>portant individual out of the million progenitors whom
(barring the ett'ects of intermarriage) each of us must have
had some twenty generations past. But to be one */.ian
singled out of 1,000,000 is to be in a measure uni(|ue, and
rarity among ancestors, as among pijstagv stamps, gives an
astonishing value to a thing in itself ugly and unlovable. In
the case of a purely agnatic ancestor, the value of the coiinec-
vSTINCT.
of birth, a
er a youth
hill, or the
would (le-
r? had his
terms i. or
me of these
oil be for-
?^ives from
be utterly
io with the
ivileo;'es by
y. When-
reached a
:" he traced
^ would lie
.vhich pro-
eat-i>Tand-
a strictly
ler is only
joined to
IS back he
to him in
led to him
ies to pro-
)ut of the
)e sinjrled
ancestor.
me of the
entailing
/• as the
I's whom
lUst have
one man
i((ue, and
<;'ives an
able. In
e coiniec-
INFLUENCE OF THE FAMILY ON GROWTH OF MORALS. 155
tion lay in the privileo'e of beino- entitled by it to rank with
the nobles on the hill, and to lord it over the crowd, who by
reason of the vicissitudes of their family fortunes had no
traceable ^ edigree.
Pride of birth, therefore, was inevitable, and its effect
would certainly be to keep the kindred to<;ether to remote
generations. Men whose relationships io each other were
much too thin to be mutually appreciable would still be
closely bound by the fact that they could maintain their
privileges in tracing descent from the same eponymous hero.
Thus the family extended out hito the gens, the maeg, the
clan : it swelled fnjm fifty or sixty to 500 or 000, who with
their dependants made solid bodies of some thousands
of persons Every man who claimed this glorious ancestry,
though made more free from outward restraint, became less
free from an inner control. The sei-f was unfrei' in the sense
that he had to obey or sutler ; but he might l)e as cowardly as
he pleased, he might weep or snivel, he might cringe and fawn,
he might beg his life in prostrate fear: he might, where he
could with impunity, show himself greedy ami lying.
But the num with a name, a kindred, an ancestry, was
bound by restrictions acting from within, and every language
of Europe bears testimony to the moral ideal thus begotten.
\A hen a " noble " act is spoken of, it is sometlung such as was
expected of a man sprung from a well-known i-ace ; when we
talk of a 'villainous" deed, we u.se a word that implies the
sort of thing properly belonging to the servile crowd. With us
the word "gentleman" originally implied only a man sprung
from a well-known family : ])ut it involves now-a-days every
idea of honourableness and right feeling. Such words as
kiiul, (imtle, liberal, i/enerous, honest and a crowd of others
show us by their lerivation what were the qualities expected
of the man who had the traditions of kin, or gens, or genus
to maintain.
Hence, along with umch that was odious, an<l which time
is therefoi'e desti-oying, there was in the institution of
n()i,ility a great deal which has foi-med tin' germ of a lofty
nioral ideal ; of that seuse of duty which springs from no fear
of punishment, but from loyalty to all which is expected of
•■ ' r! i
IP?"
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156 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL I^TSTINCT.
a man, not only hy liis kinsmen Init hy himnelf. Nohility
with ns is a f^pnrious sort of thinu- : it may be l)estowe(l by
sovorci^rii or political party; or it may be won by the merit
of the individual as a sort of pewter liado-e on a silver vase; but
with our forefathers it was innate and inichanoeable. The base-
born man could no more be made noble than ho could be made
a woman. But to orow up from childhood with the sense of
a ,i,dorious l)irthriuht, while it is apt to make a man arro<fant
and hau>;hty, oives him a bearnin-, a dio-iiity, a contemp't of
meanness ; it ^-ives him an easy stateliness, an unolitrusive
self-respect -vhich we expect to mark ott' the professor's son
from the butcher I)oy : the well-bred colonel from the newly
recruited farm labourer. It is to be remembered, of course,
that all this is not the funda)iiental morality: that the
butcher boy may be an honester lad than tlie professor's son.
But the two types, that of simple worth and that of noble
bearino^, are not in the least inconsistent: and we may
accurately say that the perfect man occurs where these two
blend: wherein, to the kindliness, yood-heartedness and
simple honesty of the one, there are adde.l the couraye, liigh
spirit, courtesy and j,rrace of the other.
Both types were engendered within the family: the
former in the natural or extended family by the development
of all those sympathies between kinsmen ^^ liich kept them a
united and harmonious and therefore coru^uerin^r band: tlie
latter were developed in that still more extended family, the
Kens or clan, by reason of the r,sy./v7 <((> corps, the meii'iber's
pride, tlie sense of the oblination of nobility which arose
when the indivichial was able, as a mere matter of birth, to
ansert a superiority, and to share in present privilej,'t:'s and in
the memory of bygone ^'lories.
fSTINCT.
Nobility
stowed by
the merit
V vase : but
The base-
Itl be made
le sense of
ri aiTo^faiit
ntenipt of
iiobtnisive
3ssor's SOI}
tlie newly
of course,
that the
ssor's son.
'j of noble
we may
these two
ness and
ra<;e, hi^di
uiily: the
.'elopment
pt them a
band ; the
luiily, the
member's
ich arost!
birth, to
Vs and in
157
CHAPTER XX. .
THE GROWTH OP LAW.
IvniviDUAL Responsiiuuty Extended xo FAiiTnEii
THA\ THE Family.
The member of a family had onlj^ the one sort of responsibility,
that which re^-arded the family. He had as an inilividual no
responsibilities whatsoever to those outside the family. In
all external relations, it was for tiie whole family to treat
with another family as a wliole, i^'enerally by the voic(! of the
house-fatlKH- Suppose that in thost; prinntive days of our
Aryan race, a man met another and, after cluillen^in;;- him to
fi<4-ht, slew him, there could be no sort of wron<; in the act.
But the family of the nuui who had been slain had suH'ered an
injury. The kinsmen would arm themselves for retaliation.
The slayer meantime would be in refujr amonjf his kindred.
Thereupon one of three thing's might nappeii. The family
nuo'ht applaud his courajfe, and commend his deed : in that
case its spearmen must make them ready for the fi{;ht. Or
])erhaps the family disapproves his (UhmI, yet pi-epartis to
defend him; whereupon he is responsiijle to it for all the
woes and labours that ensue; he hears ibundantly of his
folly, and ho tastes all the bitterness of their resentment, l)ut
liis responsibility is wholly to them. So lonj;' as they are
willing and able to defend him he fears no others. In the
third case the man whose hot blood, \vdio,se lusts or avarice
fre(|uently embroiled his family, might be expelhid ; but just
as the soldier is, for the blood he sheds, responsible oidy to his
own countrymen, but in respect of the enemy knows nothing
of res{)onsibility, so the ancient individual was responsible to
those of his own kindred, but to no otiier.
(•'P
%
I
'M; 1
I
!i
i)
I
If 1
i
ill
(
^f/'
ir)H THl.: OKIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
Ill course of time, however, when families found that
retaliation meant feud and dama^re with con.stant watchful-
ness and anxiety on both sides for weary months, they j^rew
more wary of enterin^r i„to .luarrels. When a wron^/was
m:; 'ted tlie injured uimily marched out for ven^reance, the
family of the injurer stood to its arms, but if both were really
somewhat reluctant to %h., negotiations ensued. These
mif^-ht take the; form of a demand from one siile that the
other should iiand over the evil-doer iov .leath. an.l this was
sometimes, thoug-h rarely, af,a-eed to. More |,^enerally his
family ottered a, certain composition, and the avengers, angry
yet cautious, would not be disinclined to suffer their wratTi t(i
be mollified : for with Shylock they lia.l learnt that—
A 1)01111(1 of inim's tlesli taken from ,i man
Ik not so estinial»l(>, pmtifal.N. niMtlior,
As ficsli of muttons, beefs, or floats,
and, though they haggled perhaps over the amount that
would be sufficient to smooth away their vengeance, they
took the cattle and withdrew.
In all such negotiations, the individual neve,- appeare.l
'Hie whole family was liable, it paid tlie compensation out of
Its common property, and no special share of this indemnity
went to wi.low or children of the .lead man, nor even to the
individual if he luul been only maimed or otherwise injured
The whole of one family paid, and the whole of the' other
received. This is primitive Justice, for as the sutferer could have
gained nothing l)y his own indivi.lual spear, as the com-
pensatum had been won by the sp,.ars of all, among all must
it be divided.
In these primitive families it is above everything necessary
that all should stand by one another. Paris may be reco<-
nised by his fellow-Trojans as an evil-doer, but they protect
hun, and Hght for him all the same. For on all but the
lughe.st ethical grades it is the part of the staunchest go.jd-
iellowship to stick by a member whether he be rhdit oi-
wrong. Amcmg themselves they may .liscuss the nmtter •
but to outsiders they show a Holi,l front, and this is an un-
doubted means of strength. If the family as a whole propose
NTSTINCT.
'oiind that
' watchful-
th.<^y grew
.vrong was
foance, the
vere really
1. These
-' chat the
(1 this was
erally jiis
■rs, an<,ay,
• wrath to
•unt that
nee, they
ippeart'd.
on out of
ideninity
n to the
injured,
he other
»iild have
he Com-
al i must
ecessary
e reco<f-
' prtitect.
hut the
st good-
•iyht or
iiuitter ;
an uu-
propose
i
Tino aaowTH op la)
to hand over the delinquent to the enemy, it i
that his fatlujr or his brothers or hi^
15i)
s vei-y likely
affection bein<f too stronir f'oi' th
and so the household becomes torn with facti
early Aryan peoples, therefore, the fainily in all cl
as a corporate whole, and the individual
sons may take his part,
le primitive sense of justice,
o!i. In all these
ling's actcil
was unknown as a
responsible party. And long after the progress of society
had largely ])roken down the family organisation, the old
belief prevailed that all a maji's kinsmen must share in the
penalty of his misdeed, an<l e.jually share in the compensa-
tion tendered for an injury received by him. Kemble in his
Saxon.^ in Emfland (i., 285), sliows that the Angles, jusfc
before their emigration, still h(;ld the whole maegbuU or
kindred responsible for the evil done by any of its members
while those thus responsible on the one hand were entitled'
on the other to share among them the compensation paid fen-
his murder or mutilation, or for any wrong done to his wife
or daughter, or any injury whatsoev(>r, that he might suffer
As this chapter proceeds it will provide abundance of ex-
amples of the same spirit.
If, therefore, we a:-e to realise the manner of growth of
public law. we must forget the responsibility of the indi-
vidual, so deeply rooted in our modern feeliiig. We must
think-of the family as th.. unit: w,; must imagi.u! how before
fighting, or after fighting, the belligerent groups mad,, treaties
between themseh-es : how thes.' treaties became prece<lents
and how a system of settled compensations called by the
Teutons wergilds, Ijut found with varying nanuvs among every
Aryan pisople, grew up in conse.iuence. In these th.Te was
no faintest pretence of moral feeling any mor.. Uian last
century there was in the n.igotiations of two rival nations
Yet beyon.l the slightest doubt they were the origin of all
that we know as law.
xn order that th(> course of progress may be the more
easily followed I shall divide th.. whole storv into tw(«lve
stages, of which the Hrst five will be related in this cliapter
fin.l tfie remainder in the next. These are verv far fron»
l)eing as sharply divi.led as this arrangement woul.l suggest:
the table is not chronological, but yet it may give a very
m
I
11
'.'•I
l
I:
\
h 1
1 .'
:i
160
THE OKKifN AND GROWTH OF THK yvntAl. IXSTINCT.
general idea of the sort of se.ju uce Kut obtained For
instance, it is not till the eleventh stn^e thai T deal with the
intrusion of mo.ai ideals on tl.o legal do.uain, because not till
then did the proi... becom.. sb-ou^dy marke.l ; but from the
fourth stage, or even earlier, a steady tho.ndi extreme! v siov.
infdtration ot ethica! feeling <Vom perih^stic usat-e ]>;cou,es
apparent. '
Stage T. R.italiation .md chronic feud.
^t«..e i i Feu.ls avoide.l by payment of compensation
"^-- J^f ,^;^'nP^"n'i«es facilitated by the ai.l of arbitration.
^..tHg.. t\ . The function of arbitrating passes by slow <le<rrees
mto the hands of some definite i.rnily or influc^ntial
leader, who, however, is supposed to follow in his de-
cisions the precedents of older times.
Stage Y The traditionary maxims and precedents are reduced
to lormal codes, whether written or oral.
Stage VI. As the integration of society proceeds, the central
power (or kin^r) exercises some compubnon in compro-
misino. lends by the application of the ancient maxims,
btage MI. Ihe kmo- compels the family of the injurer to
pay not only the customary weig-ild to the injured family
but also the freduin or fine claimed by himself as the'
penalty for provoking a breach of the peace
Stage VIII. Wealth increasing, while the old scales of com-
pensation remain sacred, the wergild becomes relatively
nnimportant, but the fredum, being less fixed by old
custom, is augmente.l till at length it grows out of all
proportion to the wergild. Hence the penalty ceases to
be tor the injury ,lone, but is now imposed for the
breaking of the " King's Peace ".
Stage IX. Growing complication of indus.
destroys the ancient family unions ; tb
now liocomes the local fellowshi'- th.
sami M.iudred or the same paris
Law^ :.ses to bear the aspect of 'i,hatnvy pn.eess (,r
one family against another. It a, ;.■ fVom the action
ot tiie central authority in maintatnii. .der but still
ohierty follows the lines of old custom.
• '' organisation
'iai molecule
who live ill the
the new unit.
'■^'
IXSTINCT,
ainoil. For
eal with the
lau.se not till
)ut from the
;reiiiuly ^Jov,.
i.U'e hecoiues
tion.
I'hitration.
low deffree.s
influential
■ in his de-
are reduced
the central
in couipro-
niaxiuiH.
injurer to
red family,
<elf as the
3.S of corn-
relatively
ed hy old
out of all
' ceases to
i foi" the
:;nnisation
molecule
ive in the
>ew unit.
process of
he action
hut stil!
THK GROWTH OF LAW.
161
Stao-e X. As the central authority asserts itself, it has an
area of mcreasing width over which its jurisdiction ex-
tends. Hence arises delegated authority; so also courts
of justice.
Stage XI. Equity appears. Law has so far heen unconcerned
with the wrongfulness of conduct. Its business has been
only with mjuriousness of conduct. It has recogniseil
tiie right of a man to retaliate an injury, but it has
rendered that retaliation systematic and orderly, so as to
put an end to reprisals and consequent feuds. But bv
degrees the lessons of perihestic usage, which have be-
come part of the daily life of the people, begin to tinge
the laws. Public statutes thus assume e moral cast. But
this -levelopment is still very imperfect. No legal code
ever yet put m practice has embodied more than a part
of tlie current moral feeling.
Stage XII. The law adds to its repressive function some care
for the reformation of the delinquent. The b«-otherhood
of a I men in the community tends to become an axiom
in place of the old feeling that all outside of a man's
family are his natural enemies.
I.— Retaliation and Feud.
In the first stage there was no check to a man's action
save he fear of retaliation. On the other hand, retaliation
was absolutely necessary. The man who will surter another
to strike him, wound him, rob him without the least resent-
ment ,s either too good or too mean-spirited to exist in
primitive .ociety. Most assiu-edly he would be crushed out.
He who could see his wife outraged and his chiMren slain
without feeling his blood boil would leave but small posterity
Only such natural resentment as will make the malicious
pause ere injuring can possibly render life tolerable in the
early phases of communities. This is the natural .system still
found among all savages. Of the North American Indians
.Schoolcraft says (i., 207): "I have never known any other
punishment inflicted than personal satisfaction ". "All ortences
i W'<
r :i:.
I i
. t
i v
1
!
'
!
1
M
li
16'2 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THK MORAL INSTINCT.
committed against any member of a family are aven<,re(l by
the family" (ii., 181). "Every man acts for himsJf and
avenges liis own injuries according to his own judgment."
"All offences are punished by the aggrieved party."
Similarly, of the Eskimo, Hall tells us (ii., 317): "If a
murder is committed the nearest relative kills the murderer".
Of the Guiana tribes Brett tells us (p. 104) : " When any crime
such as murder was committed, they followed strictly the law
of retaliation ". Edwards says of the Caribs : " Retaliation
was tlieir only law ". And Wallace asserts of the Brazilian
tribes (Amazonn, p. 347) : " They have little law of any kind ;
what they have is of strict retaliation ". Fitzroy gives the same
sort of testimony for the Patagonians, and Thompson for the
Araucanians. A huge list might be made out, but tlie fact
is too well known to be contested. When missionaries
and other visitors seem to see a high moral sense in savages,
it is often only an, apprehension, grown instinctive, of the
kind of conduct that will evoke retaliation.
So also it is in history. Far back in the dim dawn of
every race we reach the time when retaliation was the only
law. Koenigswiirter, in an interesting chapter of iiis Bevel oppc-
ment de la Soclete Humaine (part ii., chap, i.), shows that
this system alone prevailed among early Greeks and Romans,
among Jews of the times long anterior to Moses : among
Arabs and the wandering tribes of Asia. Persians and Slavs
and Teutons and Celts, Russians, Poles, Hungarians.Bohemians,
Moravians, Servia'is, all are in that chapter shown to have
recognised no form of redress save that which each man, oi-
rather each family, could win with the right hand. In those
days it would have seemed absurd to tell a man he had no
right to kill another who had sti-uck him or robbed him or
insulted his wife. Among the ruder portions of our own
pojwiation it still seems a mean thing to appeal to the police:
the manly course is to tight out a ([uarrel on the spot. So,
too, a couple of centuries ago, old Napier expressed the funda-
mtintal feeling (jf the Highland clans that no laws coulil do
away with a Uian's natural claim for personal revenge. " All
is dishonour," he exclaimed, " where there is not eye for eye,
and tooth for tooth."
INSTINCT.
aveiij,'e(l by
himself and
1 judgiiient."
r/'
317): "If a
B innrderL'i'".
en any crime
ictly tlu! law
" Retaliation
he Brazilian
A' an}' kiml ;
ves the same
pson for the
but the fact
missionaries
i in savayes,
itive, of the
im dawn of
as the only
) l)evc/()/)j)i'-
•shows that
tid Romans,
ses : amono-
s and Slavs
-Boliemians,
vvn to have
:ich man, or
1. In those
1 he had no
obed him or
)i our own
i the police ;
( spot So,
the funda-
^s could do
'nj^'e. " All
■ye tor eye,
i
THE (inoWTH OF LAW.
II- — Compensation.
163
Somewhere about the level of the higher savaf,res, or n.ore
genera y of the lower barbarians, the increase of" seUled lii^
and the possession of huts and crops liable to destruction
m war, produce a ..-eater appreciation of the advanta/.fs o"
t on. Accordmg to Morgan (League of ikr Iro.juois, p. 331 )
f an Iroquois committe.l a nnn-der, a feud was at one estab-
kshed between the two families, unless, as was son.etin.es
clo..e, he relatives of the mur.lerer refused to stand by bin. •
or, unless, as was far n.ore often the case, they agreed to
make a payment m wampum or other property to tlfe fan.ily
of the n.ur.lered man. Galton tells us that among the
Damaras a murder will con.mence a feu.l unless the family
of the murderer pays two oxen to that of the person slain.
Of the Maons Thon.so,. says (i., ] 23) : " Revenge was o,... of
aclnelsfjrst duties: an insulted New Zealander would rush
to his tribe and relate the h.Jnry he ha.l suffered; the.
payment were refused, war might ensue. Land and wome
were the cine causes of strife. They were cautious of rus li l-
mto wars and n. eve,y dispute me.liations were gla.Uy ac^
epted u..t, blood was actually shed. Every oS;.i.c/ In t
murder had some pecuniary e.piivalent "
"JZZ^.T^ ""' '': Patagonians (or Araucanians)
put to ueath the e.iemie.s of a slain pe.-son, unless tl.ev a-ree
pay a heavy ransom" (p. 179), a,.d among all he mo e
primitive negro races, with no exceptions that I hJ u f 1
nun-der can be atoned for with a sufficie n nil ; H T'
says that amo..g the Dyaks the ord;::!;^ ;^1,^:: ^
Z^^n ^TT'"'''''''''''' '"• ''''■" -•■^t---y tine to
...ore v^ ■ ;• T '" Wieved. Some barbaria . .-aces
01 e .na.c ive or less avaricious than others, are with .relt^:
ftculty induce.1 to forego the blood penalty for a pav-iei
but there is none, so far as J know ' • • • ■ P^^"''^"^-
or
ess e;
No doubt '^'hen
■ ' ".^ii ll; in H
^tomary to accept compensation an.l avoid
Ins wife slaughtered cruelly, h
a man has lost a fa ,'ourite
e m
» it is not mon
a feud.
«on, or has seen
I'll
Hi '
ay soii, imes refuse utterly
i <kM'
I I
1C4 THE OniOIX AXD GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
in the rap of liis ^a-ief to take anything, less than the life of
th
le nmrderer. But if tho 1.+*
., ^. , J« protected by his people,
tlie sufferer can do tx ...aij,. unless witi, the help of his kins-
men and these are very likely to be reluctant to undero-o all the
trouble, the loss, and the hazards of war. They will compel
hini to accept the compensation, more especially as all will
share in the price that is to be paid.
History tells us that this was the practice of all races as
they passed through their early barbaric phases. Among
the Greeks, the original meaning of -^ocv^, as of poena among
the Romans, was. in the words of Lid.lell and Scott, "a ransom
pai. or the shed.ling of blood". Other names in Greece for this
well-known compensation were Xvrpo, and v^o^Svca. Among
the Germans it wa. called tvergild, among the A^glo-Saxons
were, among the Scandinavians bote. Koenigswarter (p 84)
pn-es the analogous terms among Celts, Russians, Servians,
Cu-cassians, and Arabs. These payments were always origni'
ally n.ade with property, in Europe generally with cattle.
In early Greece it was always so, though in Homer^s <lescrip.
tion of the sculpture on the shield of Achilles the payment is
certainly m gold (///a./ xviii., 497) ; probably there was
then a time of fran.siti. i.
Ami in the market-pla.-e were mot tiie foik to hear the strife
Of men that wrangled for the priee of a man's murdered life •
And lone. M„. people cheered them on, n .aeh its favour won
1.11 thun.Ior.throate.1 herald, bade their i,abblement be done.
Lo, on the polished stones tluMv sat, within the sacred ring,
Ihe gnu-e ol.l men, who b,„ ■ m hand those wands that heralds
tmon"lE"i^''-'''' '^" I'^v of gold that hi. should be
Among these twain .c the truth should speak mos, n.an-
Yet we know that cattle were, in the earlier times of the
Creeks, alone used for such compositions, and even in the
laws of Draco, as mentioned by Pollux (OnomaMinm ix 61)
payments for crimes are estimated in cattle. Tacitus .Germ '
12) states that the Germans compound^ for all crimes"
inerading homicide, with a payment of oxen or horses'
Many centuries later the laws of the Ripuarians provi.led
1
INSTINCT.
an the life of
•y his people,
) of his kins-
ti(Ier<i;oall the
■ will compel
y as all will
f all races as
les. Among
^oena amontr
it, "a ransom
reece for this
via. Among
nglo-Saxons
i'irter (p. 84)
IS, Servians,
wavs oriiTin-
with cattle,
er's (lescrip-
payment is
thore was
le strife
red life;
:)ur won,
1)0 doiii".
1 ring,
tliat heralds
lid he
most man-
imes of the
ven in the
•on,\x., 61),
tus yOerm.,
all crimes,
or horses.
- provided
I
THE GROWTH OF LAW.
165
that while the murder of a Frank
was to be atoned tor with
th
lan wi
the payment of 200 shillings, that of a Burginid
160 shillings, and of a Roman with 100 shillings, yet if the
nnn-derei- chose to pay in cattle, each ox was to })e valued at
two shillijigs, each cow at one shilling (Law ;}6, Lindenhrog's
collection.)
After it ha. I happened for some generations that feuds
were customarily avoid( . or healed hy payment of compen-
sation, the amount thus to be paid became largely regulated
by precedent. For man is most emphatically a creature of
imitation. If a workman does for me a piece of work such as
he has never done before, when I come to pay him he wants
to know what I have been accustomed to pay to others: or
perhaps hi; makes his (nvn in(|uiries from those more used to
the work to discover what is the regular rate. If a new
institution is to be founded in a city, a natural and wise in-
stinct sets people to gather information as to all previous
institutions of similar nature in other cities. So it must have
ha oened that when negotiations began as to compensation
i' me injury, the main in(iuiry would turn on the question
as to what had been done of old. A chain of precedents
handed down from age to age, would gather a venerable
power wherein is to be found the first great strength of public
law.
III. — Arritration.
lu such a case the .settlement of disputes must have been
left priiu ipally in the hands of the elders of each family, those
who knew best the custom of old times. Homer's picture,
already (juoted, carries us a step farther and shows not only
the elders of the contending families, but those of several
families called together, whose united experience might give
to the decision a deepr-r respect Round them are gathered
the people to hear the wis.lom of the past, to lend the weight
of their influence and compel the losing side to accept the
ju.lgment and refrain from troubling the land witb strife.
Tlius in Athens, even at a lute date, as we read in Aristotle's
recently recovered account of its constitution, disputes were
\'V;\
: k.
. mi
166 THK ORIGIN AND
;: I
y
\- I
»i||ii
GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
.settk
• lecis;
l>y arbitivitors of at least .sixty years of
age. If their
■satiwtit
1 . ,. " • ""^ .wcim-i wtt.s eimed. r)ut it thu
case m, before a court „f 201 citizenn for ,„i„„,. ,„»„„„, ^ut
(tst :;;:;;;;;:;,-; '- ""-" '- '""■*""« ' • ™p.-t i^:
,„lft"',""" "'° "'"'"" '""'■• »'* P™''™'- Cheny toll., „.,
,ch „,e„„>.. Tho «r,st stop i„ «,„ g,,,„«, „,■ ,„t ,^;, ^^
« t ol cxpiataK a crane by u,o„ey an.l »„ „f I,„yi„„ „„•„,„
UKulato ,u,j- „„cl, luattw, tlio price was l>y a-reement be
twee,, the famiiie,; if a ,li,pute af„,c a, to tW« S t e'
in ;r:™:,r:":Abr;:ir'"''''''°''' "- '■""■« '--■•""^ --'
level ot m„M . a„.l upper barbarism, and »o,„etin,ea era, a
Se 'Ic "V r '" "," '"" '"'' °'"y *»' "f ">« ^Merswho
«..» »y» en, ,,een„ to be cru,l,e,l un.ler the a.ttoc-acv ol a
justice, fhouffh an AKa„,e,m,o„ be the kin.r of men vet the
people are tenacious of old custom., in the seUlcuT, of hei
Asputes, and the elde,-s are still the true arbltrato.s Pen- "
fe A ,d,a,,s eve,-ybody has the .-ight to d„ himself jJS
tor tooth But every ta.u.ly is under it, white-beard " and
the e ,s always "some attempt made to mediate betw en ccT
te.K ...,, ,a,n,|,e , .,„„,e tribes showin, ..„ little energy" „o.
eW r*^':;Tjr''v''; ''"""'^ '",»■"-"» ^ «« aecl'lL of The
I <,?' , '■ °' "" '""»' ''" •»'■«*■"' to i-emember a. Sir
J mes Stephen warn, us (HU .,/ ari„iual /.„„, ii O) tit
tl« ob.,ect Ol the law.n,„ker was rather to r;concne 1,:.
(
INSTINCT.
ge. If their
(1, but if the
!nt, then the
matters, but
l)oflie.s were
10 folk-moot,
1 support it.
ly tells UH,
; the whole
|ueiicie.s of
vv was the
m\^ off the
' of law to
jeiuent be-
price, the
»y couinion
illy versed
111(1 on the
es even a
Itlers, who
out of the
e nei,n-oes,
rac}' of a
eature of
'1, yet the
t of their
Pen-in,
11 among
If justice
.nd tooth
rd," antl
een con-
in com-
n of the
r, as Sir
)0), that
cile an-
THK OUOWTH OK LAW,
167
<
tag(jnists upon established terms than to p\it down crimes l)y
the establishment of a system of criminal law".
A second thing to be remembereil is, as already shown,
that the criminal responsil)ility was not personal. It belonged
to the whole family. By the Salic law rtit. (i:^), a man could
by a public announcement free himself from all responsibility
for damages iiiHicted by any of the rest of the family, but
this was a late ilevehjpnient, and lie who took this e.\treme
step was expressly shut oH" from the family, and probably lost
all his claim to the protection of the family. Vet in the course
of progress, family associations ceased to have this exclusive
control, and in general it is a tolerably sure sign of the first
stage of civilisation when a deliiKiuent himself, and not his
wli(jle family, hegins to be held responsible for an injury.
For it will easily be seen that when crime is atoned for by a
payment it is not until the development of individual property
that the possibility of individual responsibility can arise. The
Romans had barely reached this stage in the first century of
their history as a people ; though, as we shall shortly see, the
transition becomes apparent in the Twelve Tables. Among
the Jews as we perceive them in the Pentateuch, the transition
is taking place. Vengeance was still exacted by the family,
and- in the earlier times it was exacted from all members of
the family of the injurer. In Deuteronomy xxiv., a passage
now understood to be of comparatively late date, we read that
" the fathers shall not be put to death for the children, neither
shall the children be put to death for their fathers ; every man
shall be put to death for his own sin ". Yet we see by the
fate of Achau (Josh. vii. 24) how this was at variance with
the okler practice.
In the early Hebrew law (Num. xxxv. 19), the right
of a nmn to exact vengeance by liis own weapon is clearly
recognised ; but the third stage of arbitrating as to compensa-
tion has already arisen. If the avenger of blood catches the
slayer of a man, even though the death has been accidental, he
has the right to kill him. But to lessen the disorders thence
arising there are appointed " cities of refuge " to which the
man-slayer may iiee, " that he die not until he standeth be-
fore the congregation in judgment ". Then come rules for
i
\i t
<■
I I
1 1
V
168 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
clistin^nxishin. between niai.slau^diter and nuirder. If the
uuler, the cu pnt was handed over to the avenger, who
thereupon slew hnn with his own han.ls. But if thc^ v .rdict
wj. c.e oi n.a,.!au,hter, the accused was warned t;:^
withn. the city of refu<,e. If he M-as ever caught outside of it
by any reh.t.ve of the shun nuu, the deepest Vengeance ni I
be taken without the smallest ^'uilt. "
the custom of reven«-in. hloo.lshed, though in fact pra tised
or a considerable period after Moses, w^s very .arl c'on
^nned bythe newer spirit, and therefore was Abolished ,
vengeance for a money con.pen.sation seen.s to have in lar-e
ineasure died out before the time of Moses. For in his 1 "rs!
ation It appeared in force only when a man was .-ored^o
S J TY]r\ "• ''''''-'' '' P^^^"-^ woman^vas i^!
juied, or when bodily hurt arose out of a .juarrel. In such
case,s a man "may ransom his life" by a payment. Ew
tells us, however, that "in later times compisation for b
Junes was undoubtedly made mostly in money "
responsibility of the family to the sole resi.onsibility of the
culprit was of a late date; certainly not^.elore the six^
century o our era. We see the transition in the laws of the
^ .«iffo l,s book V,., tit. 1, law 8), wherein it seemed necessary to
formal ly sta e that "all accusations are to fall on the do oi
the evil deed. Let not father for son, nor son for father no
bivjUier for bn>ther fear any accusation, but he alone sha'l^
mdicted as culpable who shall have committed the fault"
In n.any of the Teutonic races, however, a united family t-
«poi.ibdity seems to have continued till the twelfth centui.;
A thud thm^. that ,s to be always most carefully re-
.nembered is that we are here concerned only w the
growth o public law, as the outcome of aphestic usal. t
the meantnne penhestic usa,.- is workin,. out its ovv.: bei..
aw. ten tliat only arbitrates between family and family For
instance, infanticide is unmentioned in the early law, for if"
I. .
-' in larg-e
his Ico-i.s-
169
lo is to l)e the
TilE GROWTH OF LAW.
man cliooses to puo his own child to death, wl
avenger { Or if a man kills a wife wliom he has bouj^ht and
paid for, who has the ri^-ht to interfere save only those tliat
Hve around the family hearth ? These thinos are not matters
for law ; tliey are matters for the pressure of private opinion
which is ever Ijusy within the family, turninjr the fireside
maxims into moral sentiments. And these, though less pal-
pable, are far more co<>:ent tluui any law. Amon^' (jurselves
what law forbids a man to tell an indecent story in a draw-
mtr-room i yet without any enactment, civil or relinions, i)rivate
feelin-;- will soon teach a delin.|ucnt to behave himself l)etter.
Only by carefully rem-mbei'ino' this distinction can we
understand the vagaries of the early codes. The laws of the
Alemanni, in tlieii' 4!tth clause, provide that a heavy com-
pensation shall be paid for the murder of a man ; but in the
■iOth clause it is stated that "if a man murders either father,
brother, uncle, nephew, cousin, mother or sister, he is to do
penance as the Clmrch directs". Why so (Htierent the treat-
ment in tlu« two cases ^ Because the former rej-'ulation sprin<,fs
froTu usage between the families while the latt.'r applies to
cases that used to be provided for within the family, but as
the old associations ar- passing away mwler new industrial
conditions, the ancient method of sutiering the family to deal
with family attairs has lieconu; impossible, and in the fervour
of his new conversion tiie barbarian hands ov(a- to the Church
some part of the perihestic domain of true morals.
IV. — SovEREK^.x Power.
Wlien, in course of social integration, a numerous people
has become so solidly united as to place an army of some
thousands of men in the Held, the chief wlio has continuous
couiinand of that army nuist acipiire moi'e or less of regal
power, but in tlie early stages of s>u'h authority, kings uin'er
attemi)t to altei- the laws. Notliing is further from the
thoughts of such a leader than tn po.se .hh jv law-u-iver. As
Maine tells us (/tJarly Laiv, p. 170^ the Hrst judicial
mHuence of the king was only that of usiuj; his militaiy
ir
m
. I ! IISI
r
j i
I. ,
'I' '
170 THK onuUK AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL IJ^STINCT.
power to enibrce .lecisions nui.le i„ accor.lance with cuHto.n
I" very pnnntive time, he .ioes not even nuike tlie .leci.ions
himse h Very generally it happens that when a war is over
o all specal authority, each village an.l each clan re-
tun ung- c, the numagement of its ow.i affairs. But in war
me the k.ng wouM be responsible for harn.ony an-l or.ler in
he army. Hravvis and disputes would con.e before him for
nil .tiat.on, and l„s popularity and ascendency would depend
2? f "^^'f ;^t,sfacti<,n he gave in applying old customs to
« ose of then- clnefs to be leaders who were best skilled
m sett. ng disputes (,,m««^, controversias ; Bell. Gall vi
r. .,• 1 i .' "'''"'"'^ ''''•^"' ''''^'^' "" '^"tocratic powe,-. ' In
the held he ,s controlle.l by his council of chiefs, and if he
«its :n judgment to .lecide disputes, the gray-beards give their
Nersuons of the ancient precedents that stand for law
>ay more. If a chief has under his stan.lard, peonle of
d H.rent d^tncts and divergent usages, he is careful to judge
eacl a er its own manner. Mommsen tells us that in anciett
Komc the kings administered to each of the constituent races
ts own customs, whether Latin, Sabine, Gabine or Alban
hven great conquerors have always failed to make any perma-
nent impression unless they did as the English do fn India
Hdmmister not their own notions of justice, imt those which are'
deei^y engramed in the prejudices of the subjugated lan.l.
took t into his head to make a new system of laws. In the
'"i<l<lle ages,_also, a legislation merely sprung from the will of
a law-giver ,s scarcely to be traced anywhere." It is wholly
true as toulanges tells us (p. 220), that " legislators ,lid not
exis among the ancients; nor did laws spring from the votes
of the people. In early days the laws present themselves as
something even then venerable an.l unchangeable "
^^hen a Willian. the Con.,ueror lan.ls in England we are
apt to think that he imposes his will upon the people. Hut a
reasonable investigatioi. shows that he ma.le small change in
;;' '^"^" ;'• ;'-,^'»'-'^'T. Kngland was then under at^..ast
th.ee, probal>ly hve. d.sth.ct bodies of custom which had the
NSTINCT.
ith custom.
le ileci.sions
rvar i,s over,
the leader
jh clan re-
But in war
1(1 order in
re him for
idd depend
customs to
.ns selected
est skilled
Gall., vi.,
'Ower. In
•'U\t\ it' he
^•ive their
people of
1 to jtidye
in ancient
iient races
or Alhan.
ly perma-
in India,
which are
ted land.
;nt world
In the
le will of
H wholly
* did not
the votes
selves as
1 we are
. But a
ian^'(> in
at least
hud tho
THE GROWTH OK LAW.
force of law in ditierent parts. William left each to be
adnunistered in its own \,-ay, and whatsoever char.f'-es lie
niti'nduced were not the expression of his own autocratic will,
but concessions to the needs and prejudices of his con(iuerin<.-
host. When Henry I. came to his father's throne, with what
solicitude did he conform his administration to the customs of
the various peoples under his sway : Herw-y 11, was al)Ie to
<lo much in the way of systematic law, because thei-e was a
<,n-owinu' tendency foi- these customs to appro.ximate, but John
utterly failed when he strove by use of mercenary forces to
impose his will on a nation. His son was wisei-, but the
following kino-, Edward I., securely built the Planta-enet
power by leyislatino- loyally aecordinn- to the usa<.-es an.ffeel-
inos of his time. Follow all the rein-ns of the khi<;-s of Eno'.
Ian<l, and s.,-e how little their personal wishes atiecte.l the
laws ,if the land. Tho.se who, like the Tudors, .seemed most
autocratic, were precisely those who most instinctively realised
the public feelinu-. They knew how far to o-o, aiid how to
draw Ijack at the least sion of alienation, (iardinei' tells us
{Htuih-nVH Hist, of H„ul<ind, p. 8«5), tliat no kin- ever felt
more keenly the need of popularity than the appaivntly auto-
cratic Henry \'III.
The old maxim of sycophant jurists that "whatsoever
pleases the king- has the force of law " was a meic piece of
folly, as any kino- could have found out. vlio should hav,;
issued a law that men were to marry their j^rand mothers.
The area (jver which the prince's will was op.n-ativi" was
ne\-er mor.- than a mere frino-e upon the jjreat bodv oi' law
settled by custom. At Rome most of the emperors were wise
enouji'h, like Julian, to acknowledge their power to be entirely
subject to the law: some made a vain parade of being-
superior to it, but none ever invented the law. The great juris't
emperors, like Justiiu'an, only collected and methodised the
huge body of custom that had grown up in the nuiltifarious
relations of a civilised people through many generations,
iVIauie has shown us {Anclnit Law, p. :}!>5) h(')w this vicious
tiction that the sovereign is the fount of the h\\% though so
evident a falsehood, originated in the latter d.
1 (
Mucl
I more ti'ue is the view ex
lys oi IJome
pressed by l'rofes.soi Cherry
f ■■ ■
172 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
!Sf"1'"^/""' ^- '^' '^''"' ^'"'' ^^'«^^'' '-*^- lawyers or
tamed what was the prevailing custom lor settling' the par-
ticular class of cases under consi.leration. And I hive
already nu-ntione. 1 that these tribunals very ^-eneraliy ^ave to
customs. Ihe Lno.|an,l which Edward the Confessor ruled
over w^n. .«,.., parts subject to Dane law. Wesse^^I:
cu torn, e ery bo.ouo-h ,„,! ,,,„,,, ,,,. ^^-^
p r' ^"V' "^'f;!."" ^— -^ - the laws of the
: : ■""' "^ ^''^^^-l-^^^y-"*' l^a-l at least four -reat
^tn: r ,7""'"^-^^'^ -"'titude of nnnor customary
^J. stems. As .AIontes(ju,eu says uxxviii., 37), " everv town
b-ou,., or viUa^e l.d its ,.dy of custoni ^
o 'Svi^l Z TT' r "'^^^' '''^^-^ "^ "'-^--^ to th
^ c h t " ""'"""• ^— -^o- states in his
P chice that no two manors could he found in France which
were ,.oven,ed in all respects by the san.e law. It is t,-u
adopt whatever was seen to be wisest in the customs of its
Of cgislat.on Even the «reat Charlema^aie, as Guixot tells
us lecture xx,.), '■ did anything but le^i.l^le ". Th 1^!^
h..stor,an proves that the fan.ous Capitularies were o ly o
s ,.t 7/ f r . '' ''^'"■"' ^" '''y '•■•^f-ict required the con-
t o^ that d:str,ct. and the kind's .,/..; .-ere directed to "t
the^s^natures onts chief men tb^^^^^^
Out of 25« ordinances of the French kin^ns from 1057 to
it o " "' '? ''' ''"""^'^ '"•^^^' '- '"•^■^ than VA-2 are f r
the sole purpose of conceding, to cities an.l boroughs tl.eir own
partK-ular custon.s. the kin. securin,. their ^lleo in e bv
:::::::z'"'-'-''--^^'^^^ -..wswiihi^thei;.
All those " conces,sionM of privilcire.^ " fhos.. " ...>,.*^,.,. ,.j , ,
[NSTINCT.
lawyers or
111 ply ascer-
if;' the par-
nil I liave
illy gave to
I'll peculiar
i.s,sor ruleil
('''es.sex law,
'todies of
1*1 its own
vvs oi" the
I'our ;;reat
customary
ery tt)wii,
I it was a
lice to the
out ol' all
tes in his
nee which
It is true
accord to
•Ills of its
bhe result
lizot tells
le learned
only old
II portion
I the con-
ed to get
I the new
1 1057 to
'2 iuv I'oi-
heir own
ance I)y
liin their
'liiiitions
" wJiich
THE GROWTH OF LAW.
178
characterise the later middle ages, are only so man}' testi-
monies to the fact that the great body of law is not made by
kings, but grows up befoi-e them, and independentl}' of their
aid. In general a king had no more power over law than our
own judges in regard to long-established customs: where two
ditterent sets were in conHict he could help to give currency
to tile better set, and it was always possible to interpret an
old custom in a somewhat modern fashion, progress being thus
secured without violent changes, but only by that slow creep-
ing onward, that scarcely perceptible reform which never
lets go its hold on the past, yet always keeps silently pro-
\iding for the future.
V. — Codes of Law.
The preface to the Salic law affirms that " custtmi is a long
habit founded upon manners; it is founded < -i antiquity, and
a long custom passes for law". And therein the old redactor
spoke most philosophically. Such codes, which are inerel}''
statements of custom, live long in oral tradition, but we can
know little of their liistory or nature before the time when
they assumed the written form. Indeed, among all nations
of the past, one of the most olndous and* ini[)ortant uses of
writing would l)e to put on permanent record the cui«t.oms
handed down from anti(iuity. All that was oral has pa+tsed
away almost irrecoverably; even codes that were engi-av^-n
upon brass columns or stone tables are utterly vanished. But
those written upon slighter and more perishabh; materials,
being copied and multiplied, have much more often come
down to us. The one conspicuous fact about them all is that
they do not ever provide a complete system of jurisjii-udence
or a perfect scheme of morality. They are compilations of
customs already becoim^ venei'able with long centuries, and
attesting in themselves by their cKcrescences, th(!ir wants, their
redundancies, that they have s])read from withi?i like other
organic growtiis, and have never been manufactured from
without as an article is made by a competent workman.
An Athenian supposed that the originals of his laws were
concocted l>y Solon : a Spartan, that his were the Avork of
^f:'
h " i
i
l< !
I :':
a
174 THK OKIGIX AND CUUnVTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
Lycnr^nLs. But we now know that tliese co.le. from the very
be^n^nm^r owed their authority to their anti.,uity. MullJr
tels UH very explicitly (Doric Race, I, 152) that " Lvcuro-us
only embodied m law.s the political feelin«.,s of his race '' And
the whole aj-^,un>ent of the «r,st chapter of his second volume
^s to show that all Dorians had the same customary law t I
name of Lycur«-u.. (whether real or mythical) havin,. be r
K ven to he most celebrated redaction of well-known usa^"
hat these soermno-Iy new laws were only the ancient riit o
retahation, and that " reconciliation with vengeful kinsn.tn by
payment" was still provided for in the pnmith-e way. aZJ
"iM- to a manuscript reference I li„d in Koeni^.swarter the
early wntten code of Athens iL,ye. Attica:, vd. i., p '.510
dn-ec e.l that if a freeman were wilfully killed hii Imily
2^it, It unannnous, ao-ree to abandon the prosecution of the
nmrderer d he had expressed his willin,ne.ss to pay a suffi-
cient compensation Even in the laws of Plato we tind that
wide he lea<lino. feature is to be ven^-eauce by the kinsmen
yet voluntary exile or an adequate payment is\o be a b r >'
urther retaliation. Nevertheless, throu,hout later AthJ L^
times, we perceive in the written laws, as Maine points out
(Anorvt Lav, p. ,372), that the conception of a criLe slow y
creeps n, as of so.nethino- not merely injurious, but sinful ^
Profes.sor Gei,.er states that the earliest written Zoroas-
/ t/a Latn'n^ fmnums, vol. ii., p. :ri., -phe earliest mode "
h says of vindicating, ones natural nVht ^as certainly by
If-redress or revenue.- This rio-ht of retaliation was Hi^
OHt .ined by the tribunal of the communitv, which w
wl i 11 1 " '"" ""'""""'t.V '•-•"'"'^^ an assembla«v. in
VMicL the oldest seniors presided. Tlu. in.vssant wars of ^hese
ancient peoples oriKiiiate,! in fulHIiin.. the dutv r>f ■,. ,
'-'""^^'- 'n-«-tchee. lison^rl^'^,:. r:;;;;^
.lerei^was enabh-d by the united sanction of the commu L
^^ security ^.y otn.in^ compensation. The VenS^
I* IH to be uotice<l that one of tfce most .,rildn<. verses
1STINCT.
n ihe veiy
y. Miiller
ice^'. And
nd volume
y law, the
v'mif been
vn usa^'es.
• , cap. ii.)
it right of
nsiiifi) by
Accord-
iitiT, the
., p. .510)
is family
311 of the
y a sutfi-
tind that
kinsmen,
a bar to
Athenian
>ints out
e slowly
nfnl.
/^oroas-
/ ixdtion
i mode,"
linly by
I'as first
eh was
' of the
ilage.
jf th
THE GROWTH OF LAW.
175
ese
•en<,nng
w mur-
inunity
ididiid,
Hut
verses
(juoted by Gei<,fer is translated in a wholly ditterent sense
by Haufr.
Eciually do the laws of Manu stand clear as a compilation
of pre-existent usaj^e. The eighth and ninth chapters are
in especial what Muhm describes them to lie, "a very <,freat
number of local bodies of usages, amid which, one set of
customs reduced to writing and pretending to a diviner
origin than the rest, exercises conse((Uently a greater iu-
rtuence over tliem, and tending, if not checked, to absorl) them ".
Xor is the case less clear in regard to the Mosaic law. It is
absolutely certain that the Israelites of previous times were
not without their usages, and we k)iow that these usages
were, as in all other nations of their degree of advancement,
founded on the family association. The birthright or suc-
cession to the authority of house-father is very prominent in •
their earlier history : and it remains, with some considerable
traces of the right of life or death, embodied in the Mosaic
code. 80, too, the law of liomicide is an echo of old custom.
The relations of the murdered man were allowed to retaliate,
and vengeance of blood was always looked upon as a sacied
duty with the nearest relative of the deceased, who is called
the avi'uger of l)lood. There is no trace of a judicial process of
any kind ])efor.! the deadly retaliation. " The murderer shall
surely be put to death. The avenger of blood himself shall
slay the murderer; when he meeteth him he shall slay
him.'" (Xum. xxxv. 19.) .Iny one who cai-efully rea.ls the
marriage laws, the laws of succession and the I'ules for war,
must pei'ceive that they are no work (jf a hiw-giver, but are
the usages grown up among a people on one of the l)arbanan
stages of advancement.
The code says "thou shalt not c(mimit adultery," but the
context shows that this is no connnand that a man should be
chaste. It merely forbids him to injure a fellow-Jew by
seducing his wife or daughter. Each man can do as he likes
in regard to eaptive^ women: he may put away his wife when
he pleases, and take any new one that his eye may fancy.
The code says "thou shalt not steal " but the context .show.s
that this ai)plies only to stealing from a fellow-Jew. Others
may be plundered at pleasure; and not only plundered, but
*'
I
\ \
Hi
176 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
enslaved, themselves and their children. The code says " thou
■Shalt not kill," but the context hugely limits this command ;
tor a man was at liberty to slay anyone who accidentally ha.l
killed a relative of his ; he was at liberty to slay a servant or
•slave, or a robber caught in the act, or an idolater. An eye
for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, that earliest of stages is
•still the basis of the code. There is perhaps a o^eater admixti'ire
of moral precept in the Jewish code tiian in any other of
primitive times, but in its main features it is still like the
rest a body of usa^e that specified classes of injuries to be
avoKled, and prescribe.! the revenge or the compensation for
these injuries.
Very similar is the condition of the Koran, whose ethical
portions merely reflect the usages of Mahomet's time in
Arabia. " Oh, true believers," it .lirects, " the law of retalia-
tion IS ordained for the slain : the free shall die for the free
the servant for a servant, and a woman for a woman. But he
whom his brother shall forgive may be obliged to make
•satisfaction accor.ling to what is .just, and a fine .shall be set
upon hnn with humanity." (Koran, chap, ii.) But in chapter
xvn. Mahomet shows himself tinged with a little of a newer
spirit : " but let the avenger not exceed the bounds of modera
tion m putting to death the murderer in too cruel a manner
or by revengnig his friend's blood on any other than the
person who killed him ".
Anything like an analysis of these ancient codes would be
tedious ami here out of place, but it would assure.Uy display
their character as me'-e compilations of pre-existent custonl
I shall select two for more careful consideration those
two which have led to the existing great bo.lies of juris-
prudence, the Roman, leading onward to the modern' con-
tinental codes, an.l the Teutonic, which is the direct ancestor
of modern English law.
Codification of the Roman law begins with the Twelve
Tal)les in the fifth century n.o. Mommsen tells us (i. 201)
that these included " no changes of the existing law except
mere regulations of police or adaptation of enactments to suit
existing circuraHtdiices ". Pi>,, lessor Cherrv says ^p. ,59) that
these tables are only a summary of the existing law. " Self-
INSTINCT.
9
I
redress is the i
upon thi
THK GROWTH OK h\\v,
nliiio' principle, but tal)l
177
viii. sliows that
riinitii
I'm- n lr>„,."i- 1 """" .v.va ui cuiiipoiisation had
S 1^' 1^," -tuhufon unless ho has n.ade a con.paet
be twentv h- J "T '"' "^'^^'"•^■' ^^^ ^''^ --P-nsation
be tucntj -hve ass.s '. This same table clearly ind eates the
dii :ir-ir' t ""^^'^^ ^"'^'^""*^- ^^'-- -'--
^^osc ^^ho bear false witness t. be thrown over the Tari,eian
Rock provisions in which the interests of the city pieva
ov^ hose of the fan.il,. It is curious, however, tc^i^li^
dirtuen e o treatment for crimes committed outside of the
^ny Wand ...those committed within it. HomiJd
a ei and teclaiica ly re^-arded as parricide. It included the
k 1 in« ot any relative as near as a first cousin ; the murderer
«as to be sewn up in a sack and thnnvn into the Tiber
Mran<,re to say, a similar .listinction continued in En<dish law
a.rthl" '-1: ^'''': ''^''' ^^"^ '^- ^'- --•'^- - «— •'
i a wif '^ -u' ]T'': "'*"" ''^' '""■^^''-''•- ^' <-• i-'^tance.
main «• "' V"'""'' ''' ' '^"^•^^'•-'•' — "^ hi
tt H V^T , P"""^""-'^- ^ ^'-^^ --turies a,o the man
A\<is Ha.^ed ahve, the woman ahvays burnt. The latter '
puinsn..t was still oceasional.y enLced down lo)^"^
In y^^''!'^^' ^^"^t '»•>'. but was then abolished. The
v^ole .hstinet.on betwee i petty treason ami murder wa^
the subdn isions I do not understand -. It ad, as I conceive,
o use but only a historical reason for its existence. The
m nts bT"^ '^"";■ *'"' ''^-^^''---'-'ts of thearran,!
ments between am.hes for the maintenance of public ordtr.
in us w,>h- P;;"^;*'-^?;'^'^" - ^'---'y ^l----^ l-m the customs
r Up '""'^^ ^"^' ^'^'^^ ^■"'^•^■■^ ''^ P^-'^--te wrongs.
In the Roman code of the Twclv Cables there is very
httle that w. should call criminal lav ■ such a thing, as Trul
UH (p. b2), can scarcely be said to have existed
he whole republican ueriud of Roman history.
Cherry i
throughc
I
.
I I
VOL. II.
12
££*€:.-
ii
P'
I-
]| k
178 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THK MORAL INSTINCT.
Tliere is a penal law specifyinf,^ the compensation to be made
for all manner of injuries. As Maine tells us (Ancient Laiv,
p. 370), " theft, assault, robbery, trespass, libel, slander are all
only wrongs which are reciuited by a payment ". This great
authority (p. 374) considers that as Roman society progressed
there occurred the gradual development of ihe idea that a
crime was not a mere injury done to an individual, but a
wrong done to the whole community, and that a payment of
money to relatives could not absolve the guilt of him who
had shed innocent blood.
" The notion of a crime," says Cherry fp. .56), " was of ex-
ceedingly slow development in Rome," ami [Maine considei-s
that true criminal law did not appear till the Lex Calpurnia
of 5 ■;•* !?.c. Mommsen (iv., cap. x.) thiidvs that criminal law.
piv.peiiyso called, began with the Leges Corneliffi passed by
Sxiln hi 81 n.c, and this estimate, which agrees with that of
Gibbon (cap. xliv.), is by preference accepted by Cherry. Even
after a true criminal law had made a commencement, the
intrusion of a moral feeling as distinguished from mercenary
interests was very gradual.
But the early growth of law is better seen in the codes of
our Teutonic and Celtic ancestors than anywhere else. For
they were still in barbarian condition when the art of writing
was introduced among them from abroad, and they were
under close observation by civilised writers whose works are
well known to modern times. They show, even more clearly
than other codes, that laws are not the origin of morals, but
that they form at first a domain utterly indifierent to morals,
and concerned only with order ; a domain, however, alway.s
more and more invaded by a previously existent moral feeling.
We have the full text of many of these early codes— Salic,
Ripuarian, Burgundian, Visigoth, Lombard, Frisian, Bavarian'
Saxon, the early English laws of Ina, of Whittled, of Ethel-
bert, of Alfred, and of Athelstan, together with the Scandi-
navian codes, the Brehon laws of Ireland, and the Welsh laws
of Howell.
The basis of all is the acknowledged right of self-redress,
and the statement of the compc.i.sation with which it was
customary for those who wished to avoid a feud to buy oft"
NSTINCT.
to be made
cient LaWy
ider are all
This <freat
pro<,'re.sHefl
dea that a
lual, but a
payment of
i' him who
was of ex-
i considers
Calpurnia
miiial law,
! passed by
ith that of
'ry. Even
imeut, the
mercenary
le codes of
else. For
of writin^r
they were
works are
are clearly
lorals, but
to morals,
er, always
al feeling.
!es — Salic,
Bavarian,
of Ethel-
e Scandi-
''^elsh laws
If-redress,
3I1 it was
;o buy ofi"
'J'lIK (HIOWTH OF LAW.
179
tlH, expected vengeance. Of the seventv-seven laws of Uf 1
accordn.g to Stephen's analysis (//.V. ' ' L 7 '"''
•>o less than thirty.four specifv tl.> ' ' ""'' '" ■^^^'
^■or bodily iniurii/ tX f • '^ compensation
J' injuius. lake, tor instance, til. toot- Cm. fl.,> i
a lip, and „c»,,,i„,:t '",;,«:;"; "' ""■ "'" "°* "'■
wa, entitle,, .„ „..,; the .^^^W ' ^ lllrfuXnT'
5.t. 1 ;;i;.; ,; ; ':,';"'.■'•■■'■ <Li.*,„„.„,..s c„necti„„) the
I:at;t;lH^tF-''-"
In the Fri n iaw " P'"'™'^'^' ^'"^^^ ■^^""-^-.
-i""teiy;:2,x x^jr^r'^-^^^^ ^^^^ ^-^^
tl'nn 105 dirterent wL'^'n > ' ^^'inenhum), no less
--ntso.sac:ll-l--n^^^
^^^h":::^-'"^ ^^ "r ^"^^"'-^^ compensJ^ic^"'-^^'
he Sa . ode . very business-like in its mercenary view
similar fashion with tlt\.rbervo/ , ""^' ''""^" '^'^^^ '"
bees, and so on The 22nd^P^ ?' ^'"'''' ^'"^"' ^'^^'•''•
•squeezed the 1^ id of ! t '' «°"'^^'""« ^im who ha<l
dere,I L. ^ ^'"'^ ''"'^«»' *^^'«1^« that is mur-
deiul, the compensation is only 200 pence
C-TUlZOt shows ih-ii ihciu 1
-ntially penal, tl^' sjlr IX^^i" ^l" e^'^ '''7'
«xty-ftve on all otl... «nK:...„ „." r'\P'^"^^ '-^^'t'cles to onl
M f
I ■
V. I
sixty-ftve on all other subjects put together,
and ol these 150
IMAGE EVALUATION
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180 THK OKIGIN AM) GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
r.|Vr to rohhery. an.l 118 to violence against tl.e person, thirty
elHtu,.- o nuitilac.ons an.l tu'enty-fou,- to violation of won.en
or all these an.l every otlence the injure.! party !>a.l the ri-ht
personal vengeance if he chose to take it; hut if he feare.l
to hght or h.st,.ne.l to the wishes of his frien.ls not to pre-
e.p.tate a l.M,.l, the co.le infornie.l hin. what was the compen-
sation which custom ha.l allotted to the case
Xone of these co.les is in any way the work of a legislator.
On he contrary, they base their claim for reverence on their
great anti.,uity. As Cuizot says (Civllisafiou, i, 45(i), they
consist of '; customs collecte 1 an.l transmitte.l from genciation
o gvneratmn, mo.hHe.I, exten.le.l, explaine.l, an.l re.luce.l to
law at various times ,lown to the en.l of the eighth century".
Ihe le.^rne,l M Wiar.la tells us they ar.> "mere enumerations
of customs an.l ju.hcial .lecisions". As a rule they make no
pret.Mis.ons whatsoever to moral feeling. In the co.le of the
baxonsit >s prov.le.l that the .leath of a noble at the han.ls of
a plebeian shoul.l be avenge.I by the .leath, not of the culprit
one, but o seven also of his n.ale relatn-es. So in Englan.l
ettle. the co. .• un.ler which Dane and Saxon mi-dit live
anneal y t.>g..ther it was stipulated that the .leath of^, „ bl
oul. be atone.1 lor only by the slaughter of six ceorls. Vp
ulliTX'?; 1 ; '" "T Anglo-Saxons directe.l that the
oulpnt ^l o la,le.l to pay the customary compensation shoul.l
I.e han.l..,l over to the injured person to be by him slain r
mut,late.l or eaten. At first, in such a case. L amom
eng ance to be exacted was entirely at the discretion of th
injured person, but ni proportion as society became more
organise.l, it was held that the amount of vengeance o^hJ
to be .letermined by "the counsel of those wI.oscmU y iHf o
uJ^It!!;::^"^"" '''^'' '- '' *'~blyof thefrim^^
Without further elaboration or the supevnosition of the
multitu.hnous .letails so easily available. I shall assume t
h mam cm ention of this chapter is now solidly establish
cod in ''"" '•"' '''' ""^^"^^' -«I- -^'l -tenti.. 1. f
codes of laws were not in any way moral. While „KM-..Ht.^
though It had no voice in law«, was slowly growing round the
iL INSTINCT,
3 person, thirty
tioii of women.
y liad tliu riolit
lit il' he feared
lis not to pre-
iH the com pen -
of a le^-ishitor.
rence on tlieir
. i., 45(i), they
oni <^'e,neration
nl reduced to
hth century ".
t'mimeratioiiN
they make no
le code of the
t the liands of
3f the culprit
in En<>-land,
n which wa.s
'1 mifrht live
th of a noble
<■ ceorls. l"p
scted that the
^ntiou sliould
him slain or
le amount of
I'otion of the
»ec{uiie more
I'fuice on ((lit
duty it is to
e freemen of
itioii of tlie
iisaume that
established,
intention of
!o mor.iiity,
g round the
I'HK GROWTH OK L.UV.
181
hearth, retaliation was the sole el...,.i- „, i
tVom the tally, a,.,, ,a>v ^.r^tJ^tj^Zj:':^^^^
ri
ili
: ( i:
\t-4
M i
182
CHAPTER XXI.
THE PRKVALENCK OF LAW.
Up to the earlier stages of barbarian .society, tbou^rh l.nvs in
allowed wses t, •"„'"'' 7 ?"'l'"^-*-" -hich u.sa^e
escape ti::t:;:: ^ ^t-: '''Zt^\:'r''^: '-' -'''
.ionnant an.on^. tbe crow.l L %ht tbou«.h there i,s
ouan-,>l .,., 1 +1 / . P *^° ^^^*^ •'^^'"e intere.st in the
the most ancient tribunal of the Teutonic r«no« u "":, f'
■^«.n.e ot the term, but only a n.ean.s of artl.r.lin
1^'' advice.
THK I'R];VALENCE OF LAW.
J.S8
lough laws ill
there is little
yet they are
V are, not by
■1 I'eluctaiice
-1 before one
S il a family
iVhich Tisa^^e
uld pay and
^i^'h there is
itiment that
vances with
^ element of
1 blackened
to separate
plaints, and
^^e up their
ves for the
conipensa-
i spearmen
rest in tlie
*t ; for no
nd. As it
I niore in
Humh-ed,
is saitl by
>dy in our
g advice.
I
'■•a
Every freeman of the district -athered to it if he felt so dis-
posed. " Then- jrreat function," says Maine, " was to »'ive hot
bloo.l the tnne to cool, and so to prevent men from reuressin..-
then- own v.ronos." For in such an assembly, when the
elders had recite.l the rhymes wherein were expresse.l the
usaf,^es ot old, or when the venerable tables or parclnnents
had been produced that recounted the sacred customs of the
race, the nidivi.lual or family that scouted these woul.l ha\e
to reckon on a general disapprobation, a kind of enforcement
which we still see on a yrand scale in international disputes.
But it must not be for a moment supposed that the belli-
gerent families were thus in any way boun.l to settle their
dispute. There are still abundance of people who think that
a nation is tame an.l spiritless which submits its (juarrel to
arbitration: but much greater in the past was the pride of
strenotb and coura-e and skill in arms ; and many a family
of old broug-ht its grievance before the court of the Hundred
not to obtain redress, but merely to justify its resolution of
hghtino-, hopmn' perhaps to win the general sympathy in
Its (puirrel. The fundamental feeling in the court of the
Hundred was that if mediation could avail it was well ; if
not let the disputants strip for the fight.
This is the true meaning of the ordeal by judicial combat
so long obscured by ignorant philosophising. Gibbon rightly
says : " It was not as a mode of proof that the combat was r.-
ceived, but in every case the right to offer battle was i'ounded
on the right to pursue by arms the redress of an injury," and
he gives iletails from the Assize of Jerusalem to show that
even^ hi the twelfth century it was still regarded in that
primitive light. Montes(|uieu expresses accurately the truth
when he says that the judicial combat was only a mode of
reducing to orderly fashion the old right of personal redress
(Esprit des Luis, x.xviii., 17.) " Families used to make war
for murder, thefts, and injuries. This custom was modiiie.l
by putting the combat into order, under rules and beneath
the eye of autiiority, a thing much preferable to the general
licence of mutual injury."
GuiTOt iB etjuuliy decided in his view {Civilisation, iii.,
l«2) : "The more one examines the documents, the more
I 'i
Hi
^^ If
I I
I
I' t
l< t
1)
I.'
i H
>
1H4 THi: onifi
"'IN' AXD O
Clearly wii] h, ,,, ^hat i„d
ROWTir OF THE
•MOKAL I\STINX'T,
IS to
Jl
elf.
'•^ 'ippeal to force, the nVht
"n!:rl!' :!"•' '-^-^^ --■, that
>f each to
.justice to
lal
uiuse
society, and th
eo'lure occupied but litti^;";;; U^ZTl ^ ^"''^^"^ I^^'""
in all thi,s there is no n. ''"^'*' "•>''^*^''» "•
--."bered that U^.^;'- t^^^ T"'*^'' '"^'' ^^ '"-^ ^e
Eu-peof the nu.ldle ^l i, t ' " %•' ,"''" "'^^' ^« ^^-
•^-'ts t!,e early pba.e ^f ] J ■'?"' ^'^'^'^^^ ^t repre-
--•tive a race, the ^lo^ ^1^: ^T" ^'^ -^'^ -li^
,f '-^ "PC- the old <lo.„ain o : , thl r ^T™"'"""*
•'^^«ply i-ooted was their idea tb.Vn P™ce.lure. How
other redress than that w Id', """ "''"' ■^'^«"''' '"I'^I^- "o
77-theoid„^;^:^t^:7;f^'-«^
«tood. even in the thh-teenth "In.v ^ T T^^'^'^'y "-'--
;^'ebt which the debtor refused to v ' '""' ^'''■'"^■•' ^^
^^"t to fi^dit for it. This .t e.st r ;, "' '""' '"^''''"«- '^'^'t
P-ved V Montesquieu a h^^; '^r'"^" -^^'^^'-'^'^
yhen Louis le Jeune in the , i 111^ . . •'"'*'' ^^ ^'^'^i^^'
directed the magistrates no to ' '' '^'' ''"'''''' ^«»tury
bat between debtor and cl it ?" '"'" "'^ •'"''•^>'^^ '^O'"-
-- ^ess than Hve shiZ^ ^1:^:^ l'^ ""'; •"' '^'^^'^
bare, .s enough to sati.sfy us tha the r"" '''\''^'' '^^"^'^
;brou,.h the same stage befortln. ".'"'. ''''' ^""'^'^^
Tables; that the Greeks wen n^ °^ ^'''^^"- twelve
-i^ed heroic, and tC'; r^x::::^.!::"^'^ ^: '• ^^^^ ^^-^
tbe days of Moses. On the otl .^ '? '* "''"'^" before
i^-td^^yintherighlo^::; J^^^^^^^^
«ot by appeals to eduitv h.,f . *^'-'"' wrongs,
i-lividuals the right of Lbat ,:f "T^ '^^"^'^" ^'^^^^
d"^^ll>-n«- until last centurv H ^^"'''^ °" '" ^^'^ fo"n of
J-b-cial character ; b t iol^S "' ^r"'"' ''^'^^^^^ ^^ ^^s
-.->h^r army code.; of he s ixt L '^ "l^'"- '^^^" ^'-^ by the
tbo right to h'.dit out H ."^'''"^'^ ^^^"<^'"'y. soldiers still had
«ften in the pni n^f^ tb' '"""'^ "^^'^ ">« «t and
blessings gaineclfo? L ' TT^f'- '' ''^ «- "^ the
"»«" owes me money ox f * ^'^ "^'"^""^"'^ ^bat if a
I
iL
AL INSTIXCT.
i-ivato war, tliat
todoj'u.stico to
"'' the feudal
pt-'uceful pi-u-
'.stem ".
'iikI it must bo
r.s only to the
tures it repre-
'«■ 'J'he n)ain
■ous and self-
eneroaeluuent
'e<Iure. How
'lould ask no
»<1 could win,
rsally under-
an claimed a
Jiothin^c left
I laboriously
lite a relief
Ifth century
udicial com-
i" dispute
ich, thou^rh
'ia<l passed
^'ii' Twelve
' tlie epoch
ane before
un to the
iv wrongs,
n private
e form of
t<id of its
at by the
i still had
sent and
i« of the
that if a
ollin^r or ^
'I'i %ht
THK I'KEVALKXCK (H- LAW. jg^
liiiii. whether he be stron-'er than F .,.,.
war. ">,M LIU II ,11 ,,r a u-eneral
■WO..0.. to ti,.,. .,,0 „,u„,, of In;, ™ ;l: "^
>v.K never meant to prove tlie f,,,tl, ':'""■■ "'" "y'"'"
innocence of a person accuse T ['" """■•"'""" »'■ "'"
"Lowed how ,n' ny kirn „..,': "'"V""' """' "'"■■"'^
the other. For in th„ ?' .'"".'■ ■""'I'""' '"""}• to stan.l by
apF=u-e.l with m th •""."'"T "" "'"* "'"■ '""'' «"?'
Now the tc„ti'n,o„;T;;::\,; ■ t::- ,::;:■ :; .;■" "-'■'■
value as that of an armed nrm if fj , '""''''
cedure had been to disco he tn^h^Af''"' '^•^ ''" P^'^"
have been witnessed only by wom^ T '"'""' "*"■''
but their testimony as t^ s^e;^ S;;,;;:^;;;;- ^'"'^^-"^
•nitted was never allowed On 1 1 > " '''"' '^'"■
-en would be brought to sw Ir L.^'t '""' ''' """"''
fact, but only to a General heli' P , '"'^ Particular
accused. (Pike i 55^ st't >-.'" "'' '"""^^'"^« °*' "^^^^
a widowei ,ue;n ol '^i:: li„ ^^'•-' ^"--^tity of
pended the ri^rht of her infa„ to ''''""'"^''""'^ '^"'' "" ''^ ^e-
brou,.ht. not aomesti c^itn Vrrv'V^.f' ^'"■°'"'' '^'^^
her life, but .00 nobles wi^ ill ^^ H^ '"f 7""^ °'
to their belief in her purity in oth , V , '" '''''''' '
need arose. (Gibbon '0^';:^;;^ ""•''^' '"^ '''' ^^ '^ ^^
Compur«;ators were certainly not witness... Ti
supporters; and the system wl "''' ^'^"'^f • Uiey were
justice, but to suppreJ' t s Wl .,"'"■""'■' '' P^'^^"^-
-•-le were in the popular as Iblv'" '^ '"'""■'' '""' '' «"«
<f the other sidc^t^n^. U^ ^.'S' ^ ''"^'""^ '^^^"
tlie accuser, and only thirtv i^^^l ,? '""' '^"f ^^'^^''^
^--,ht. It would beaconv:::;:::.;:^^":"!:;:
> i
)
: i
I !
IS ';
I
180
THE OHr,WX ANi) OKOWTH OP THK MoiUL INSTINCT.
t.nty. When Or^^etorix the Helvetian Nvas sannuone. o
tnal, he brouf^ht with him "his faniilv to th. ^
10 000 m,^n ..., I 11 1 • 1 I'lnuiy to tlie number of
/r«, 1., 4. Ihese were not suppose.! to be witnesses for
ms lo ^^hen he ha.l anne.l support behin,! bin,. He
^^Iu. Imd h,s own swonl and those of his friends to be
US witnesses, ..uo-hed to scorn the man who o ' f led
H^e sn..le point to be settled in the systr.' o et '
back hnn up n>ost effectually. Far better that one wmn-^
liould ,.0 unpunished than that a deadly feud shoXl lead to
a lono. tram of wronys and horrors *""
savv m the .lust a soverei^m which I picke.l up an.l that a
Yllainous-lookino. fellow behind n.e sleppin. ip dlanded
he co.n as .me he ha.l lost. I n,i,ht lle^i.rto^;.:^ r ^^
hip but 7 ,'' r\ '' ^'^*'^"""«- --1-- of oJn r-
wSbur J . • "" "^''^''''^y ^"^^"^^-^ tJ^'^t the
conce..L that the case was clear and hand over the -rol.l Now
ni'Xir^Tr'' ''r!'-^' --•" ^- eo„.pm^l^'^
u e oJd st3 ie. Ihey woul.l not condescen.l to state anv fart.
^;;^:eh mi,ht satisfy a reasonable min.l. In the ^ L^^
tl ui faces, an.l the ready grasp of their sticks I mus
perceive the strenoth of their case.
Yet, althouo.h this was the real nature of compummtion it
-ay be supp.,,se.i to have secured on the ave^e "er
-^uo.h sort of Justice. A notorious scoun.Irel ^ on who
eomnutte. a very base act. woul.l in the majoi% o Zs IZ
ew fnen.ls to support him. Of course, a valiant am ol
empered ruffian nu,.ht be very popular, and llx C^
ollowmg In that case the ancient folk-moot wou d folW
an.l thank Go.l they wore rid of a knave ". But in general it
'•fill
iAL INSTINCT.
1 iiii act of hos-
^ HUiuinoiiod to
tlio miiuhor of
'tors ". {Gallic
! witnesHes, for
inoan as .siib-
ind him. He
friondH to be
10 only talked,
ostein of coiu-
aaily ^foiiin; to
lat one wroii<f
should lead to
country road I
p, and that a
up, demanded
o put a (|ues-
3c of ownor-
, three more
'1 in liis hand
oath tliat the
icod that tlie
ild f,a-acefully
le ^'old. Now
ipur^ators in
'ate any facts
gnm look of
ck.s, I must
pnr^ration, it
I'af,^^ a very
or one who
of cases find
t and jolly-
ia\'e a lar^re
>'ould follow
let him ;;o
n ^'eneral it
'IHIO I'liHVALKNCE OV LAW,
187
men of the other If «-. ..„t« • . •,. , "^ "^^^ 'iJ^'^imut the
<V^^a V t t "!•'"' "^ •'^'"'"■""-'" P>-"P«>rtioned to tl,;
^^ia\it;y ot the accusation. Thus in tl... ^ i r xi i..
'"" ■■ if » iml.lo kill, „ cImM U I '■ "■'"' ■-"•'^^■"— ■"
In England there mus .seen •. st,..„],- f i
formity in the number of f. ^ tende.icy to uni-
c»,»u« of the c,„ic», ..„:,:;;.'■ ;:;:•:„';: t' '™
»,1, , ,,,tl, u n '7. .'''"'"'>■ '■■""' Wie relics, and tl„.
ir
if> 1'^'
i
jl
1:1
was to seek Divine atte.JuT f' ''" °''-'^'^^ ^^ ^^^"ch
the Jew,s, if Twk " " ''' T" ' "■ "'"'^^^'"^- ^^">0"^'
brought tith;;,!^:,,;^:^^' ;"eo..tancy. «he wa^
atW„.akin, takl\ t;;™^^"^- '" ----tJ'- vessel, and.
gmltv "her lu^U^r ,.. i , ,! ' " *'''^' ^™'"an were
in cold water, l^r^S:. I^:?^'"'"* ;™"'' '>J' ■»-™
Eucharirti'or by ti " ; fl °'"' ''^ "'" '"''''■"=''■ V *«
■najority.orwCi, lal, f "™"''« '■■■"'■. whereupon the
toLI^omfZltl T "" ;" '«""™'»'-'l- central
-e .ean» be >^:i::::i:'^:!jvz.:':::i, --«"
W.. VII., VIII. ,,,„ ix._T,„ K,.vo.., p,,,,
- ''''"iSrsxr:;':^^^^^^^^^ p.opie»
peculiarly interesU,,,, f„ , *■ P""Ciple», and in itself
«ta«e of devc „™ t .?, "' "<=, ■""«'<"«■■- that at a certain
o- perhaps an i»„;:::^el: ;: r^ i::;;: f - -""'-p'"
fe- LuuK piact in Lhe constitution
"JAL IXSTIXCT.
'!■«. By (IffrreoH,
■e anil more of a
em.
•stem of compur-
■Iit of supjiortiiiu'
tice. They w.-iC
'f i'eucls. But it
object of which
'Jceiice. Amoiiu-
^taiicy, .slio was
lust on the flour
lien vessel, and,
ixture to (h-ink.
lie woman were
;''is woiUd rot"
ler unfaithful,
tems of judicial
es the Church
had to give a
'ced them ; his
by ordeal was
by immersion
Y the bleedin^r
dance, by the
leal was that
liereupon the
' — the central
irein, though
iioral.
EACE.
aean peoples
and in itself
at a certain
in allotropic
constitution
Tin: i'ni;vAr,K\CK of law. i,s()
of society. The individual atoms were no longer grouped in
the tamdy as the molecular basis, but in th,. mu, iMos the dis-
tnct, the guiM. the borough. Ties of ki„dre.l wre ioos..ned
ami t.esot contiguity and allegiance took th.ir place. JJetween'
he sixth and the tenth century, .society l,u,l l.^en suhj.-cted
to the strain of enormous internal forcvs. The old hou.M.hold
ea.ling the placid life of farmers and hunters in its own wood-
land clearings, had been shivere.l an.l shatte.v.l as the waves
of compiest advance.] an.l retreated. Dreams of victorv
earned forth the younger .sons from the family hearth to join
some famous chi,.f. They settled in far-off lands, forgettin.-
the claims ol kiml.vd, an.l forming new as.sociations. At otlur
tmies, as the a.lv..nturous recor.ls of these .lays amply testif\-
It was when th,. househol.l was feeling the strain of evil wh,;.'
want was pressing hard on the heels of incessant fighting that
the y.junger men grew .liscontente.l an.l wandere.l away ' But
It was still, as ,t ha.l always been, dangerous or even fatal for
a man to live unattached, relying only on his own arm for
protecti..,!. He generally went forth attracted by the fame
of some chief whose ,,../,//, he became, swelling the comitate.
or ban.l of compani.,ns to whom the chief owe.I his power
Ihis was a process which infallibly destroye.l the ol.l famih'
system for when a mm i tat us of several hun.lred spearmen w^s
orme.l m a .bstrict. all its mend)ers .levoted to arms as a pro-
fession, the ol.l ,.vdy union, numbering .sixty to 100 men
farmers or shepher.ls by trade, soldiers only by necessitv'
was unable to maintain its rights. A new order of n,",-'
bdity arose, in which the pride of birth counted for com-
paratively little. A base-born man whose personal skill an.l
ascendency gathere.l roun.l him some hun.lreds of .levote.l ■
ollowers by whose assistance he coul.I impose on .some
housands of oth..rs a condition of subserviency, and compel
their assistance when re.iuire.l, became the count, the duke or
even the prince of the new order of society
Instead therefore, of a tie of common ancestry, tlie-e was
he oath of allegiance ; in place of the house-father there was
he hege lord. In such a land as France, for instance, many ^
hundreds of barons forme.l each tlie nucleus of his own mole-
cule, consisting of men sworn to spend their last drop of blood
i!
I*
f: i if
'I*
l^W T„,, o,a.r, ,,, „,„^^.,,.
'•V oath to .sustain then an.l Lt , ' "'"' '■''"'^">' ''"'""'
^-'' '" --T -inanvl. "l. th ."T" "«"''^^^ '^" -'"-s
power crept th. in.nsfi u ,1 .''l ''^^' f f''^ '-"i-''^'.le
to be, ^irla.l to work an.l oIh-v f . ' . " "'" ''''''I'^'"^"'
'- -if. his own. an, o. ;; " , '7 '" "' '"'' ''" ^'"'-^ -«f*'-
-ehanuu.,i.,l.f,,,,:^;' ;;,'>■- tl..s...^^^
which, thou^^h ,n-in. an,l oppress 't "T'.^'"'' *''« P«-«r
t-n against the in.liscrin.inite ra^ ;.ri^ ^ ''" '""^ J^''"^*''^-
<>' Iv.n.. Athelstan in En.^lan.I ( v o • n , """"'^'- ^ ''^^
wiu. has no lord n.y he ki;:.! !;";• S ;.;■-;-'-* -y -^^
-it^rsr^t;:r:::r;'V'''^'^
tl.e rise of the fre.hnu iC- •"; "' "^ ''"' "^■■•^^'''' -"'
tlie injure.l family • th,. n. i "' ''^'^^ ^ compensation to
l™.k.,- „uch o» \-ercin,-"t„ 1 1 ".'■'"''''"""■'"■"'I VVhcn a
« l-«e force, tia r^M', .;■"";■■'''" '-'"'''^■'■"' ' "H
."«;'y of P.-o»o,.v,,, ;:;;:,' ;r ,:':;;; '"--"'--.o,,.,,-.
Jialoiis,™ „,„1 |„.a,,|., ,,„„|,| , '""}'■ An army f„li „f
a.;>l a c„,„p„te„t co„„„a J , ^ f '° f^' '"•;.';■ 'ii-sto,
""'-■«'"«», of ,„pp,,,,i, .,,;;'„' *°'- '"l«*l^'. «".„„,,
■"Utilation „truck toror into ,1 ;"'"'"'■ '^""'' or
l«'y-« to ».ve ii,„ ," Ltr"T "?"■'"""» '"■"'='P'«<"-
<!-. or «„e for breach on,!: "at* """ "'"'' >'»^'' "- '-
ilie baron, the prince th,> l-;., ^u , .
preserving or,,er; ,1. „Sn . ';, rr'"'';',''', ,"-"«'■' "f
and as he slon-ly chan,r„| f,,„ , ''" '"""' '"" " P™ce,»
ritorial n,a,-„ate?^ he Xd I n,'""''" ~'"' "' ""■ '» « '-
ever he happcncl to b" H 's^r'T 'T ," P"""' •" "'-
rotind his home. Under tl,,. 1 7 Z ^ '^'^^ "" Rawlins
tl.«' the kin,. can«e,Uhe ,"';t;:'» tn ''rf"'-'' "■" ^■'-
'<■; palace. In the Brehon Cof ;::," ,'"■"'■ '""" '""-
chiet ,v„s the distance over wInVI, b • J '"'""""' °'' "
l-ovoeaUve of retaliation ' I t ' wT' , "'""■• """" '"'■»*
■•sanctuary" of the prince to ,v •!, ' '""' "' """.lUhe
P.-.>cla,nati„n ^tended, ll , p^tPr '""'""'^" """ ''^
uppo.su { to .secure tiierein an
IfAI^ l.NSTI.VCT.
lS-.-.|ll;illy l,oui|(|
I'l-.Nt all <"ii. •lilies
tin's foniiidiil)],;
tl"-'!-!' ll,ll.|H.lio,j
'lis tliro.it sfifV,
'Viiit ui' liis toil
' t'ai-ly <lays did
»P"i't the power
'is only protoc-
■"•'"'y. A law
< that any man
>;r<^' in the con-
K' woi-H'iM jin.!
•"IH'iisation to
'iitilty i'or (h'.s-
'"'!• When a
■"^■'i I'onndliiiii
'Oils respoiisi-
ariny fuij ^^^■
"i^'« disaster,
wblu, anions;
JX'atli oi-
' pi'iiiciple of
I'L'd, and the
pay, the fre-
the ri^dit of
'is " peace,"
a^r, to a ter-
ace," wher-
I brawling'
y We know
i(n"les from
t'ciiict of a
H>s for acts
lowell, the
it was? by
lierein an
THE rRKVALKNo; of law. jfj|
invioh.l,le p..ace. In the old Teutonic laws, the punishn.ent
'^--•< -' fo'- any act of violence done within the li nits '
prmces court was fron> three to ten tiu.es as ' v .^ th
onhnar, y to be paid. (8ee, U. instance, Laus ,:? it". ^
^ I.nenbn,,^ collection.) In the Frisian iL .H^ d
(t.t. 17) that ,t any one in the anuy raises strife he n.us
paynn.efod wergild for any injun- he causes, an I ne
tredun. o Ins lord for the disturbance occasioned
In the early middle a^^es, econon.ic changes occurre<l to
^nveasupenor nnportance to the fredun, wldch h n tl
hrs place been of relatively sn.all conso.iuince. iC h we
S ":" \^'^'T ''' '''^' '-^^y '^^'«>"tily known pyn'^V
Hence ,t had a deci.led tendency to ren.ain Hxed even H h
by the slowly increasing abun.Iance of gold and silv r h
vahxe of money was declining. There was,'^^here or r tu r^^
<l"n.nut,o,i nUhe efficiency of the wergild as a detc^-'ren '
tredum served to weight it up : but M-hile the we •;,.':
anaen and established sum the fredun. was a new^r „ 1'
vanable penalty. The latter, therefore alwivs I? T
W,t , the nseot the fredum there ca,„e clear indication of
».law„„,s,en»e of morality in the pnolic lawK.a per c" on o
hie woX f,t . " '"'^ ""■ ""■*>'*'''• "'« »"'P«.'s'tion
"inch would free lun, from retaliation. But now it wa, in
Jjceral understood that for a purely accidental hlrv n^,'
•luu, but only the werKil.l should he payable. 'hTfed,,"
ould be exacted only when the in.iury „•„ wilful ,d U 7
lore UKheated a wanton .linturbance of the lord', ,«a „ T „;
n the law, of Alfred .Stephen, W.,. „f Crin,. 7.^ ' 5^)"
l» prov,d«l that ■■ if a man have a spear over In, ,h„nl 1 , >
another ,„„„ „tahe hi„„e,f upon ,', the l:!.: oftf l;:;
If
Hi
11
['' '
i
i ^
: !:
192 THE OUmiX AXI, GUOWTir O. XHK MORAL INSTINCT.
•slmll pay the \n,-o-iM, but not the fredu.n " thJ^ i" f .•
was very .eneml, a„<l as ft ..-ew tee. ,/^'" "'''"^^''«"
merelyas an injury to anothernu,; u ■ ! " ' ^-"""^^ "ot
against th. Io..,l, ;.,. .tea.lily .^'ell^lr """'""' "' '^"'"^^
l^ut as with the wernihl «„ wit). tl„. c. i
eo.n,.«ls..,- ,0,. tlK. I„,,r.„ „„, ■ ,.:;,!,,"?"'■ ""-^
v'onm.q.i",. -vr . . ^ "*^ pioteired to exact
..«to «».,■„,.,., „,. „„ ,,,, „,.„„„,, ,„; J ; ;__, - ...«.;
sail.™., .....uciLie : o „,„ t, : ■!; B^ ' ■' ""r'^'
there were so hte ... i-^-r "'^ "'^ ^'"'^'^ '» Berkshire alone
-npn-e: an. when Wiilian. the Cou,ueror IV.un.l ^^ ^ ,
wlutt seon,e.l a ,sn>o.uiarIy stron,i. position in En-lanc h
caused h.s " peace " to be prochtinie.l over all the la 7 •
to make his jurisdiction tLi ;« l/ i ' ''°P'""
,. .|i^"siutuon, that is, his exclusive r .rht of ref.ii;..
tion, everywhere ackiiowledtjed Wo know ). "
he was, how every castle h-ul • ^"^"'^^^ ^^T "»«"ceesshil
otiended the lord the, f hmv tl T" ^'' '^°'^^ ^^>^^
re.,tr,e.o„. and faiK.,, : ,,„. «„,„„„ ,„, a,;:;/;-^^ J^-
AL INSTINCT.
TJii.s (iistinction
f a wrono-, not
L'ovcr, an ott'ence
111, it never was
feri-od to exact
<1 that in every
)t I'ui-ni.sh com-
The local iiiao-.
tlie men, and
'uvu'sdaij B(Hik
« of the manor
poNsessed this
ad hi« private
ierkshire alone
an thirty-five
wiiino- all who
the characters
' thiid-: them
iiited hy the
ii' retaliation
lid pass with-
"^ will in op.
<ind iiimself
iition. Even
'8 themselves
usage. We
i laws of his
d himself in
England, he
land, hoping
it of retalin-
unsuccessful
' those who
was always
>"ons ; liow
iniself from
kings were
,'lad to leave to each boi
THE PREVALENCE OP LAW.
Kilt as the barons checked the
•0"^-li and district its
knights checked the 1
goodwill in }
^I'lir, so ii
own customs.
11 each district tl
Accori
II . own rough fasl
^••011, who was boun.l to culti
lie
•''iM- to Stubhs, tl
lion.
vate their
le
4'reat k
le
nii.ldle ages was the en 1 ' " "*" '''''^"''•^' "'' the
the " ki.i's le o^; T;7 "" "^"' '^'^"'^^' ^" -^-'<'
P'-ivate war, and imCf" .'""""' "'"""' ^''^ '^^'^^^ «f
""P'i-l that haro. ^s^sLui '"' T.''^ P"""' '^^^^^''' '^
-on.s they suffered, a:r ^ Z TLI^^-'T '''
power was not yet existent Tf ''"'' ""^ ''"^''^l
tliii'tcenth century tin nLfe "" ""' 'l^' ''"''"''''"*' "^■*'-
n«'ht of every bum ! T . '"'"' '*^"''^^'' *° ''^ '^ recognised
i.w. baron-: L^t^^n "" 'I" ^''^''^ ^^ ^^^'^' ^''^^^^
™i.ed him. bl:: :!:t;;^:::U!^'i-y -- ^^■'"> ^-^^^
to the courts, and often, in fact d , 1 h '^' ""' "''^"^^
ii'«- bloodshed- but it vn. I ''* '""*"'" "'■ ^^^-^^i'l-
France. Germany 1:^ Z^T '^' "r"" ^'^^'" ''I'^'-" ^^
efforts to supprei; H ,f ' ™'''' ^^'"^'^''- "'^^^'^-' ■^^^'•""^'
while in Oermanv h '' '^''"''^ •'•'"^'''"-» i" France.
the Pmsecution o . t . !'e " ''"""'""* ''^^ ^'"P""*^^
close of the reign of L ' I T 'r"",? ^" '^^"^^'-"'' ^t the
on.sson.tln-^tatu":fC.i^^^^^^^^
the determination of the rov..l ^ ^ ""^ a.d.) aiuKmnced
"■i'» ■».«« with ,iH.i,. „„„ , „ :™' 'T"' "" "'°""
'"»t™'i of .M,i„„itti„„ ti„.,„ ., '"■" ""■"■ "■■■""sp
•■f that rcV,, to |,.4; tc , ' " '■ '" "'"'"■" ''J- » '■"""•"
"■ ><■•» "« ti,„ oM , , ; ; i rr''""''. '•';'""■•' '■ ■"■' ■""*
iiient of " ooiiser
'listrict, to wl
of tl
lOl
vators of the pea
'I was delegated tl
"lly, by I
''"/' iidlueiitial
lese was dii'ectod to use 1
le I
iiN apj)oint-
iiien of each
'oyal authority. Kaeh
VOL. II
18
lis own men and all the well
»l .
I "t*
fh:
IV'
', i
^f j
I i
\ ■;
194 THE ORICrIN AND GROWTH OF THK MORAL IXSTIXCT.
affected of the .listrict for the purpose of apprehending^ in tlie
km^r's name any one who broke the peace. Tlie prisoners
were to be detained in the house of the conservator when it
was stroncj enouj,di for the purpose. Otlierwise woo.len ca^vs
were to be made to liold them in custody. Under Edward
III., these local ma^-nates were desiojnated "justices of tlie
peace," and ])e<'-an to arrest marauders and try tlieni in courts
of .(uarter sessions. Every l)orou<rh Jiad one such court,
but the kino'-s power was (,uite inade(iuate to the suppression'
altoo-ethei- of the ohl arrano'ements, and oreat lords still re-
tained their ^^allows. their pits, their .lun^cons, holdino^ for
the trial of delin(|uents what were called "courts of franchise".
T^p to a late date, as iSteplien tells us, the lord of the manoi-
still exercised the rij,dit of han^in^^ any one he cauo-ht on his
manor with stolen ooods in his hiiiids. In an Act of 140.S, we
find that Henry IV. forbids the justices any lonj^'er to imprison
dehiKiuents in their own in.stead of in the i-oyal castles. " sav-
ing- always to loi-ds and others their franchises in this case,"
a clear acknowledo'nR'nt that almost up to the commencemei'it
of the modern epoch, justice was not clearly recognised as the
business of the State, the rioht of private retaliation in accord-
ance with local usan-e l)ein^- still enforced by all stron^. ..nou.uh
to claim it. Vet the chan<;us produced in three ceiit'iirics an-
very apparent, if we compare with this the laws oi' Henry I,
wherein the slaui-'hter of a privat.' enemy was perfectly le<,ral,'
.so lono' as the slayer tools none of the dead man's propei^ty!
and went at once to n'ive iid'ormation of the deed at the near.'st
dwellint^'.
During.- these centuries the lawless and disorderly killed
each other uW\ leaving- more room for the peaceable to e.Kpan-l,
and these instinctively pei'ceived that their interests lay in
supporting' the K' 'wiii^- power of the central authority, which
would always be inclined to suppress internal disordei- and
consolidate the military energies of the people for foreion
warfare. Thus the control of the l<injr\s peace ^Taduallv
.spread ; at tir.st applicable only t(j the immediate liousehold
and retainers of the kin^-, it exten.led itself with every
^^eneration, slowly Hupplantinu; in each district the local u^-^a-v
by a body of law consistinj,^ of such cu.stoms as had spread by
L INSTINCT.
hem Hut,'' in the
'I'lic prisoners
rvator when it
> woixh'n caws
^iiiler Edward
iustict's of tlie
tlieni in courts
le such court,
he suppression
lords still rc-
S holdino' foi-
of franchise",
of the manor
cauo-ht on his
ctof UO.S, wc
;er to imprison
castles. " sav-
in this case,"
)nnnencement
jynised as the
ion in aceord-
iti'on^' enough
centuries arc
s of Hein-y I.,
erfectly leyal,
all's property-,
at the nearest
nvlerly killed
lie to expand,
merest s lay in
hority, which
disorder ami
J for foreien
ce ;;Tadually
,te household
with every
e local nsa^e
ad spread liy
THE PREV.\LKN(E OF LAW. 195
their inherent excellence from bein. local to bein,. ..en.raf
n^iKOic to exact tile venneance nf ,],>ofK .-i .
e 1 1 <^"p,<-ani.L or ((eath or muti ation flie
freduni became merely the ordinary Hne such as wf 12 ^
It is to this orif,nn that we must attribut.. the imnerfectlv
moral character of the law T„ .. I . ..1 . • 1 . ""P*- meetly
Dhrases still .„ T.; ! ^''' *'''''' '^''^' old-fashioned
phia c,s stdl su^rg,st that an ortemler is not prosecuted because
h s deed was .vron,., but because it tenlled to provX"
b each of the peace. (Cherry, p. <,4.) Until a very re t ite
the aw ha, no ni.pury to make as to the wicke<ln s ^
-an,s hfe: he mi.dit seduce a score of maidens he mlt
•spend every n,,dit in tlie week witli prostitutes,' he 1
gamble he m.^lrfc ,ie, he nii.ht treat Lis parent wiU "
^ t. ude or his children with tyranny; all these thin.^ w^
ten le,l to bieak the knio-'s peace. How far, then, from the
truth ,s any theory that law is the basis of morals.
X.— Thb: CoruT of .frsTicE.
^y a natural process, alreadv deserJl,..,! .
1 1 i i. i
'■11^
Hi I
i 1
I iH
! (■
I!
196 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
to give a general supervision or concurrent jurisdiction to the
king's courts. After tlie Con.iuest the centralisation of
pov/er continued, and Henry II. appointe.l itinerant judges
whose decisions, backed, wherever opportunity occurred, V
the royal power, began to have a superior weiglit, so that by
the time of Edward I. the old rough and ready trial in the
folk-moot was giving way to trial before the professional
judges, and in the reign of Edward IV., during the fifteenth
century, the old courts wholly disappeared.
A somewhat amusing light is thrown on the transition by
the English custom entitled peine forte, et ffure. Men being
naturally slaves of custom, many preferred to bring their dis-
pntes before their neighbours in the Court of the Hundred,
or before their own lord in the court of his franchise. The
king's authority was incapable of over-riding a cherished
usage, an.l if the accused demanded to be tried in the good
old way. the general feeling of the district would have re-
garded it as tyranny to have denied him his rights. Hence
at first the jurisdiction of the king's courts was merely con-
cum-nt : they could not supplant older means of arbitration ;
they were there to mediate between complainer and culprit
only when these asked for mediation.
By degrees it became more and more common for those
who truly wishe.l for justice to appear before the trained
judges rather than in the rougher local tribunals ; but that
would hardly be the case with a man fully conscious of his
own guilt, and therefore inclined to prefer the chances of
combat, ordeal, or compurgation, before the more ancient
courts, rather than the searching iiKpiiry of the ju(1<a>s
Even when the oM courts had practically died out, the fonu
was still sacredly adhered to, of asking if the man before the
court was willing to submit himself to the king's law. If
for private, and in general no doubt good reasons of his own,
he proved obdurate, it became customary for the judge,'; to
have him shut up until he was willing "to acknowledge the
jurisdiction of the new courts, }n order to .piicken his de-
cision it became customary in Plantagenet times to reduce
his di,-t. and after he had starved (jn a piece of bread one day
an.l a jug of water the next, this alternation going on fo"r
I*
U, INSTINCT.
isdiction to the
ntrali.sation of
iinenint judf^es
y oecuiT(!(l, by
<,dit, so that hy
dy trial in the
le professional
g the fifteenth
e transition by
■e. Jfen being
n-ing tlieir dis-
the Hundred,
ranchise. The
g a cherished
3(1 in the good
'oiild have re-
•ights. Hence
as merely con-
)f arbitration ;
er and culprit
mon for those
•e the trained
rials ; but that
nscious of his
be chances of
more ancient
f the judges.
out, the form
nan before the
ing's law. If
lis of his own,
the judge,'; to
:nowl(>dge the
uicken his de-
nes to reduce
l)read one day
going (jii for
THE PREVALENCE OF L.\W.
some weeks, he was
197
iKd.l legally to put him under tl
% the time of Henry IV. thi
ge.ierally gla,l to say the M-ord tl
le control of tli
■lud a judge might often be detained f
his cu'cuit while a stul
s came to be fV-It a si
lat was
king's court.
)l)orn
or weeks from
bei
ow process,
goiny on
, -isoner
to put the prisoner m a trough or on a floor .„, II i "^
A.ri'fi, ..+ ■ '^ iiooi and oad him nn
loyni couit. It is singularly Hustrative of H,,. l,„
1 ^'^^^ serious case on i-ecard (170(a
the essential T '^ ''^^'^'y "^I'^^vness in estal,lishing
loud ^-^^;"7 o^I"«tice. Indeed, justice is but littl^
hought o even in late times in comparison with the n^^
enance of or.Ier. In Rome, for instance, even n its bst
-lays, an accused person had never a lec-al ri-dit to el
"esses. They might come of their own rccorcM ut th n
not otherwise be summoned Tl, ' '■> ^''"'^^
of a person whose testimony woul.l exone.-.f,. I y'\^y
i'!
ifil
I
; i
^^
f; ;}!..!■.
i f
198 THK ORIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
•Show that their incouies were largely derived from the fines in-
flicted on those they eondennied, and the records of Planta-^enet
tunes (see Pike's Hist, of Hrunr) are full oF con.plain of e
ext^^on of these Judges In France, too, as Lici^Lf t
us the ,ud.UH were paid by gettin;. a share of all the con-
fiscated property of those whon. they condenn.e.l. Such a
ti: rr "" :•"" T "^ ^^ ^""'" -■-«•--* for encoura,in;:
cally not the ann of judges and courts in those days • the
pm^ose was to exact the kin.s vengeance upon th^'wh^
dut s^rT/iM'" "'-" '' "'"• I— t -inunal pro-
Zs R "i:: ^"""' '' '"' "^'^"'^ *" ^'"" personally." So
ah, S r Hen.y Mazne tells us : " The earliest Lrvice of courts
of justice was to furn.sh an alternative to savayvrv not to
suppress it wholly ". '^ ^ ' ^'
whet' l^iif^'n'" r' "' '"'^^^' "^ ^^'^^^^--^ -i-^'- -- "o-
w e,e discernil e. It was not till the year 1494 that a poor
pe son in Eno-land could ask for Justice in a royal couit
Behjre that tnn^ if a widow came hefore a Jud,e to ^L^In
.I»<1^^. But the commencement of the modern period wis
.narked by an Act providing that those who had no mean o
payui, ior justice could thenceforth sue .. fonua ,2:;:,^.
XI.— Infiltration- of Eqi'itv into Law
coin t, there s a slow growth of legal ideas arising out of the
restriction of retaliation, there is moving forward always
perihestic growth of real morality Crutl husban.is I^,e
wives selfish fathers^ eallous mothers, quarrelsome' toth
ami d sloya kinsmen are imperceptibly, yet none the less
-olentlessly being eliminated. Thus, round the liearth, ah
century sees the growth of warmer affections aii<l de e
sympathies; honesty and courtesy, chastity and mu
assisance spring out of inward sentiment, not frn„, outw
ur*^>iMw '
eads.
ard
;al instinct.
roin the fines in-
l.s of Plantaifoiiet
>iiiplaiiits of the
.s xMichelot tell.s
of all the con-
iiniied. Such a
for encoura<rini>-
it was einpluiti-
'lose days ; the
pon tliose who
^ criminal pro-
'ii^'e the viola-
■rsonally." So
rvice of courts
ragvry, n(jt to
ustice was no-
04 that a poor
i roj'al court,
^'e to complain
he fees of tiie
'n period was
I no means of
na pauperis.
iAW.
te, the kin<;''H
i«- out of the
d always the
ids, heartless
»me brothers
•lie the less,
hearth, eaeli
and deeper
ind mutual
3ni outw.'ird
THK PKEVALKNCE OF LAW.
199
Butwlnle the spheres of law and of morality were thus
"ulependent n. their origin it inevitably happem.l that h
leas of each n.vaded the realm of the othej the p.ri es
^^ ..u., aln-ays the first to overHow in thiJ fashio,>
ton t sy lea.nt w.tlun the fanuly spreads outward. Honesty
u 1 he household where it was learnt, but also interco.u-se
^^nh other iannhes round about. The man who has learnt to
rq>-- nnpure desire towards the maidens of his own circle,
mvn mce '^' '"'""'''^" '"' "'^^"'^^^^^'^ ^'^^P^'^t for women of his
Vet, however slow the spread of these feelino-s fn,n. the
I nuly as the centre of their growth, they come eventually to
n.,e the General uleas of a race ; and law, which ori,-inally
had no word to say about infanticide, as beyond the region .^
t .n,us for winch one man nmst seek retaliation a^.iiast an-
other, eventually takes coyni.sance of it
s^ms of moral tee n.. have invaded the aphestlc realn.s
of la^^, I shall very briefly sketch the process in which the
wo -rejit systems of jurisprudence known to the world liave
eeii attested y the intrusion of principles of e.piity. The
«ieat ,sy.steni of Roman law, from which the modern codes of
ontinen al Europe are laro^ly <lerive.l, had its two concurrent
'•oche.. of custom, its civil law which was of aphestic ori-dn
|u.d us natural law which was of perihestic .rowth. So dso
the Kno.l,sh law had its department of connnon law and its
. lepartment of equity the latter havin. been an infiltnuion
of perdiestic morality into the earlier retabatory system
1.1 Home the laws of the Twelve Tables expressed the old
schemes of retaliation ami compensation, and in the .marrels
-c'tween family and family, or individual with in.livi.hial the
|lecisions of comitia or senate forme.l a body of preced'ents
known as a whole under the name of civil law. In later
Hues whei. the power of these assemblies had decayed, new
-dies of ciyi law to meet the alterin. times did not sprino-
•■on. imperial enactments. Romans were as tenacious as
ourselves oi usati-e
aiK
to ask M'hat was to be tl
people did not turn to the
em
peror
m
•
j
-, 'I
i
. 'j
■
■ 1
>
I ' ■
10 new departui-e of law, but always
\i:i.
|t
,f
hi
if! i: :
i^n
ill ;J
1
:.
't'
, if* :|
,'1'
i . i
■ I fl
! I
'|l
200 THE „„,.,^- ,,.„ „„„„,„ „^ ,^,^_, ^_^^^^^ ^^^^^^^^
inquire.! .rftho !„,„, ,„.«,.„ „,,Ht l,.„l ,,„.„ «,„ „,«,„,„. ,„• „,,,
laiiiui ,„ tlio l,nv, coi.tiiiueil iii, to the veiv en.l „f fl,
™,,,,-e t,, ,u.e ,.U the fc-ee of 1,L themselv^^, / , I
p^,»«i,„it.,toe,;;-;.;;":,:tn::;:,t.::;;;
a ere. hy the unpenal wil!. (,„ th. contrary a .kx-r.. f
Anu-ustns, re-enacte,l a century lat.r l.y H.,Iri. n 1
on tl.e opinions of the learne.l doctoxl ^ i-n i h n """i'
one another the tV.rce of hnvs. ( PosI^^ , ' """ ; ! "•^''
P; '■^^■. rf. Ramsay's /^.., ,1,,,^^, ^^^ ^Zu^ rJ-'''''^
v.ees c^ e.nperors left little trace\n the law^ X Lt :^.;;:
mouon oatherin^' volume as t went " T^wl .,.fi .
.-«;. K,, with the „..,„„„ of C.,™e,Uh, ,„:;'L i„C v' "'■"
me..eha„t» besa,, to vi»it K„,„„ „■,„, t^" ntfe h '"
:rt,:t;::rs;;:::;^i:^::,:!;--">i;-'- ■-
af «!•«+ ... II i^uiiuiiunitj. All toroii>-ners were
wi.e„ the ,ett,e„,e„t of .nerihr^J';;;;;; .rt^.^tt;'
•{ 'ooun^r. An. I yet they were entirely outsi.I.. of th^
protecfon of the existing, law. (Maine, AneLt fJl ^ 4'
A kniess „.an existed only on sufferance an.on. the strom
fa.n.ly assoc.at.ons of the place. And yet thexe s no him
.nore ensen.al to the merchant th.„ secuHty for Hf^a d^^
L IXSTIXCT.
cnstonis of old
i.st'ls ui' tlioso
•y en.l of the
L's; tlu'y were
r the decisions
a h'ttle to suit
or the I'utiu'e.
leseeiidauts oF
■1- of the eiii-
"er luateriiilly
', a decree of
an, oont'eiTed
aniioiiy wjtli
il teeliiio-s ()]•
cli Were thus
111 unlirokeii,
weakest and
' neat (if jus-
'apiuiau and
paink'ct are
listers."
■Ill of eiuiet-
'II vast and
i the expan-
heii forei^ni
rt-'in, a new
h'i'n wholly
'n niemhers
i^-ners were
ti;;-ation of
lal ti-adiu;.;',
orders was
on a more
*i<lf' of the
IOC, p. 4«.)
the stroiifr
is iiothino-
e and pos-
THK PREVALENCE OF LAW.
201
session
view \\
Ent
erprise is paralysed by tnioertainty as to th
I'ich will be taken in the land whicl
in re^rard to the contiscat
1 a merchant visiti-
amount (jf toll or t
ion or plunder of his property, the
all
is tl
txes that will 1
owed his ship to secure harl
>)o levied, the access to b
Ills easy to understaml 1
arbours and suitai)le whar
■ves.
low, a
t K
It
oine
tl
th
-l.^CKdh.dl mercantile suits, should, at the be,inn:,;l;r":^
;. . olofhce, wnte upon a certain white wall fen- the .^.idan e
ol lorei,n.ers the forn.s to which lie M-ould adhere ^d he
pnnciples as well as n.any of the details of hi 'i „.'
a.hn,n.strat.m of co,nn.ercial Justice. (Ramsay, H.T^
t^ot^c., p. 248.) But the pr.etor never n.a.l.. anv startlin-
"novations: lie took the edict of his predecessor 'with s h
nail onnssions or additions as the trend of n.ercantile sa!^
"««este.l. A copy of the pnetor's edict for the vear thus
becune an authoritative statement of the law app ie bl o
till the whole was di^usted am! consolidated into the we 1-'
known Salvian edict.
knclrf "^V"'"''' '^''' ^^" ''" 'Vm^^-^e of legislation, we
know that, as Ramsay expresses it, "these ma^dstrates could in
no sen.se be re^anled as lawgivers ". The Institutes of J u i i "
xpi-essly state that the laws thus promul,-ated ..e u^ u
st;it. s that the edicts were fonne.l out of slowly ^a-owiuir bodies
Y:^T "^r 1'^"^'^'' '''' ''- anni^rprocllunl:
y t th y poasessed a character that marke.I them off from all
IHc cedents of retaliation, ma.le the features of the svstem
^zTr r'T r '"'•"^■- -'-•' '-^-- ^ ';
am H, the family, and whereon, far more than on retalia-
0, harnioiHous relations were seen to be founded, becln^
^^: "' 'V^^^^"' ^' '''^' -^-'•-' to att..ct the iucrat":
^ at traffic ot all nations, so alongside of the old civil law
here j,..ew up the new bo,ly of wliat was called "Natural
Uv^ Ihe one spra ., at of the old retaliatory system the
other from more fratei. .ideals. ^-^em, ine
li.'
% .
*-
♦ i
)!i
H ■
202 THE ORIGIN AM. (GROWTH OF THK MORAL IXSTINCT.
But ,v. learn From Cicoro an.l other writers that the un-
wn en law the jus vnn srrij.Uun, the General l-at va^ue
ttchno. of what was just and reasonahle, always atfecte.l the
a.hnnns ration ot the estal^lished law, an.l constantly .leter-
imne,l the course oF new custon.s destined eventually to find
then- place n. law. These changes were, perhaps, as Maine
M^sts, hurned on by the introduction oF Greek philosophic
not.ons wherein, as in Plato's laws, the Fraternal aspect oF
ju.st,ce alternates with that oF retaliation between armcHl n.en
C.cero, n> Ins JJe f.ylhus, insists upon treating, all n.e,i as one
great connnonwealth, holdino. that to ea h oF then, there shoul.I
l.e apphcable certain rules oF rio-ht to be Found in every honest
•'..nd He has thus in view -'one Justice by which hun.an
society ,s boun.l to^vther, an.l which is .establish...! by the one
law ot s.)un.l reason, and iF any one io^ores this he is unjust
whether the law be anywhere written or not" This 'is a
clann to the paramount sway oF a certain ethical i.leal, wliose
'as,s was not that oF public law. the returnino. oF evil For evil
l)Ut that oF perd.estic harmony, which is to return o-oo.l F.>r ..■oo.i '
\\ .• se.- the same iuFusion oF perihestic i.leals into aphestic
law amon^_ the Greeks iF Aristotle is a safe guide, For in the
Pold>cs (,n., 10) he maintains that "the moral law is Far
.superior to the wr .n law," and this, taken along with his
sta ement that "retaliation does not tit in with the i.lea oF
justice (Et/ur^, v., 5), would imply a moral sense that has
grown up in.lepen.lently oF all legislation. Aristotle tells us
how difficult It is to atiect people by laws impose.l upon them,
ior they do not easily change, but love their own ancient
customs (iv., ,5).
The Mosaic law sutiered the same modiKcation. Think of
Its provisions in regar.l to poly^^amy and concubinage an.l
the leva-ate: oF its regulati.ms For inadvertent manslaughter
and the vengeance oF blood, its water oF jealousy and its
treatment oF .slaves, and its rules „F warfare. Among the
Jews OF the tune oF Christ all these were aboli.shed o. pro-
tound y modifie.1. IF we ask why it so happene.l, we Hnd no
amenchn^ legLslation, no supplementary codes to authorise the
change : there is nothino- to account For it but the intrusion oF
Kleas ot equity into tlie legal tlomain.
L LVSTINC'T.
s that the un-
ral Ijiit VH^'Ue
)'.s attected the
i.stantly dt'ter-
ntually to Hnd
iipN, as Maine
'k philosophic
•nal aspi'ct of
n armed men.
ill men as one
II there sliould
I ever}' honest
tvhieli Jiuman
3(1 by the one
he is unjust,
I ins IS a
ideal, wliose
' evil I'oi' evil,
;'ood i'or ^ou(\.
into aphestic
le, for in the
il law is far
)no- with his
the idea of
rise that has
iotle tells us
1 upon them,
own ancient
1. Think of
ibinaf^e and
ianslau<;hter
usy and its
Among the
hed or pro-
, we Hnd no
ithorise the
intrusion of
Ai
THi; PREVALENCK f)F LAW.
ii'ong the barbarian peoples of the early n.ed
208
l)eriods in Europe, the rude ret
iieval
artected by tlu; ready
ilit;y
aliatory laws wert- strongly
how
I out
accessil
-,u..^ w.uen easily gave accurate expression to
ethical notions as they arose. Savigny has shown
erroneous is the current view that Roman law was m
of existence at the overthrow of the empire. (G.sr/urht. ,/.s
Kvvin'rV'^"o:;r'-' "'-l ^''-^-l--' ^^l- .lemonstrates
(xxMi, 4, 6, 7, 9 that it Hourisled for centuries in accor,!-
unce with the barbarian idea that each man should be jud^^ed
•'.N- the law to which lie was born. To give etiect to tliis
■system, many of the Teutonic khigs in the sixth and seventh
centuries caused comp.ndinms to be made of the Tlieodosian
code for the use ol their K„nian subjects
I" pmportion, therefore, as etJiical principk-s arose to
•nodify the old systems of retaliation, the barl,arie codes
gradually absorbed from the ohl Roman law such fragments
or general n.,tions as applied to the new feelings. At first
no d Hibt, there was little in the mercantile orderliness of
Roman law that was adaptable to the bloo.lstained violence of
the days of Chilperic or Charles Martel : and yet after tive
centuries of fermentation, during which huge molecular
changes were occurring, and in which the family unit had
vanished to give place to the allegiance unit, the continental
aws present a composite character in which the principle of
barbaric retaliation is strongly tinged with Roman enuity.
Guizot remarks (ii., 222) that i„ the capitularies of Charle-
•nagne one may see the slow intilf.ation of moral ideals,
Jl"' e distinct from all that had previously formed the law of
barbaric codes. About 7 per cent, of his legislation consists
o such ,n.,unct.ons as these: "All men should practise hos-
pitahty, or "keep clear of theft, of unlawful marriage of
bearing false witness ". It is evident that these maxims 'are
hical inasmuch as they appeal to men's conscience ; they
aie not legal, tor m that case the penalty would be the central
rt?aturti.
Thus by M.e twelfth century a strong tinge of morality
was be iuund in all the legal systems of Europe. In such
a code as the Assize of Jerusalem, we find that though the
i.f
.^\.}
m :
:! *i
■J
H
h; :
^' i
a
m
%
V. '
■'^'
ml>-
^■^^^H|
^H '
■ ^^'
i 1
204 THK ORIGIN ANI, OROWTH OF THK MORAL INSTINCT.
Teutonic wergild, '^ ^"'"'" "^"'^^' ^'''"' *" ^h^
t u.ust he .l,s,.,.Ik..l by the fact oF the stea.lv -Towth^)! 1'
avvyer class in the thirteenth cent.uT The ri e': 1
i."" ', ' """P-;-"""" ■•"•-■■■.l ajM« h-on, courts „,.
. "'I„is Ui,t n, i,i„|„„.„„„ „s »„c|„tj. jtrcw more ,,ttk..l n.
olio •; ;"'"""," ""■ "^""' «""■»"".». i,„v,. 1 ™
been slowlv snlvi 1 ? ''"' I"""'^'^'"^ ^N'ould luive
It was iii.iler these circuir-, ■..,.. ., ,. .i
the i . ■''eeretanes, the agents, the attorneys of
tne ,( ,y. lo cases not provided for in flw. 1 1 . "^
Keci tncu May to positions of authority.
L INSTINCT.
THK PliKVALKNTF. OF LAW.
to the l....„ch. un.l th. chancdlnrship its.if, th.v snce....l,..l
.n tl.o course of two or three ce„turi..s in j^ivin-Ztn ,..,„itv a
sort ot concurrent .,uris.h-etion with the o|,l eon.n,.,n hiw 'on
a. continent the new systen. was .U-stine-l to overshadow
Hltooether the oM. and the codes now prevalent there are
direct descen.lants of that oM nuxture of civil and natural
law which the Roman co.les presented. In Knuland th. T,ro-
Ofss has h..en diHerent. The ancient local customary law held
IZV ''^ '"■" '"'''''' '"^ '^'""^^'•'" ^'^'^ «i--^'
CO Its, there o.rew up courts of e.juity which ad uinis ered,
not exact y the Roman law, hut the traditions and „recedent
wlneh or,o.n.ally ha.l had the Roman law lor the source o
their inspn-ation.
It is important to hear in mind this distinction. 'V it is
clcu ned t e Roman law or any part of it to I;e an efi;.ctive
1-^...J of the aw of the land. Eveiy maxim intro-C
tiom the ancient jurisprudence came in fortified with hut the
oiie sort of sanction, its harmony with ..owin,. reason and
^^nh the more delicate sympathies nursed around the tin .ide
^or m tns process was there any strict confinement to
•naxuns of Roman law. Into the new hody of emiity t -re
was absorbed a laro-e amount of usage which had notlin- to
commend it but an antecedent sense of justice
It is not to be concluded that common 'law was there-
fore unnifluenced by the growin.. spirit of morality. White
protes.sm^. to be forever the same, to be handed down ru-
ehanged from anti.juity, it was slowly chan^ino. as our I)o.lies
chano.e, ,ts identity unaltered, but its substance in a com ?
t.on ol imperceptible withdrawal and renewal. Every case
that arises has some infinitesimal .liflerence from eveiT pre
vious case, and every triHinj.. difibrence offers a scarcely appreci-
able opportun^y of interpreting according to the newei spirit
of the a,-e. Hence in dealino- with the most common and
tmpient class of cases a .series of infinitesimal alterations takes
place, and as the integration of a suf ' -ntiy large number of
inapprecial)le alterations produces an a, .,reciable c!iange,.so at
le end of ^v. centuries a common law system that had never
been seen to change in any decade may be wholly trans-
I ilil
'ff
k
m
■i H r
'■'l-l
I I ■ ! ' 6 i
ni
it
ii
20<5 THK OKKHN ANI. OHOWTH OP THK MORAL INSTINCT.
fonne,!. K„t it is a nuvuifest token of the process which
I am here .lescr.bi,.,. that up to the year 1887 Enln. a
s tM.> .hstinct systems of law, one the eonnnon h^ p"
an.I „ tact hohhn^. hy unbroken .leseent from the ven n-ful'
retahat,on of fan.ily against fa„n-iy: the other pro es"t,
(leahny- between man and man.
_ These maxims of .,,uitN were at tirst of weak ertect as
ben., n.novat ons and therefore wanting in au L t^ bu
each decision torn.e.l a precedent, so that in the court o a
ew centuries the new ideas became as ri^-id as the old n I
m course of time English e,uity began t^ sl.^^l ^.m i^^^
CO nnon law. Sir Henry Maine says (AnrAent Leo, ;
It I. eas.ly seen by the English lawyer that EnglLsh enuitv >i
a^stem Ujunded on nioral rules ; but it is i.rgoUeii tlX^
rues e the morality of past centuries, not of the present-
e c.n n 7 'Tr' '"'''-'y '' "'"^'' ^^PPli-tio" as they'
i^^rt;: ir''tr^v''''"f • -'■ ^""^^'^' *^^ •'« -^ -'^^
iai^cl^ om the ethical creed of our own day, thev are not
neoessarily on a level with it ". The ertect of fi n tlie 1"
was to make the two systems approximate; e.piity t^ ^^l:
:::::;'' t] ''\ ^y- ^^ "^^^^^ ^^-'"'^ ^^e commr r^
much as to make ,t more aiul more the semblance of ...aiitv
^o great practical change, therefore, was felt when ii ; fe
two were formally amalgamate.l. *^'''
If It were permissible to turn this ina<le,,uate, and perhaps
>.o always accurate, sketch into a .letailed history ten tin
-long. It would grow manifest beyond all douU M ^
a never been the source of morality ; but that into law tht
has been a sCw, Init steady infusion of moral ideals woe
ongin has to be sought in a wholly dirtl-rent atmospt;e^
XII.—Lau' as a Refoumatouv Aoent.
TJiough law is in its origin essentially retaliatory yet nt .
tolerably early stage it assumes to some extent thicharacte'r
\'t
^ INSTINCT.
process which
En^rhmd liad
ion law, pro-
test aiiti((uitv.
the veni^roful
n-ofessino- not
pies of even
eak effect as
iithority, but
''■i course of a
tlie old, and
iis musty as
^Mtv, p. (jf)) :
lish e(piity is
-"n that tliese
;lie present ;
ion as they
o not (litter
hey are not
e, therefore,
y iissuniin^r
inon law of
the time so
i of ('(juity.
in \HH7 the
nd ])erliaps
y ten times
t that law
> law there
'hIs, whose
)here.
THE I'REVALENCK OF LAW.
•207
■', 3-et at a
charactei-
of a deterre,vt. When a man takes vengeance for an injurv
e pa t, but a so ^ a o-Hn, resolution to prevent a repetition in
the future. As Plato puts it (Prota.oras, ^ m : ' He wh
endeavours to pun,sh with reason does not exact ven.^eance f
^ ;ml T^ f™-/'""'"^ ''^^^ ^^^^" done.7.ecanno
make undone), but for the sake of the future, that neither
his man lumself nor any other who sees him punished n.ay
a<<'ani thuik unjustly". ' "i.iy
andtliat xeny-eance was then- fundan.ental purpose, but the
law as a terror to evil-doers n.ust have been a„ incipient id.a'
even at he veiy first; an.l the deterrent character iventuali;
ershadowe<l the other feature. Nevertheless, the prinntive
Idea still buyers n. considerable strength. Only thul can we
understan.] the current notion that a n.an ca.I "expiate In's
crane, as if an injuiy were somethino. that could be cancelk.!
by a certani amount of subsetpient sutferino-
s.n.7 <''^^' -f ^'V'"'^- "" ^''' "" ''^•"''^"^"^' C'><^>-iy when he
^n s . I he Idea of punishment as deterrent ami reformatory
s ,u,te modern ' The truth is that law was at f^rst onh- the
-leh.ution of retaliatory customs, but that at an .arly dat; the
Kh- ot -leterrent ert'ect supervened, while the no'tion of re-
'onnatory ettect, thouo.ht a]>straetly pivsent in such expivs-
s.ons a. U horn th.. Lord loveth he chasfeneth," was vet no
consistent purpose of the hnv until within th. last centiiu-y or
Early huv was little concern...! with tlu- fVrocitN- ,lis,.lay,.,|
..private vengeance. Its sole business M-as to prev.'nt re-
-^.^' rom passing into feu.I,an.nVu.l int.. chronic warfa.v.
i^ It .t the injurer were too poor to pay the composition which
he aw speei.l, he was left to such mutilatio.; or such forn.
of spee.|y or torturous death as seem-.l o.,>od to the injured
person. •'
When the Stat.-. Generally in the person of s.nne kino-
undertook to inflict the retaliation, ferocity was still a v. i^
P';"n.i..eut feature, not only f„r the purpos.- of satisf^.in... th.^
.".lural person but also to deter others from acts that temle.l
to a breach of the kind's peace. Monstrous cruelties were
iii
Ail
•lit'
vt
fl
1
ii
/fl
■■■■-.
It I
■ 'i'
t
208 THK OKICtIN and GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
inriicted in the name of Justice in all states of the barbaric or
lower civilised <rrades, an.l still are perpetrated in existent
conununities at these stao-es. It is only in recent times that
the nations most hiohly advanced have ceased to rely on the
infliction of terrible sutierin<rs as their only means of \eeping
order. Stephen ,|U()tes from the reo-isters of the rei-ni o1
Queen Elizabeth to sh.nv that 800 persons were then Imn-ed
ni Enuland each year, and if the same rate were now in fcrrce
for the increased population of the British Isles, it would ^We
10,400 per year instead of the seventeen which ha^ been^'the
average annual number durin^r all the rei^ni of Qu.h ; Victoria
In the time of Henry VUl a poisoner was jjublicly boiled
ahve ni London, and only last ce.itury in France ii would-be
regicide was torn limb from limb by horses. Up to 1832, all
French criminals convicted of the crime of parrici.le had their
rioht hands cut (jtf l)efore they were beheaded. In all European
lands until a century and a half a-o, the chopper and block of
the hanoinaii wei-e in constant occupation, and showed the pre-
dominance of a pure spirit of retaliation in the administration
ol justice ; for it never could be supposed that to cut ott" the
riyht hand of a thief was the way to help him to earn an
honest livinj.-. The crimitial laws of the sixteenth century had
the one consistent but ferocious course ; when the ortender
came up, he was Hoo-n-ed, branded, or nmtilated, then tluny-
aside, and when almost of necessity he came up a{,niin he wa's
executed and so put out of the road. The jn-ocess was one of
utility to us, ioi- „f every thousand infants l)oni and reared
beyond th.. peri(jd of childhood, Hve were thus on the averayv
withdi-awn by hanuinj.-. Now as these nnist on the wlidc
have been of the less desirable type, the oain in ^-eneral in-
heritance of moral disposition would be very considerable.
None the less, tlie laws were undesirable which cairicl out
this process.
_ In our time, tli.- success of our efforts to reform our
crinnnals is very iiuicb more prol)lematical. When a no-
torious thJH' was hanovd, his earc-r was for a certainty
close.l, and in a woi'ld of stru^'u^K, amon^' competing' types he
lelt I'oini! for his Iicttovs to si
bal)l\- not Ol
-I tread. Ai
le eiimnial
aon^' oursei\-es, i
»ni-
Hi twenty underi^oes any essential
L INSTINCT.
he barbaric or
-'<] in existent
ent times that
to rcl}^ on the
ms of keeping
the reign of
e then lianged
i now in force
it would give
I lias been the
|uet; Victoria,
iiblicly boiled
:e .-' would-be
1) to 1832, all
cide had their
I all Eui'opean
• and block of
owed the pre-
dniinistration
to cut off" the
II to eai-n an
1 century- had
the oH'ender
1, then Hung
again he was
ss was one of
1 and reareil
1 the average
n the whole
I general in-
considerable,
cai-ried out
rel'orni oui'
^Vlien a iio-
a certainty
iiig types he
:rselves, [iio-
iiy essential
THK l'lij;VALK\(K OF LAW.
209
change o character even in an Ehnira prison : the other nine
t en contnme to eat and drink and wear out clothing p , 1 i
at pubhc expense: that is. they ultin.ately n.ay 1,: eek. n
niitd. ^e IS our present c(.urse the nobler an.l worthier
It has witbn rt the lofty n.orai principle of in an"
J-etunung good for evil, and it proclaims that he toZ:Z;
has abandoned its old selHsh policy of nure retnli! ,
+i,.,f. u ■ 1 ,„ • ^ . 1 ""^J <J' puio letaliation, and
t at t ,s learmng to see n, the crin.inal, not only the in urer
but also the human being with canacitv for «„«• '
though with sn,all power o^fself-coX' """'"'^ """
Ihe story of the growth of ohat sentiment which seeks to
reform the otien<ler, which no lon-er takes the lif^^ f- i
wl.has.bb.lusj.utusestheris::tw;-r^^^^^^
means of donig him good, would be singularly su..- st "e o
e na ural development of syn.pathy in^.ecent ye^; td o
iT^tTr-y ''''''-'' f'^-- fi^titlenj;!
vc see that it is the average ethical sentiment of the -onle
which gives to the law its moral tin-e and tint ..V^
never an external instrument of in;;:; g: J: ^
people, though it may be employed by a major yo? better
tjTeni forcing the inferior types to conform to'its L:! !:Z
We, therefore, have to reverse the old se.,ue„ce current
ulf a century ago. Kant tells us .Introd. to Metap^Zc^
Morals chap. ,.) that morality consists in the agreem
ones actions with ethical laws, and .>aley sees the :^ ^^ :
he distinction between right and wrong in a universallv
>:-iuig law. A little familiarity with the course "It^
j-tory, ightly skinuned with an an.ateur hand t :!
t ee ast chapters, would have shown them that laws a
only the expression of the moral i.leal which the ■. •
read.ed, ethical laws being in their o^i: ^ i t,'*; 'Z
iHuu y„,udicial laws being the ideal of public orde.^
Morality is, the'refore. no oHsprin-' of th,- l..w ■ if •
..,.„ w.,ieh „.„ «,.„„.,, , ,_,,:^,, ,»,;'U,"',, ':,„::!
a» a natural consoquonc, of tl,„ n„.,l,, „r ,,„,i„| ,:,,"„ :"'
VOL. n. "^* ["f nitelhgence ui individuals;
I I
4
♦if
N't'
'li
n
i .?
li
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PM
210 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OV THE MORAL INSTINCT.
of the solidly harmonious type of peaceful fHendliness in
society. These are the successful types: they survive, and
theii- inferior competitors ^o out. Law is nothinjr more than
a mere artificial contrivance for lielpinj,' to methodise and
re<,nilate a process which would <ro ,„i without it, thou<,di
materially assisted by it.
The process of moral development, as I see it, has been a
slow dawnin<r of parental sympathy passinj,'' by deyrees into
more ^^eneral sympathy, whence arises a simple and natural
morality which is strengthened and deepened by the growth of
the sense of duty and other accessory developments of sym-
pathy. Out of the morality thus enj^^endered springs wliat-
ever is moral in law, though, fundamentally, law is not moral
but retaliatory.
i'
it
, INSTINCT.
riendliness in
survive, and
ng more than
letliodiwe and
ut it, tliou<,di
it, has been a
' dej^rees into
i and natural
the <;-rowth of
lents of sym-
iprings what-
r is not moral
211
CHAPTER XXII.
THE NEKVOUS BASIS OF THK KMOTIONS.
Emotion Ahises fuom Bodilv .STiMrns.
Tk it bo true that in the preceding- cltapters the foundation
ol all moral feehno. ],a. been traced to those emotions of sym-
pathy, winch ni parent, spouse, an.l friend, have had so strong
a preservative value in the development of races, then our
natural cunosity centres round the ,,uestio.. as to the physio-
logical ruiture oi these emotions. What is there in the bodily
structure ot a niother that bids her thrill at si.ht or touch of
her little one that melts her to tenderness at its voice and
ouses her to fierce effort at its .lan.^er ^ What is there in the
body o the youth that will make him confront lions, or swim
.lark streams or toil lon^. years in forei^m lan.Is to win the
snn le ol a maiden ^ What bodily excitability is it which will
send a man with cheerfulness to lose his life on behalf of his
country or to plunov h,,,,lon. into the fatal fight to rescue
the coinra.le who lies fallen and trampled ?
In proper order it is a question antecerlent to all that have
yet been discussed in this book. Neverthele. s the iaro-or share
of Its importance .lepends on the conclusions alrea.ly reached
and, therefore, whatever of interest it possesses mu.'t be more
'■Hsdy seen in tins conelmlini,. part than in the beginnin.. I
Have been chielly inclined, however, to place the discussicm in
l.is ,nverted_ position, Ijecause, while all that govs before an-
-•s to me .1 It. broad features to be the statement of ci
t.un les, theie will be some small admixture, perhaps in the
opinion o nuuiy a very consi<lerabie infusion, l.f t^lZZ
tive m what is to follow. The reader will possibly feel him-
-self overwhelmed with a ,lelu,.e of undoubted facts, yet decline
1 in
!
!ii:!
m
W
: ti i
r^
1
I
1 I
•21;
riiM ourcix Axn cuownr of Tirr;
MoiiAii rxsTrxcT.
witliout soinc protest to dniw IVnin tliciii the
after to I)e iiKlicated. Tliat, li
coiH'hisimis liei'e-
ast till certain not
uiniatural
lowever, will, ni my opniion, only
la-ejudices wear away, aft
wl.idi lie is more tlian likely, at least so 1 tin-nk, to a.l
ei-
, . init
then- oomMiC'V.
Synipatliy Ix-in-- only a part of our ..reneral eniotional
natnre. its physioionMcal basis cannot he studied without
considenno- the oeneral foundation of all our emotions, ami
ni the two following- chapters I hope to ustahlish th(> .-•eneral
pi'oposition, that em.)tions, on their physical side, co.hsist of
alterations in the vasculai' tone of the l)ody.
1 am fai- from assertino- that these bodily chan^vs provid.,
in thems,.lves the compl.>t-> history of any emotion : for that
would be to iu'norethe mysterious chasm that lies between th.i
physical and the psychic. It may, no .loubt, bo absolutely
accurate to say that the sense of si^dit is on its physical side a
cortani molecular motion imparted by lio-ht to delicate ele-
ments of the retina, and thonco transmitted by the optic nervo
to the cells of the o.iter brain layers, yet that explanation
i.s a.nnittodly nicomplete till we have duly allowed for tlu,
psychic side of the phenomenon. In the case of all our senses
we follow a subtle chain of bodily alterations, till we lose it in'
a certain tract of as yet impenetrable ul„om. But across that
niist-wrapt unlf we carry our olance, an.l there, in a clear but
luuittamable Held beyond it, we reco^-nist! that very train of
boddy chan^-es, transformed to ehanoes of conscious con.lition.
I propos.', similarly, to follow up the emotions on their
bodily si.le, reluctantly but inevitably losin^' them in that
same ^'loom, and yet recou'nisinu- them auain on the other side
ni the clear reu^icn of consciousness, j mean to show, for
example, that anner consists primarily of a certain bodily
se.iuence in which, as the result of tvrtain nerve stimulations,
the yreat viscei-al blood-vessels are sharply contracted. In'
consciuence of this the bloo.l Hlls with a hard stron..- pulse
all the surface vessels of the body. Hence arises '"an in-
creased metabolism, and the muscles are supercharf,red with
ener-y that is capable of boin^r discharj-ed in explosions
followed by general lassitude. In this view, however I shall
not Ignore, but only for the time being neglect, the conscious
- rXSTINCT.
elusions licre-
opinioii, only
• iuvay, after
ink, to admit
■ai I'liiotioiial
iici] witlicjut
'motions, and
li the o-cnoral
Ic, consist of
n^'cs providi!
ion : for that
i l)('t\\H'(.'n the.
Mi al)solutL'iy
'lysical sidi; ji
I delicate elc-
e optic nervo
explanation
)we(l for tlio
II our senses,
we lose it in
it across that
u a clear hut
'ery train oi'
us condition.
;)ns on their
lem in that
lie other side
)o show, foi'
rtain Iwdily
stimulations,
racted. In
stront;- pulse
irises an in-
liari^ed with
I explosions
ever, I shall
he coiisciouM
'I'lii-; xiwfvofs liAsis
Ol' THK KMOTIo.NS.
A
Phus..s_0l anovr which se.n. to h,. .K,,ived fron., though so
mystenously d,trer..nt from, th- corresponding, l.odily states
n u prehnnnary l.ro.,1 dassitieation w. n.av notice that
all h,. simple .motmns naturally fall into two .li'visions those
that exalt and those that .[..press th.. I....lily pow.Ts. Th.-s..
nnot.ons ..xist iH.caus,. it has at all ti.nes l.een essential for
the pr..s,.rvat...n of an animal that it shoul.l son,..times h.
stn.Hi late,l to assert itself to the utmost, sometinu.s 1„. in.luc.l
to w.th.Iraw ,tself from .lane-er. Such .>p..rations n.ust tak.-
pace H, automatic fashion, .,r ..Is., they ar.. us..l,.ss. Wh.n
the rahlnt peeps forth IVom it.s lHnT.,w an.l s..,.s a fox skulk
in- m the bracken har.l l.y, or when it sees the sha.lou- „f th."
hawk n.ovn.o. on the o.,a.ss, the prohle.n must !.y n.. nn-ans i,e
l.'lt t.^i- th.. nnn.l to .leci.!.- whether to a.lvanc.. or r..tire \
reflex actmn setth-s tlu- .natier. Th.. loss of a secon.l or l..ss
will m.an .l.-struction : an.l a o-lanc.. that lasts only a sn.all
Inict.on ol a secon.l is sufficient to .lamp ,l..wn all the vital
e.ierou,s of the creature, an.l l.i.l it slink hack into security
And the wh.,le safety of a.> animal of this tin.id class lies
n. the excessive susce,,tihility of its n.-rves to this sort of
«U-pressn>o. action. There is n.. interference of thou^dit in
the process ; the eye receives in that one look a stimulus
which not only pro.luces a .leHnite an.l co-or.Iinated muscular
response but also shuts .low., the vital powers, an.l this bo.lily
co.i.l.t^.o.. subse.p,ently .-eports itself in c.„.scious.,ess as fear
W .ether for exaltati<.n ,.,• .lep.'essio.., the action of the"
stimulus ,s ciually automatic. Suppose th it a terrier is
eatn.o. l^s .hnne,. when a cat approaches to Hid. f,-o,n the
pla e. .\ow .t has been a., esse.itial <,f ,lon. existence for lonir
cycles ol years that each sh.,ul.l be able to ass...l its ow.i
1 f,d.ts. One Klance at that furtiv.. cat alte.-s th.- whole con-
..titution of the teiTier, whose bloo.l be^ri„,s to course with
vmlence, whose surface ten.pe.'atu.-e rises, whose every muscle
^n-ows te..se, inclu.liny- the muscles of the larynx, so that the
easy breath...^- beco.....s co..verte.l into a low ^n-owl At
every nearer approach the bodily effects on the do<. become
exa,^.^.ei.ate,l till he .larts forth, and his ..ein.,-n.uscular st.vss
oxpMes n. a violet attack. But if the te.Ti..r while eatin-r
Ins dinner shoul.l catd. a ,i,dimpse of s<.methi,.^r ,vhich aj^
l':l
H
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l! *.
1
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'214 THK (HiKUN AM) C
HOWTJI OF TIIK M()l;.\|, rXSTINCT,
jtroiiclicd, mill, looking- up, r
cc()<riii.s('(l a liuov iiuvstifi; tlu-n tli
stiiimlus would hiivi' a wliol!^- ditrcrcMt stoi-y: d
heart's heat, Ix'coiuin
iS <
tlio tail drops, the head dccli
luii'Iv hut IVchIc, tl
own o(„.s the
If iiiusek-s I't'lax.
All
IK'S, and the aiiiniai slinks hack
animals are o^WUM with this douhlc set of
hilities, the one capahle ol' (iriiin> tl
sell-assertioii wouhi he to tlioir advaiit
susccpti-
«• them up wliiMV cncro'v and
damping,' them down where these tl
It
i;;-!', the other of
ti
nuns would mean destruc-
tion, it is as in a pianoforte where the toueh of one pedal
releases the full sound of the treml.lino- wiivs, while the touch
ot th.. other shuts them all down. An.l just as the musical
effect will 1h. dependent on two thii.os, H,.st on the ready
action of the internal mechanism, and secondly on the appli-
cation of an external pressure, so, in an animal's hody an
oinotion will depend Hrstly on the local supplies of I'.erve
force, and the readiiie.ss with which they can he released, and
secondly on the nature of the stimulus hy which these are
actuated. A man, throui-h disease, or drink, or overwork,
may have his hody in a con.lition so morl.idiy excitahle that
a small stimulus not ordinarily capahle of castin- one into
a Ht of aneer, or into a state of nielanclioly, will h- (piiti.
surticieiit to ren.U'r him purple witli pa.ssion or pale with
morhid apprehension.
This hodily predi.spositioii to emotion is well reco.-nised
and often utilised. The j-eiieral who wishes his .soldiers to
rtj-'ht well will try to have them warm, well fed, and comfort-
ahle on the niornino- «f the combat. When their hodies are
thus prepared easily to assume tlie choleric condition wIkm-
conraoe is thereby readily excitable within them, he is wise to
eive them the proper stimulu.s. An iutlammatoiy haramni,.
in which their murdere.l wives and flamino. homes or som.i
such picture may arouse the self-as.sertivo instincts, will send
them into battle with pulses lioundino-, and eyes lit up by the
tension of the muscles behind them. If the ^reneral can show
them a few mutilated bodi.-s of their countrymen they will
cast them.selves on the foe with irresistible fury.
On the other hand, many a battle has beeii'lost because an
army rose to face it after a comfortless ni<rht; if thev luive
stood too Um^r in wet clothes, if their last few meals have
. r\s'i'(\('r,
^tiff, tlifii the
lowii n(„.s the
Hisck-s i-fla.\,
slinks hack.
: of susc'cpti-
■(' ciifi'^y and
till' otluT of
lU'iui (Ifstruc-
ol' one pedal
lilc the touch
s the musical
'U the i-eady
on the appli-
I's I)()dy, an
ies oi' nerve
I'eloasod, aiiil
ch these are
r overwork,
ccitable that
H^' one into
ill lie ([uite
1- pale with
1 rec()i;'nised
i soldiers to
nd comfort -
r 1 todies are
lition, when
le is wise to
y haran^'Ue,
leis or some
;s, will send
t up hy the
al can show
n they will
because an
they have
ucals have
TIIM XKItVol-S liASIS OK THK KMOTrONS. '21')
Wn sca.,ty, it is almost useless to t,y the eHect of stin.ulus
i.eir bo.hes are unHt lor the reaction of courajro. A hot
.Innk supplied all ro.md to a cavalry re^n.nent half an hour
l'.'lore the tune to char^.e mieht easily add half as nuich
a,i^an. to tlje spirit of the onslaught. The orio.i„al „se
ot all en.ot.on was m.-rely to rally n animal for a crisis,
whether to se,/,. a victim or to escape an enemy. And so we
ur<" able to appreciate Spino/a's .leHniti.m {mirs, part iii )•
■'By emotio.is I understand those conditions of th.> body
wherel)y its power to act is increas..! or diminishe.l, aided or
controll..d, and at the same time the ideas of these emotions"
1 propose to show that, just as the intellio-cit life of the
annual hiuLs its basis in the cerebro-spinal system of nerves
so Its emotional life finds its basis in the sympathetic system'
I he former was oriui^alf developed in order to co-ordinate
sense stnnuh an<l nuiscular exerti.m. Intelh>nce was an
eventual ^a^owth. The latter system had for its earli.vst use
the adjustment of blood-tlow. Emotional capacity was a
subsecpieut development.
The Two Nekve-Svstems.
The nerves of every Ijackbone.l animal l)elon«- to one or
otiier of tliese two systems, the cerebro-spinal and the sym-
pathetic. T\u' former consists of the spinal cord and the Ijulb
at its upper end, which forms the medulla oblongata l)eliind the
nape of the neck, to-ether with the cereljellum or lower brain
and the cerebrum or hemispheres which constitute the upper
brain. From ('very sens.>ry part of the body afieront nerves
bear to this central syst<'m news of the world without, and
from that central system the nniltitudinous efferent nerves
carry to all muscles the stiuiulus to act as external emer-
f,'encies demand.
The sympathetic s3-steni is much the less massive of the
two. It consists of two cords ,A' nerves running- parallel to
the backbone close on eith.-r side oi' it. In each of these cor.ls
numerous ffanr,dia occur (man has twenty-four). Every <,ran^r-
lion, except three in the neck, is connecte<l with the adjacent
spinal nerve by a small ti-ansverse nerve or commissuir
But
:
f
1'^
if
III
1,1
Jli
more than a dozen lono- branches from tl
lese cords
i-:\
+
1 'i
21G THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
lea.l invvanl to the heart and .;b.lo,ni..aI or^^ans. Each
hranch tenninates in a plexus, or daborate network of
nerves, with .solid expansions of nervous n.atter, lyiuL' around
he or^mn ,t .s intended tc, supply, th.- largest of the^e bein,-
the solar plexus, which lies on the under surface of the
stomach, and just above tlie kidneys. This is by far the
wei^ditiest portion of the sympathetic system, and next to the
brani ,s the heaviest nerve mass of the body. I„ each plexus
there ,s a ^am^Uon which acts as a sort of junction or ex'-
chanf^e tor the nerve lines, brin^nn^r f,or., the bulb at the
upper end ot the spinal cord, not only supplies of nerve force
but also central impulses of control whereby local autoiiomv'
IS kept m f,.eneral harmony with the needs of the whole body
(Dunjrams of the Nervrs, Sir W. H. Flower, plate v.) The
nerves which enter any such o.anj,dion are of the kind calle.l
niechillated: they are sheathed in a delicate coat of a fatty
nature The nerves which leave it are non-medullated.
a^askell W,^ of Ph,,sio.^ vii„ p. :V.l) This apparently
miphes that the ganglion receives its supply of nerve ener.^y
from the brain, but that this energy is thence distributed
perhaps after being to some extent stored therein. (Bastian'
The Brain, p. 475.) The tlieory I am now explaining is that
emotions, on tlieir physical side, consist of auton^atic releases
of this nerve energy by sense stimuli, so as to alter the re-
lative calibres of visceral and peripheral blood-vessels
There is another department of the sympathetic in which
the nerves are small, but by their huge number and com-
plexity make themselves a most essential feature of a hi.dily
deve loped animal. These are the vaso-motor nerves, Tvith
which, for the purpose of this broad sketch, I shall include the
glandular nerves. _ Wherever any artery goes, however small,
through the body, ,t is accompanied by vaso-motor fibres. The
walls ot each artery are composed of muscular bands like india-
rubber rings, .littering, however, from these in this essential
tact that, while the ring when left to itself is contracted re-
•luinng some external force to dilate it, the muscular walls of
an artery are when at rest considerably dilated, and external
influence is needed to make them contract. Now an artery
everywhere consists of muscular rings lying side by side so as
INSTINCT.
A'ans. Each
network of
lyin<r arouiil
these boiii^^r
I'f'ace of the
s by f;n- the
1 next to the
I each plexus
iction or l'x-
hulh at the
nerve force,
al autonomy
whole body.
ite V.) The
kind called
t of a fatty
-medullated.
apparently
erve ener^ry
distributed,
. (Bastian,
nino- is that
itic releases
Iter the re-
bels.
ic in whicli
r ami coiii-
)f a hi^dily
?rves, with
include the
ever small,
bres. The
like india-
s essential
racted, re-
ar walls of
d external
an artery
side so as
THE NERVOt'S BASIS o,' THK KM. )TI, iNs. 217
to form a continuous tube which is ji,,,..! without and within by
thnnier dastic mend)ranes. Each muscular rin<^ is under the
control of the vaso-motor nerves which accomi^mv the artery •
probably enouoh, ,,ach rin^^ is supplied with it's own vaso-
motor nerve-Hbre, by the discharge of which it is n.ade to
contract. Moreover, nicety of adjustment is s..cu.-e,l by the
tact now tolerably assured that ..10!, museular ri,,..- is supplied
not with one only but with 'wo such Hl>res of opposite func-
tion. Whilst the constrictor ,,erve-Hl)res can cans,, the rin.^ to
>^hut up in a convulsive contraction, h-avino' no intei^m.-lkte
condition between one of unrestricted flow of b!<,„d i„ the
artery, and one in which there is scarcely room foi- tl„w at all
the .hlator ner\ e-fibres, which also act upon everv muscuhu-
nno-, serve to counteract the inHuence <jf the former and in a
proper adjustment of the strains thus eaus..]. the constrictiim-
strain an.l the .]ilatin<r strain, lies the tone of the blood-vessels''
and, HI conse<juence, the tone of the bo.lv. and a-^ain in con-
sequence, the tone of the min.l. Let a sudden stimulus from a
central shock spread throujrli the visceral nerves so as to con-
strict the great blood-vessels of the abdomen ; we know that
in consecpience the arteries of heart, brain, and superMcial
muscles will become gorged. These organs l,ecome exceedin-dy
active, and the body is thrown into a condition which must'be
telt in consciousness. That state of consciousness, as I propose
to show, IS one or other of the exalting emotions, such for ex-
ample, as anger. The same sort of etiect in varying degrees
and with varying conditions, may be felt as indignation or
courage, or zeal, or hope. But suppose that the outward
stnnulus ,s one which dilates the visceral vessels, and that by
this action, either alone or in conjunction with peripheral
vaso-motor etiects, every artery of brain and muscle is de-
pleted, then the skin becomes pale, the muscles lose stren<rth
and the pulse is .luick but feeble. This bodilv condition in
a very brief time reports itself i„ consciousness ;..s terror or
fear; or with a less sudden effect it maybe merely anxiety
or melancholy. I hope to show that sympathetic emotions
are of the same nature, differing from other emotions only in
tlie fact that their stimulus is the contagion of ordinary
emotion in other people: the sight of her l,af,e all rosy anil
I 1
fl!!
^
li
1 1
I ?r
'21H THK OliK.I.N A.M) (JRoWTlI OK THE MoliAI, INSTINCT.
luippy .s..n.is tlu. l,l()o.l i„ full reFivshi„u. cunvnts tlwouol,
tlie n-lax...l artt'i-ics of the mother: while tlu- .sio],t of Us
1'incho.l an.l suttui-in^r features, when Hrst she realises that
•leath IS tlirea'eiiiuo. it, closes down ever^- artery, makes her
pale an.l thn.ws all her system into that condition which is
reported to consciousness as unhappiness. The .n'owth of
the moral instinct has been based on the .levelo';)ment of
nerves delicate enou-h in their susceptiljility thus to react
at the sij^dit of another's pains or pl.-asures, so as to cjive at
the aspect (.f joy the happiness of .luickened liealtli,"at the
si^ht of pain the uneasiness of a lessened vitality.
Gaskell, .jne of the hio^liest authorities on the sympathetic
system, divides it into these three portions : (1) nerves of the
vascular muscles ; (2) nerves of the visceral muscles; (8) nerves
of tlie -lands. {Journal of Physloloun, vii., 2.) In the first
divismn he includes not only the vaso-motors and vaso-in-
hihitors, but one of the three nerves which actuate the heart
tliat nerve whose function it is to .luicken its beat, while the
more directly spinal nerve (va|,ais) slows it and steadies it.
The third nerve of the heart (depressor) is the safety valve of
the system. If some stimulus has set the heart too vic.jr-
ously to work so that the blood pressure in the \-essels of'^the
body is dano-erously hi<,di, this nerve carries an impulse, never
to, but always from, the heart to the central bulb in the nape
of the neck, from which there o-oe,s in conse(iuence an impulse
to those sympathetic nerves (the splanchnics) which control
the size of the laro-e bloo<I-vessels in the intestines. These
relax, accommodate the exce.ss supply of blood, and so reduce
the <,renei'al pressure on the surface of the body. (Waller's
Phi/siolo(jij, p. U.S.)
There is never enouc-h blood in the body to fill completeiv
at full pressure all the vessels at once. If the arteries and
veins of the \iscera be ade(iuately supplie.l, thosi; of the limbs,
the brain and so forth (peripheral vessels), must go more or
less without, so that after a hearty meal, wlion the blood-
vessels of the stomach take a full share of the stream, mental
work must be relaxed, for the brain is not ade(|uately supplied,
or if the individual insists upon workinu- with liis mind., the
stomach is stai-ved of its supply and indigestion ensues.
INSTINCT.
I'Ut.s tlll-OU^^ll
.sio'lit of its
realise.s tliat
y, makes her
ion which is
iii growth of
t'lopiuont of
thus to react
as to ((ivo at
eaitii, at the
sympathetic
lerves of the
!s; (8) nerves
In tlie first
and vaso-in-
te the iieart,
it, while the
1 steadies it.
fety valve of
t too vi<;'or-
essels of the
ipulse, never
in the nape
; an impulse
Inch control
lies. These
id so reduce
. (Waller's
I completely
irteries and
)t' the limbs,
^o more (jr
the blooil-
jani, mental
sly supplied,
s niind, the
isucs.
Till
NKliVoCS 15ASIS 01' THi: V.
MCJTIONS.
21'.)
Tl
rfr.'.''!.' "'i;!*""'^'';." "'' '"t"'-<'sts uppli,..s in perhaps ,.,p,al
" """ '' " muscle when active re(|uir('s five
• leH-ive to musfular acti
times as niueh 1
Miisriilitirr): and it
)IOOl|
IS when at ivst ^Chauvcau, 7
I'll I'd il
cannot
ia\c an increased supply witl
lout
liver, kidneys, and
diminishing th.- volum.- that Hows throu-l
intestines. I .hall accumulate in the follown.o. pa^os. proofs
winch, as 1 think, n,, to show that at least the fundamental
emotmns are l.ase.l upon the halancine. of the two supplies
that an exaltin- or stimulatiiio. emotion arises when in re-
sponse to some cause, external or internal, the supply is shut
ort from the viscera and admitted in full streams to the
muscles and brain : while a depressine- emotion folloNvs when
he surface blood-v esseis are caused to empty their stream into
tlie visceral vessels.
It is easily coneeival,ie how this adaptation wouhl arise
that the reserx e resources of the system should be thrown, now
into one, and uow into anotlier of the scales of this balanc..,
according as the exif^encies of a crisis min.iit d.-mand Tin'
captain whose vessel was about to be b.mrded misht brim., his
hremen and stok..rs on deck and put cutlasses in their hamis •
'ut It, on the other nand, .safety lay only in all possible speed'
iH' niio-ht .send his l)luejackets below to help to Hre up the
furnaces with all haste. So in the survival of an animal a
Hreat preservatixe elfect would be produced if its nerves -nvw
responsive t.. stimuli in such a manner that when courajje or
even fury was necessary to carry it over a crisis, all the blood
that could be spared from the internal oreaiis would -o to
knve increased eiieroy to the muscles, an.l re.l.jubl.Ml acut'iiess
to the senses ; while at a crisis in which resistance would b,-
hopeless, It would be well that no need shoul.l arise f.jr rea.son-
mo. on the part of an unrea.sonin^;' a.dmal ; that the effect
should be automatic ; that the internal oruans should relax to
receive additional supplies of bloo.l, while muscle and brain
should be proportionately .stinted ; the result beino-, of course
a shutting-. lown of the animal's powers and the removal of any
dane-erous inclination Uy resistance.
We often exert our reason to contnd these fundamental
nipulses, yet e\eii with us the
man who, on steppin;^' out into his uard
■y are eipially automatic. T
ne
len, sees a cow
busily
(:
I'L,
s-
1
It
1
i
11^
220 THE ORIGIN AND (JROWTH OP THE ^lORAL INSTINCT.
nmncliino. hi.s choicest plants, feels an instantane?ous rnsli of
blood, which means an-n', with niinok-.l conra-e and zeal to
seize a stick and drive her out; but when the animal lowers its
horns for a char^^e, and turns out to be no cow but a savat,^' bull,
the man feels a shock at his heart, and an utter revulsion of emo-
tion ; which, he scarce knows how, lands him safe behind his
door, pale and with the strength for a time ,o(,„,, out of him.
It has three times been my experience when passin<( at
night up a path in a stranj.-e garden t(j luue a .log spring at
me with a growl, from the l)lackness. The sudden shock near
the diaphragm, the derangement of circulation, and subse(|uent
bilious attack were no result of a mere mental state but arose
from a deHnite destruction of vascular tone by the action of a
stimulus whose vital function was to bid me start back, and
shrink from approaching .langer. The sudde.uiess of these
changes is often known to kill. A grossly insulting word
uttered to an apoplectic old man will, at a shock, so till his
blood-vessels with the rush of combative How as to burst them
at a weak spot ; while a woman in a delicate state of health
may, by a sudilen shock of fear, have the blood-vessels so shut
down that the heart, after a vain Huttering struggle to force
the current through constricted channels, is stopped dead by
the reaction.
In general, however, all such fatal results are prevented by
the action of the depressor nerve of the heart. When the
opening or closing of the superficial bloo.l-vessels rela.Kes or
increases the pressure, that change itself transmits an impulse
to the bulb of the spine whence a corresponding impulse is
earned to the sympathetic nerves of the viscera (splanchnics),
whereby the capacity of their vessels is diminished or increased'
so that an accurate adjustment is rapidly set up between the
force of the heart's l)eat and the altered ivsistance of the
superficial blood-vessels. For the resistance of the internal
vessels is in comparison of small account. The pressure of the
blood in an ordinary large artery is sufficient to sustain a
column of eight inches of mercury, or, in other words, if the
blood from such an arteiy were admitted into an upright glass
tube, its i)ressure would cause it to rise between .'ight and nine
feet. Hut the blood which courses through the Targe vessels
INSTINCT.
Sous rush oF
and zeal to
lal lowers its
I savai^^u bull,
Ision of emo-
e hchiiul his
:)nt of him.
1 passiiiir at
a^' sprin^r at
1 shock near
1 sul)se(|uent
te Ijut arose
3 action of a
't hack, and
ess of these
iltiny- word
V, so till his
hurst them
te of health
sels so shut
i;"le to force
ad dead by
'evented by
When the
I relaxes or
an impulse
impulse is
)lanchnics),
ir increased
3tween the
nee of the
le internal
sure of the
sustain a
irds, if the
rit^'ht^iass
it and nine
I'^'e vessels
THK MOliVoi'S BASIS OF i
HK KMOTIONS.
•2-2L
t]
11' liver has a
I"
'essure ol
tl
uu
1 half an inch of
u\s.
mercury ; ,t would not rais,- itself in a .-lass tube Hve incl
Moreover, tim san.e sort of reduced pressure is rea.lilv produced
m all the larov and Habby intestinal vessels. At miy sort of
pam lysmy- shock to the splanchnic nerve all these vessels
winch are of jjreat capacity, expand an,l are oor^^ed with blood'
drawn from the rest of the body. ()„ the other han.l. excite-
ment of the splanchnic branch of the sympathetic will contract
these vessels and expel nmch of the visceral blood to course
Uiroii^h th.. sui-face arteries and capillaries. Thus whenever
the face is whitened or reddene.l by emotion we know that
blood has either y-or^red or deserted the intestinal vessels
Ihere IS th.u-efore a constant balancino- maintained betwe,.n
he circulation of the muscles and that of the internal or.^ans
When the muscles require the blood for their work, it leaves
the viscera ; but when the viscera nee.l it for the operations
connected with dio,,stio„, it is withdrawn from the surface
and th,' o.,„e,-al blood pressure falls. But if it were to fall to
one half of its normal, there would be .lano-er of death throu-di
failure of the heart's action. The .lepressor nerve of the her.-t
1.S there to secure the animal a-ainst too sud.len or too ..-reat
an exchanf.-e. (Wallers ^'A/ys/o/o,///, pp. no, i]:^) t,^; ,^,,,.
oU cat may, by due excitation of nerve, be nu.,.le to receive
either 20 per cent, more, or 4H per cent, less blood than its
ves.sels or.linarily contain. (Bowditch, Juurn. of Physio vii
447.) «uch extremes, extended tlirou^di all the body, would'
be the physical basis of the extremes of fury or of terror
Comparative Lvdei-enhence of the Sympathetic •
Sy.stem.
In its simplest form, therefore, an emotion is .lue to a
stimulus of sensation which descends from tlie brain to the
^m^dia and vaso-motors of the sympathetic system. And
the emotions, accordingly, have towards the intellect the
Hame sort of semi-in.lependent relation that the sympathetic
aystem boars to the cerebro-spinal.
The sympathetic system is exclusively char^red with the
-)•).)
1' I
1
1 ,
U M.
■-•^ THK OliKHN AND GHOWTH OF THK M..KAI, IXSTIXCT.
nnconscious processes of life, tlie .li^estion of tl,e foo.l, its
eo.,vers.o„ ,nto bloo.l, the ahstmction fro,,, it of all the
so ,,1 „,atter oi secretio„s p,-o,h,oe.l l,y o-Ian.ls. s„ch as tears
sahva, peptic juice, pai.civatie j„ice, hiie, an.l so foitl, • it is
exelns,veiy ccicerne.l with the purificatio,, of the bIo(,.l i„
I.e k.-hieys, though little wit), the oxyo-,.„atio„ of it in tl,e
lungs. In fact the old distinction n.ade l,v BichAt (Rrrherch,'.
-W. Vu^ rt la Mort, a.-t. vii.. sec. iii.), in .vhich the syn.pa-
het,c ,s the bas,s of organic life, whil. t],e ee,.ebro-spinai is
the systen, that controls the general ani.nal life, deserves to
be revived, tl,o,igh it is tnu- that not all the penet.-ation of
Ins wondertnl ,nn,d could n.ake good the want of the vast
resom^ces offered by a centn,-y of subse.pu-nt investigation,
an.l Ins views n, consequence see,,, now in th.ir details often
crude a,id hasty.
Tlie sympathetic system, which chieHy supplies the nerves
oi stomach intestines, and bloo.l-vessels, and also the motor
nerves to tl,e heart and the chief glan.ls, is solely concerned
with he nutrition of the body. The cerebro-spinal system,
though It plays a subsidiary part in this work, is chieHy con-
cerned with the activities of the animal as a single organism.
I he one has the function of the engineers. Bremen and
stokers of a steamer, who neve,. a,-e ,.e,,uire.l to look
<.uts,de, their business being confine,! to the keepi,,.- up of
steam and the working of the engines. The eereb.^-spinal
system would correspond to the captain, his offices and sea-
men above, who are n<.t concerned with the production of
motive power, but taking that as a thing Hsewheiv to be
secured, utilise it for the general han.lling of the ship To
t.HMn belcgH the province of observing the .-elation I,f the
ship to external tlnngs, of watching fo,- .langers and of steer-
u.g a proper course. A certain .legre,- of independence must
be ong to the engineer's .lepartn.ent, yet it would never be
sate to suffer two wholly independent systems in the one ship.
Ihe engineer ,s alone responsible within his own domain, b.lt
"." takes Ins onle.-s f,-o,n th. eaptain. He ,vverses his en-ines
■H- slows them with(.ut knowing the object, but enti.vPv as
-lirected, though in the .nanagvn.ent of his fu,.nH,..s boile,-^.
valves and shafts, he is ve.y little, if at all, intnfe.vd with'
i
IXSTIXCT,
tliB food, its
' of all the
iicli a,s tears,
foi'tli : it is
lie blood ill
of it in the
( Rcchci'rlu'K
the synipa-
liro-spiiial is
deserves to
iietration of
of the vast
vestio-ation,
letails often
* the nerves
the motor
7 concenKMl
lal system,
ihie'fiy con-
organisin .
X'men and
1 to look
liny' np of
-'bro-spinal
s and sea-
luction of
'lere to he
ship. I'o
on of the
1 of steer-
I'lice must
never he
' one ship,
imain, hut
is en^'ines
iitiiTly as
's, hoili'i'.K,
■red with.
THK NKIiVOf.S BASIS or
■|'Hi-; i;M(n-i()\s.
Yet it mififht ea.sily he coi
228
that if he felt the si
iceived that I
le slumld he so trained
liip runninn- on a rock or hrar.l a shot ru.sh
.screamino- throuo.h the hnll of the ship 1,,. si
and without orders, fire up his I
louid in.stantl
and 1
)ring his pre.ssTu-e of steam to a head tl
urnaces, shut down his val
ves.
an external stimulus n
msin.,^ the ship to its fullest
lus ill resjionse to
for exertion. He mi^-ht, in short, .^atluT I
jttbrt
and then wait for ord
•aiiacity
lis forces for a -ireat
that force was to be expended
Ts as to tile diivetioii in which
In th
e animal frame the sympathetic oeeupic.s the same
.sort o quasi-indepen.lent province, in o.,,,,,, ,„',,„, ;'
ou niterference the energy that the cerebro-spimd syst™ ,
lUse; not concerned as a rule with what loes on ou s d
yet capable of resrondin. directly in the form of emotion to
such external stimuli as demand an instant change in tl "o
duction or distribution of energy. ^
The_dej,.ree of this independence was f,.. a long time a
A Wa ler says iPhy.l.,lo,jy, p. 500). " the ,uestion foner y
debated whether the syn.pathetic i,s the independent compan on
of the cerebro-spinal system, or whether it I a dependei Z
vmce of that system, n.ay at the present day ^.J^Z:^^l
ih. sense of the second alternative ". Nevertheless, it is every
where conceded that a very lar,. share of a so t of u or-
. mate contro .s exercise<I by this system. Bastian tel s us
l^t itzs to a certain extent an independent system"
irke Bra^n, p. 135 and p. 475.) Landois allows it aifll;
complete autonomy in so far as concerns the .amd o tl
hear , the visceral plexuses, an<l all the nerve n::two kl o e
h >od-ve^els and lymphatics. (Stirling's translaM ^l^ '
■^.% ) K.rke ni lus r/.y^io/,,,!, tells us that " the svmmtlet t '
^em . ^ a measure independent of the eerebrol ''t
SO), and St ( e„r,.e Mivart declares that "it is in the hlh st
^^ee probable that some sympathetic action is of th tlx
order, complete in itself, and more or less iud..nende r ^
cerebro-spinal system ". (7%. Cat, p. ^2!) ^ "*'
''' rince is di '
(ii
pre
other .system is
ctly nuirked off from that
in a manner demonstrated I
litterence in the structure of its nerve-tibr
'es.
'f the
•y a prevailin<>'
In any cerebro-
IP V
224
THK ()H[(;iN AM) (iiiOWTH OF THK MORAL INSTINCT.
J (
f! [.
spinal ner\e the o-i-eut majority of tlie fibres are fouiul to
consist of a conducting- tliroad called the medulla; this is in-
sulated from ncio'hbouring fibres by a sheath of a fatty nature,
the whole brini;- enclosed in an outside membrane called the
ncurilenniia. But the sympathetic nerve is characterised liy
the presence, t?ither in large part or else wholly, of fibres much
simpler in their structure. They are without sheath of any
sort. Some of the .sympathetic nerves in the earlier portion
of their course have considerable <iuantities of the medullated
fibres uitermingled with tho.se that are nou-medullated ; but,
in general, when th" nerve has reached its ganglion, the
branches which prolong its course to their various destinations
are without this admixture, and present the sympathetic type
in all its simplicity. Moreover, the medullated fibres in a
.sympathetic nerve are found on examination to have a dif-
ferent origin from those that are non-medullated. (Fo.ster and
Langley, p. 73.) The evidence seems to suggest that these
medullated fibres loj-m the means whereby the cerebro-spinal
system exercises its general control over the .sympathetic, so
that while t.-ach sympathetic fibre has a .sort of local centre in
its own ganglion, it has a centre of superior control in the
spinal axis.
There is aiHjther very important distinction between nerves
of the sympathetic and those of the cerebro-spinal sy,stem.
The fornKU', and espiscially those nerves that are entirely non-
medullated, terminate in involuntary nuiseles, nuiscles .such as
tho.se which enclo.se the viscera and the blood-ve.ssels : wliile
nerves of the medullated or cerebro-spinal type run to the
voluntary muscles. It is for this reason that the sympathetic
system can be described as concerne.l only with our uncon-
scious vegetative life, while the other controls all our conscious
activities. In general, the voluntary muscles consist of fibres
that are striped or striated, while involuntary muscles are
unstriated. Foi- instance, the muscles that compose the outer
walls of the stomach, both the circular layer on tlie inner, and
the longitudinal layer on the outer side, are composed of un-
striated muscle, supplied with an abundance of fine non-
medullated n(!rve-fibre. This is the typical structure of aiu-
organ, which, though active, is out of the sphere of our con-
INSTINCT.
ire t'ouml to
I ; this in in-
fatty nature,
le called the
•acterised In-
fibres much
eath of anj-
rlier portion
i niedullated
Hated ; but,
iniL>-lion, the
destinations
athetic type
fibres in a
have a dif-
( Foster and
J that these
rebro-spinal
pathetic, so
;al centre in
itrol in the
kveen nerves
tial system,
itirely non-
cles such as
ssels; wJiile
run to the
ym pathetic
our luicon-
ir conscious
st of fibres
nuscles are
le the outer
! inner, and
)Hed of un-
fine non-
ure of a!i3'
if our con-
}'
THE NERVOUS BASIS OF THE EMOTIONS.
225
scious activities. But the biceps muscle of an arm consists
o stnated nuiscle supplied with lar^e Uiedullated nerve-
fibms and tliis forms the type of our organs of conscious
activity.
We are thus entitled to conclude that tlie sympathetic
system is, as (Jaskell puts it, ditferentiated from the cerebro-
spinal by anatomical, physioloo-ical, an.] luorpholoo-ical char-
acteristics which all point to a fundamental distinction in
iunction. The names applied to the two systems are open
to objection, and it is very customary now-a-days to refer tc
the " so-called sympathetic " and also in a less decree to the
so-called cerebr.>spinal system ". But as none of the newly
propo.sed terms have succeeded in becoming. «-enerally cui--
rent, I have retained the use of the more popular names
It must not, however, be supposed that I make a hard and
fast hne of demarcation between the two. Such lines very
rarely occur in nature ; but the dirterence between the two
sys ems is .juite as perceptible, yet quite as indefinable, as
tliat between our emotional and our intellectual natures
Influence of the Sympathetic on Emotion.s.
It is a conclusion which may be drawn with f,n-eat
probability that in every or^^aii of the bo.Iy and alonj.- the
walls of every bloo.l-vessel there are jranfrlia of the sym-
pathetic system which are al.le to receive stimuli from local
conditions, and to transmit their own stored up ihtvous
energy for sucii movements and activities as may be locally
necessary. Their function is principally to reo'ulate the
bloo. -How so as to provide for local needs. They will turn
the bloo.l freely into the brain under the action of any
stimulus to thou^dit: tliey will turn it into the stomach
under the influence of food, or into tbe salivary glaiKJs in
n'sponse to the stimulus of taste. Sometimes their action is
much more strictly local, as when a splinter runs into a
fin«-er ; then, in response to that stimulus, ami entirely «nit-
s.de the operation of nnr ^vill, the blood-fiow sets a. towards
tiie place and an inflammation expels the intruder
vol. II. i5
226 THK OKIGIN AM) GROWTH OF TIIK MORAL INSTINCT.
(
i'i
it '■'
^1' I
i
, 1
1
i^^'
'1
«
h
■
t
1 ';
it,
1
'< 1
^1
f :
^
i i
1
.1
M I:
a ^
^ '^
M
li 1
! !
'
n
! ■
- ; i
- 1
1
1
b
^^
ik^
5
Under ordinary circuni.stances each of thoKe multitudinous
jfan^dia yields its enerf>y in this manner for local use by a
slow and ^n-adual outflow, always with reserves, never (luite
exhausted of its store. But in an emotion some part of them
receive a stimulus which causes a more or less sinuiltaneou.s
discharj,fe whereby these local stores of enerf;y are utilised for
some more j^^eneral pui'pose.
One warm sprinjf morniufr when I was walking' throu^-h the
forest, feeling my body in healthy tone, every graifi^lion usin<i;
its proper sliare of nerve enerj^y in pursuit of local reijuire-
ments, a movement in the ^a-ass at my feet shcnved that I
was in the act of stepping over a black snake whose head was
reared for a bite : the leap I then made was one in no way do-
pendent on my will or my mind, yet all the resources of my
strenjfth were by a sinj^le stimulus called up for a siui^ie
specific purpose of the whole body. When tlie snake was
killed, I walked as one in whom the former tone was de-
ranged, the former ample resoui'ces of energy had been ex-
hausted in one critical withdrawal : I was glad to sit down
soon afterwards for a recuperativ(! rest, and the mind could
look back on an emotion of startled fear in which at the time
it had no part, but which was strictly a bodily process. The
histoiy of any emotion is entirely analogous if we analyse it
with sutHcient care : bearing in mind, of course, that remem-
bered sensations act in ihe same way as direct sensations, l)ut
with weakened force.
It is to be noticed that the whole motive power of an
animal's voluntary activities is to be found in its emotions
and in these only. No operation of the intellect will pro-
duce activity without emotion. The cat may see the mouse,
but that has no eti'ect upon hei- if no emotions are thereby
aroused. The mouse may see the cat, but its subset] uent
activity is due to the emotions tlius induced. If a man
sliould see a lump of gold at his feet, he would not stoop to
pick it up unless impelled to do so by some emotion. What
though his intellect should inform him first that it was truly
gold, and secondly that certain things might l)e had in exchange
therefor ? Unless he has some desires, some hopes whicli that
gold can satisfy, oi- some fears which that gold can alleviate,
IXSTINCT.
ultitu<linous
al use by a
never (juite
Dart of tlieni
iniultancou.s
utilised for
tIirouf;-h tlie
iif^dioii usiii^
.)cal ref|uire-
)we(l that I
se head was
no way de-
urces of my
Por a sint;le
snake was
ne was de-
id been ex-
to sit down
mind could
at the time
jcess. The
e analyse it
hat remem-
sations, but
Dwer of an
ts emotions
it will pro-
the mouse,
ire thereby
subseijuent
If a man
ot stoop to
ion. What
t was truly
in exchan^fe
whicli that
-n alleviate,
THE NERVOUS BASIS OF THE EMOTIONS. 227
^S'our'a^'"r' ''r'- ^'P^"^^'«"" "^ ^'>« '"^^l^t
can attect our activities only in so far as they present to us
remembered or otherwise ima.^ed sensations wl ich a " U le to
rouse in us en.otion. Even the student, .,uietly at w - n
h. onely room is kept to his book by em'otion and ^ ;i
of nith Nr'' '",'^^:,^'""«- '^^ -"l^ition, or that of love
novelty, the little surprises, the little hopes an.l expectations
the sense o triumph in knowledge mastered, and'so fbrt '
At least It IS plain that without some sort of .mo "n i
s imulus he sets no sort of return for his labour, and on
lus emotions can he find any motive for it ^
_ Thus on the mental side the three links in tlie chain of
animal activity are-first, the sensation ; secon<l, the e ion
thereby awakened ; third, the action thus impel ed. "^ he
physical side these may be translated. First, the transit o!
nerv. stimulus from the sense or.an to tl. bra it^e;
an automatic current to suitable combinations of ..in.dia tie
.h.schar.e ot whose stored up nervous ener,.y tlu■o^^^ the
vascular tone of the body into a corresponding tLeLastlt
hat vascu ar state results in appropriate tction ; if tt
a^.-eeable there is a tendency to continue the stimulus an
perpetuate the pleasant condition; if disagreeable, 1." is"
stron . ten. ency to with.lraw from it. Or the va cular tone
niay lie such .s to send the animal into the violent actio^:
i.i^^c the extravagant capers of joy ; or, on the other hand
into the collapse of fear, or the dejection of grief.
DevlloPMENT OF THE SYMPATHETIC Sv.STEM.
I shall hm-e the further proof of this theory to the next
hup er; and assuming for the present that a p./. , '^
Z ri^T; "t "'' '". '^ ''^^"^' ' ^'-" F-e^ w
elon ^^•'.'"■;*^'"^' tins emotional susceptibility has de-
veloped, how It has in the evolution of species been sunTrim
posed as a new and preservative function L thos s^ nZ 1"
-eswliose primary .luty was to regulate blool'Z On
thiH early function were developed the secondary fulitio^l
11'
!l
! M
i
•<>»-■
228 THE ORICrlN AXn (IROWTir OF THK MORAT. IXSTrXCT.
JM
I -I
t^ -\
>! IH
-J
m
of rei;ulatin<f temperature and of nri^^inatiupj emotional condi-
tions. In all cases of nerve action, the conscious phenomena
liave been secondary processes, deriveil fi'oni otliers which
have had primarily a mechanical nature. It is impossible
to say witli absolute certainty wiiat may be the dej;Tee of
consciousness in the life of a jelly-tish, but in all prol)ability
it seizes and swallows its food, with no more consciousness
than we have in makin<f our hearts beat, or in closinif the
pylorus when food enters the empty stomach. A small animal
1 "uchcs a tentacle of the Jelly-fish; thence <;-oes a sense stimulus
to a <:jan^lion from which is automatically liberated a motor-
nerve current travellin<;' back to the same tentacle. Tlie
tentacle closes on the prey, which is with ecjually automatic
action cai'ried to the mouth and digested with as little con-
sciousness as wo ourselves have in the process of digestion.
But in tJie upward scale of development the ganglia grow;
they coalesce ; they eventually form a brain, and that brain
begins to develop its cerebral hemispheres, and, in the same
proportion, mere automatic or refle.x action begins to pass
through that region of consciousness which lies between the
phenomena of sense stinuilus, and those of muscular action.
So with the emotions ; they are at first mechanical. It is
not till long after, that the retlex arc of sense stinuilus and
bodily tension passes through the tract of consciousness. The
nerves which are eventually concerned in the production of
emotional states have for their primary purpose only the
regulation of blood flow. They develop, as a secondary
purpose, the function of rousing the whole animal to action,
or calming it down to the security of repose. But in conse-
quence of its capacity to regulate the bloo<l flow, this system
of nerves subsequently takes charge of the due maintenance
of body temperature. For that piu'pose it becomes most in-
tricately subtle and delicate, and in conseipxence assumes new
and wonderful susceptibilities in the way of emotion.
In all the higher animals it is the sympathetic system of
nerves which undertakes the duties of blooil distribution and
of consecjuent heat regulation, upon which are superinq)osed
the functions of emotional changes, but in none of the lower
animals — in no invertebrate — is there any sympathetic. Yet
N'STI.VCT.
ouiil condi-
plu'iioiiu'iui
Ikts wliich
impossiblo
' (Ictj^Tt't' of
pr<)l)al)ility
usciousnesH
closiiio' the
nail animal
ISO fstiiiuilus
<1 a niotor-
iidv. Tho
/ automatic
little con-
1' (li<;-estion.
i(;'lia ^Tow ;
that brain
n the same
ins to pass
etween the
IV action,
iiical. It is
innilus ami
sness. The
•oduction of
e only the
secondary
1 to action,
it in conse-
thia system
naintenance
les most in-
ssumes new
ion.
c system of
'ibution and
iperimposed
if the lower
thetic. Yet
THK NEK".. oS BASIS OP THK KMOTIOXS.
229
the dnti
es ol
th
sympathetic svstci
way pei-foi'med in the hi;;hcr invertebrates by tl
as the st(3mato-<;-asti'ic nei'ves. Jnst
verteln-ate has a Ijraiii, but that
11 ai'e ill a rudimentary
e set known
as it is trui,' that no in-
lave i-'aiiirlia wliici
all the hii;her invfrtel)rat
es
1 are in a considcraljh' measure earlv substi-
tutes Ol' prototype.s of brain :
vertebrate has a sympathetic, all the hi<,d
a sub
so it is true that while no in-
, licr invcrtcliratcs iiave
stitute or prototype in the shape of these stomato-oastric
nerves. 8o close is the analooy that Aj^assiz {P/ujsJnlnnu,
§ 115) had no hesitation in calling- these nerves sympathetics ;
but the subse(iueut forty years of investigation have not en-
dorsed his vie\v. Huxley (Auut. of Lyr,rteh,-at,s, p. 41.5)
<lescribes these nerves as beino- foxmd in all insects. Bastian
[Brain, pp. 0.5, !)S, 101, 106) describes them for all the arthro-
pods, that is not only for ins. :ts but also for the .spi.ler
centipede, and lobster orders. They preside over dioe.stion[
nutrition, and circulation.
The first hund)le appearance of these visceral nerves occurs
n. the leeches and worms, where they are represented by a
small tilament runnino- alonn- the back of the alim.'ntarv canal.
In the cray-tish and other Crustacea they exist in much o-reater
complexity (Huxley, p. 830: Marshall an.l Hurst, p. 148);
an.l in the hi^-her molluscs they are still more intricate!
(Huxley, p. 494.) But there can be no .loubt that, as Bastian
says (p. 10()), these nerve.s reach their highest development in
the insects. In the frontal or medial ganoHon formed ])\' the
union of the anterior nerves on the walls of the .esophao-us,
we have the first hint of those alxlominal o-anoHa which
constitute in hi^dier types so notable a feature of the true
sympathetic .system. This g-an^'lion forms the centre of a
little .system of nerves connected witli minut.' -•an<rlia, the
whole makin^r a thin network over the crop an.l ^^uHet, and
y'lvmy; off minute fibres to the air tubes which serve for the
respiration of the insect.
It is impossible to say at what leN'i-l in the scale of animal
hfe the emotions actually beo-i„. Like the sensations, they
doubtless cn^pt on so slowly and with so subtle a prour.'ss that
none can mark the line above which they are ami below which
they are not. Si^dit, for instance, is originally a.lumbrated
I !(■'
*230 THK ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
Il 1
r 1
1^" '
'if
I 1:
^1 ^
by a sfiisitivenofss to li<;-lit of tlie whole l)0(ly of the lowest
protozoa : in lii^her foi'ms special spots })ecome more sensitive
than others, and so the progi-ess goes on till something which
is distinctly an eye is reached. And yet it is only in the fish
that an e^^e of the ultimate type Hi-st appears ; and through all
the vertel)rates we see only the successive stages of advance-
ment in that one type. Something of very much the same
histoi'y is seen in the dawn of the emotions. In the lowest
animal, the touch of its food will <juicken it to action, and it
must Hnd some sort of satisfaction in the seizure and digestion
of it. If wlien a snail is feeling about with its horns one
passes any object rjear their ends they shrink backwards, and
we are not unju.stified in attributing to the animal some in-
cipient sort of fear. When a leech is lying (juiescent in the
forest and hears, or as good as hears, some animal passing near,
the rousing of its faculties, the sharp grip with one end upon
the soil, the rearing up of the other, and the subsecpient gallop
with semi-circular strides, all seem to suggest an emotion
wakened b^ the blood which is to be sucked. Y(;t these we
must regard as only reflex actions similar to that by which we
shut our eyelids when any object approaches the open eye. In
all these lower forms of life, this at least is certain, that wher-
ever we .seem to see some play of emotions, it is manifested
only by a change in bodily activity, such as the pouncing on
some smaller animal suited to be a prey, or the avoidance of
some larger one from which danger is to be expected. But in
proportion as the sense nerves and the central ganglia become
more efficient, as the stimuli from the outer world become
more definite, so is there needed the capacity for these stinuili
to throw all the faculties of the body into immediate co-
ordination of effort for the appropriate action. In the earliest
forms all these nerve actions are so mixed and so little ditter-
entiated that any discrimination of parts and their functions
must be inqiossible : but by degrees the sense organs grow
definite, the organ of mental power is rudely constituted : and
we may suppose that a distinct part of the nervous system
becomes adapted to respond to suitable stimuli, so as to pro-
duce einotlons and to concentrate when necessary the bodily
powers to meet a short emergency.
fSTINCT.
the lowest
■e sensitive
liiij^' which
in tlie tisli
lu'oun^li ail
P ailvance-
1 the sanie
the lowest
ion, ami it
1 (lii^'estioii
liorns one
tvards, and
1 some iu-
ent in the
ssinjv near,
! end upon
lent <,faIlop
I emotion
t these We
• which we
II eye. In
;hat wher-
naiii tested
uncinff on
oidance of
1 But in
lia become
Id become
ise stimuli
ediate co-
lie earliest
ttle diti'er-
functions
^aiis grow
uted: and
us system
as to pro-
the bodily
THE XKHVOrs BASIS OF THK KMOTIONS.
281
I conc-ive this function to belong- to thos.. portions of the
nerves which control nutrition and circulation. Such an
explanation is only of course an hypc.tlu.sis which projects
tin- more clearly traceable facts of the later determinate
oruanisnis back into the dusky twilight of earlier forms, and
uses for its basis the probability of uniformity. Hut it is
consistent with the fact which is so easily perceived that in
proportion as the visceral nerves become more intricate and
delicate, so <loes the animal become more capable of emotion.
It would lie easy enouo-h therefrom to prove tlie truth of tlie
hypothesis were it not that, concomitantly, the sense organs
and the general nervous system improve in type, and" we
miglit then be attriliuting to progress in om- part what was
due to an accompanying progress in another part. But the
development of emotional capacity would, upon our theory,
demaiKl increasing efficiency in the sense organs as well. A
very strong and detinite stimulus must be supplied by the
sense organism, and this must be capable of penetrating be-
yond the central nervous system and of releasing the stored
up nervous energy of the body in general, in order that *here
may be some display of emotional activity.
Certainly there is no emotional display in the lower forms
of life at all compar.^ble with that of the arthropods, the
highest class of the inverteiirates, in which the visceral nerves
—those controlling media of purely organic aa distinguished
from animal faculties—are first seen to be extensive and com-
plex. A crab, a cuttle-fish, a liee, an ant, exhibit the bodily
changes that correspond to rage or fear, to hate or amatory
passion. Romanes {Mental Evolution, p. 342), after giving
the matter an elaborate scrutiny, considers that fear may be
supposed to begin at the level of the worms, but emotions
belonging to pugnacity and sexual choice he regards as being
first une(iuivocally displayed in the insects and spiders. I
have spent at various times some idle hours watching large
ants under low powers of the microscope. I made flat glass
cages for them, and observed the changes that occurred when
ants of hostile species were thrust in to face each other. At
once a swelling took place around the sting, and the extremity
of the abdomen became translucent. The sting itself was thrust
1
i
i
•i
■( .
* :.
i
m
2;t2 THE ORIGIN AM) <iH()\VTH OF THK MORAL INSTINCT.
ont and in witli sonic I'apidity, tlu' nuindihlt's hfc.unc sti-aincil
and till' whole l)ody on the alei't lor the rush which soon
followed. Uiif^overnabk' fury tilled the coinhatants-, who lic-
caine lost to t.'verythin<r but the (h'sirc to hold each other
f,n'inily hy the inandihles, while the stin*;' of each searched up
and down the body oF the other for a vnlnerahle place. J5nt
that the whoh; was a hodily pi'ocess seeiiieil to he rendered
clear hy the fact that if the heads of the coinhatants were cut
oti" Hrst of all. their decapitated bodies, when pushed a^j-ainst
each other, fou<;lit and stuii^' much cs before, tliouyh with less
of co-ordinated ei*brt.
With the vertebrated type there appears tliat system of
vi.sceral nerves, the synipatlietie, destined eventually to take
on functions .so much higher and so much more coiiiplieateil.
But these do not at once make their appearance. They have
never been traced iu the two lowest orders of iish (Gef>-enbauer,
Huxley, Giinther) ; but in the (wseous tishes, according- to lleiie
Chevrel (''(Hii/itrn Rend us, Sept., 1M88), they present a series
of ascending- complexity. Some of the medium types [Pli'/-
sostomes) have y-anglia which send not only threads to palate,
jaws, eyes, tongue and gills, but also branches which anasto-
mose with the pneuinogastric nerve and form a network along
the (esophagus : the tirst imlication of what is eventually to
be an elaborate system. The grejxt majority of o.sseous tishes
have threads of the synipatlietie system running along the
axillary artery, with ganglia here and there ; the whole
having no doubt the function of regulating the diameter of
tliat artery. All the arteries that run between the ribs, and
the arteries which supjtly the blood to the muscles of the tail-
fin are similarly regulated.
So far as we can perceive, an emotional state in a fish is
merely the stinuilus of these nerves so that the regulation of
the blood supply to ditterent paiis becomes adapted to the
need of fight or ibght. Romanes records that when a stickle-
back perceives another Hsli about to intrude on the area
wherein his eggs are under guard, he has " seen the animal
change colour, and darting at the trespasser show rage and
fury in every movement". (Anhual Intciivjenca, p. 24(i.j
Giinther (Fishes, p. 518) says that the fighting perch {Belta
;STIMT.
If strained
'hicli soon
s, who ])('-
3iicli otlu'i-
'iirchi'd up
luce. I Jut
' ivmltTcil
s were out
L'(l aj;'aiiist
li witli less
system ot"
lly to take
iiiplicateil.
They liave
3ji;oiibauer,
i^' to Rene
nt a series
•pes [Pli;/-
to pahite,
eh aiiasto-
:ork along
■ntually to
eous tishes
along the
the whole
iaiiieter of
li rihs, and
)f the tail-
in a tish is
;-ulation of
:e(l to the
a stickle-
the area
he animal
rage and
, p. 24't),j
rch (ik'Ifd
THE NERVOUS BASIS OF THE EMOTIONS.
l:vA
piu/na.r) kept by the Siamese, just as the .Malays keep game
cocks, is of dull colour when in a (piiet state, " l)Ut if two he
l)rought together, or if one sees its own image in a looking-
glass, the little creature l)ecomes suddenly excited, the raised
tins and the whole body shine with metallic colours of dazzling
beauty. In this state it makes repeat<;d darts at its anta-
gonist, but both of them when taken out of each other's sight
instantly l)ecome ([uiet."
I think it not rash to conclude in such a case that the
emotion of rage consists in a cliange of circulatory ai'i'ang.i-
ments whereby the supplies of lilood usually allowed to the
viscera are thrown into the muscles of the tins in order to
animate the little combatant to his utmost eH'oi'ts. .Mau\- tish,
at other times dull, become resi)lendeiit at the breediix.- season
11 ^1
and others, such as the wrasses, are said to vary their colours
most evidently with emotional changes.
Tlie shark order, as being in other ways the most highly
developed of tishes, ought to exhibit progress in this respect
also. Bastian's expressions (linint, p. LStij would seem to
deny that they possess a sympathetic system eipial to that of
the average fish, but all other writers whom I have consulted
speak in ver iitiennt terms. Giinther {p. lOS) .says that in
this order "it is well developed though without cephalic
portion". Parker describes the sympathetic ganglia of the
skate as being remarkably large, and Balfour's testimony is
analogous (ii., 4()7). In my own rough dis.sections I have
often failed to trace the .sympathetic in tishes wherein, accord-
ing to .competent observers, it ought to liave been visible, but
I rarely after the first few attempts had any difficulty with
shark or dog-fish or skate. Sharks are among the most
emotional of fi.sli : on the one hand caution and fear, on the
other hand fury and ferocity are manifested by them.
In almost all ampliibia and reptiles tliere is an easily-
traceable .sympathetic system. In a frog there is a pair of
ganglionic chains on each side of the backbone, miniatures of
those steen in the mannnalia : from these are derived all nerves
and ganglia of the great solar plexus or network which lies on
the back of the stomach, and the cardiac plexus lying round
the heart and providing the local control of its movements : the
}
i-'i
ii
' i
'284 THi; ouKUX and (Ujowth of thk moral instinct.
rcmainiiiH' lifilf-dozcii plexast'.s aru all prosciit, as in hif>'hor
types, to cuiitrol the opei'atioiis of the liver, kidneys, intestines,
hladderand reproductive orj-'ans. (Marshall, p. 82.) The least
advanced of these cold-bloodeil animals in this respect are the
snakes, in which tlie sympathetic is to be followed only by
H well-trained obsei'ver and with much care. In these tlie
y-anj;-lia are almost entirely absent, and I have never seen a
si-ii of a plexus. Schleuel says {Snakes, p. (}(>) that "the
•^reat sympathetic nerve interlaces in so many points with
the va<;-us that it is impossible to trace its orinin with accu-
racy ". Huxley remarks that in tin snakes " the sympathetic
is not distinct from the spinal i'. the j^reater part of the
trunk " (AiKif. nf Vcrh-hnift's, p. 2()()), and \Va<;'ner (Physio/.,
p. 51.S) says that in these animals the va^'us practically takes
the place of the sympathetic except in so fai- as the spinal
cord supplies nerves for the viscera. In all other amphibians
and reptiles, the sympathetic is well develojx'd, and they are
all to some small decree capable of emotional conditions.
When fro<is are full of health, and when the spi-ino-tinie has
roused them to amatoiy passions, their croakinn-, prolono-ed
throu<ih the ni<>'ht, is oidy their maimer of workinj;- off" super-
fluous energy in a way that facilitates the matin^^of the pairs,
but at the Hap of an owl's win<;s or tim shadow of a stork
above them an instant hush will indicate how the touch of
fear will calm them down to a salutary silence. I have seen
a larji'e lizard ( Vtirdii as) asleep in the sun and ;rently stroked its
head till it awoke. The first f^-lance of its eye threw it into (]uite
a strono' emotional condition ; its neck swelled, its tail stiffened,
its throat hissed, and the whole animal was roused for the
open-mouthed dart of its ra^e. I have seen the colour of tliis
lizard's ton^'ue completely chan^vd with fear.
Froys, when ani;ry, are able to swell, and chameleons at
the sight of a snake underj^'o an almost instantaneous chanjre of
colour, (hie apparently to alterations in the lilood circulation.
(Xitturr. xviii., ()!)().) Many lizards can inflate their bodies,
and some species of snakes expand theii' necks, and hiss
Avhen an<j:ry: a few, especially the rattlesnake, rouse their
bodies (o make tlnvateniny noises of otiier kin<ls. If one
teases a snake or lizai'd with a stick, the eyes sei'in to I)e on
NSTIXCT.
1 ill hi^lier
I, iiiti'stinus,
Tlie k'iist
)ect are the
Oil only by
1 tlie.se the
'Ver seen a
that "the
loiiits witli
witli accu-
yuipathetic
•art oF the
(I'/ri/sio/.,
oally takes
tlio spinal
iinphihians
d they are
conditions.
H'-tiine has
prolon^'ed
; otl" super-
t' tlu! pail's,
of a stork
s touch of
have seen
stroked its
; into quite
il stitiened,
'il for the
)ur of this
ueleons at
ehan^'e of
irculation.
'ir iKxlies,
and hiss
mse tlieir
<. If one
1 to h(! on
THK NERVOUS HASIS OF THK EMOTIONS.
285
tire, from the tension, I suppose, of the muscles behind tliem
the whole l)ody swells with raj^e, and if the teasin- b,- c.mi-
tmued the stick will be seized with such fury tbat on.- may
lift the animal by it, and it will hanu^ i,, air supp<jrt,Ml by the
^mp o. the jaw muscles. I have .ibserved in many experi-
ments that Hve minut"s()f such teasino^ will raise the tempera-
tui'e of a lizard, wei^diino- about thre(-.|uai't.Ts of a pound
fully four-tentiis of a deo-rc,, centiorade. ll..ptiles are cer-
tainly capable of the emotions of i-H<re and of fear.
Hut ill no cold-blooded creature is the capacity for (.motion
really oreat: and .so clo.se is the connection between the warm-
blooded coi-dition and ...notional susceptibility that it is
ji'enerally realised in our conniion exjiA'ssions. A warm-
hearted man, a cold-blooded villain, and .scoivs of analoo(,us
terms imply a popular conception of a connection which truly
exists in fact. For .lelicate emotional powei-s becai.K. j.romi-
nent in animals as the ivsult of their d,.v,.|(,pino. capacity for
mahitainino. a .leHnite temperatuir. Hirds ami mammals,
winch alone of all animals po.ss^ss the pouvr of r(.<.>ulatin^^
their body heat, do ,so entirely l)y means of th.. symlwthetic
system, in which of cours., must be includ..d the 'vaso-motor
centre in the spinal bulb. It is this which adju.sts the ilow of
blood, and adapts the action of the sweat-j-^lands so as to
proiluce a most marvellous uniformity of t(.mperature.
To brin^' about this result the nerves of the sympathetic
re(iui-.>d to be made immensely more intricate and susci.i)tible,
and as their delicacy and controlling, power increased they took
on also more delicate capacities of such emotions as were pre-
servative; a more dan^-ercus raj-e, a more prudent fear; a
more fiery amatoriness, a f.-reater joy and a hieher vivacity in
hie: and alon^. with these they l.enan to display useful emo-
tions of a new sort, maternal solicitude, and social affections.
Develoi'ment ok the VVahm-Bi.ooded Tvi-e.
There seem to me to i)e two caus..s of this ^reat develop-
ment of the syiiipathetic system whose business it; is to eonti-ol
the heat production and to regulate tiie temperature. The one,
^i
i!
ill
III
5
1
I
* I
II
23() THK ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THK
MORAL INSTINCT.
wliicli is ciirlifi- in time, but of less importance in tlie end, is
tlie value of warmth in the hreedinu' period: tlie otlier, ol;"
later development, i)ut of mucli f^Teater importance, is the
value oF heat in promotin<;- activity and fulness of life.
The cold-blooded animals follow very closely the tempera-
ture of the medium in which they live. If they are of sluoo-ish
species, that concomitance is very perfect. I have kept a
s^iecies of this sort [Ci/c/dJiis nii/HH) so peculiarly slu^-o'ish as
to be popularly known by the name of .Sleepino' Lizard.
Sometimes 1 h;id only two specimens, sometimes as nianv as
eio-ht in one box ; I have taken the temperature of each during;
two years, moi'nin^' and evening;', lor pi'riods of a montli or so
at al! seasons <,;" the year. When the temperature of the air
was rising- the li/ards would be colder, when falling- they
would l)e warmer, but after a period of steady weather, Hzar<is
and ,:ir were always closely alike in point of heat. Tnder
any circumstances I have never seen the lizards differ by more
than 2 C. from the air, through a ran^e lyino' betM'een 12%uid
32", and, while the average of all my 2.S0 observations is 184
for the air, it is IM'1 for the lizaj-ds. When I sank two
lizards up to the neck in five (gallons of water and placed a
lamp nndi'rneath which wai-med the water at the averau'e
rate ol 288 per hour, I found that the lizards warmed up
at the averaifc rate of 2-89 ' per hour.
These are creatures which rarely exert themselvi's; the
food they iHMpiiri- is slioht. 1 have kejit one for six months
without sustenance ; it seemed not to be inconveiuenced.
More active species reipiire food, which they con\-ert into
work, of which a portion must necessarily appear as heat.
Thas even a cohbblooded animal, if any way active, will in
^a'l I'ral be a little above the temperature of its medium.
Acc(!rdin<.>- to Dumeril (^vi/?. (/cs Sclciircs N<if.,\vn., p. 1),
froijs can maintain themselves about .six-tenths of a dej^ree
above the temperature of the water in which they oi-dinarily
exist ; and the more the watei- is cooleil the moiv marked is
this dirterence. Hunter found that a viper could maintain its
temperature about 5'.5 C. above the surrounding aii\ Hut
Dumeril found tluit wi
IS
py
iH and boas the ditt'erence w;
"generally about 1' C. The lieart's blood of newly kille.l
INSTINCT,
THE NERVOrs BASIS OF THK ICMOT
IONS.
siicakes I have found to he lietween V and r al
temperature of the air. Fi
in air, hy evaporation from tjie skin, but snakes have li'ttl
no power of that sort. Accord
Sc
I'Sl
le
)ove tl
■oirs can resist a strowy heat, when
e (jr
5h
lences Nat, xiii., p. 20), the newt
above
in<i- to Dutroche {Aw. d
can
p itsei
I roni
the temperature of its medium; the turtk\ 1
and the common "reen lizard fr
to
to
^, „ '"'" ■* to 7^ above the air.
Max Furljrniger ^ives this lizard 7 ' of excess, while species of
blind-worm can rise as much as S" abo\'e the air.
I have taken the temperature of many tish, and never found
that HI one drawn .piickly up there was so much as a decree of
ditference between it and the sti-atum of water from which it
was drawn. But if the averaov Hsh is surtere.l to wri..,de
lon<r m net or on hook it often warms itself thereby a decree
or even two. This, as (Jiinther seems to su^rirost (p. 4.5(5 if^
'le prol)able explanation of the som.'wl.at hio'h temperatures
occasionally remarked in Hsh. ])r. John Davy (Phil. Tran.s
1844, p. .57) records that some of tlu mackerel familv (h'awn
out of the Sea of iMarmora were H' to 4" warmer than the
water from which they w.-i'e taken. In the long list he
j.-ives (Edin. Phil. Jour., 1825, p. 800), the fish dirte-r in
f.-eneral from the water al)out T to 2'. In the case of a
bonito it was noticed that wliile the sea was f)-2' C. the blood
in the heart of the fish was 10\ but a thermometer slipped in
between the muscles re<.-istered a local heat of 10-4°, indieatino-,
as I think, the effect of a prolonged struggle before the aninuU
was lauded.
The inference is a perfectly safe one, as Ma.-tin long .uro
showe.l, that cold-bloo.le,l animals left ,d rest remain at the
temperature of their medium, Ijut that after a period of
activity the work they have -lone appears partly as an in-
creased temperature of their own bodies, the' heat thus
generated being, however, soon .lissiimted again.
It is to be noticed that internal action when the body i.s
apparently cpiiet may have the same etfect. Duti-oche showed
that the process of digestion warms a snake IVoi i 2' to 4" in the
course of twenty-four hours ; moulting wari
about half a degree al)ove tl
1 the averai'e
holil showed that frog.s, both male and
le general t.'m))erature ; and IJart-
lemale, warm
n
up
1 1
A'\i
11 U
' ii ''
I !
J
t-''ii
i
•1
f
'i ,
i'' 1
■J M
J '■
n
I '
I I
288 THE ORIOIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
slijrlitly at the amatory season. But very much lower animals
exhibit a slight power of eonvertini,^ their food enerjry into
body heat ; oysters, snails, cray-fish, crabs, beetles, jrlow- worms,
and leeches can warm themselves slifjfhtly, and Professor
Valentin found that polypi, medusa, echinoderms were equally
able with molluscs, crustaceans and cephalopods to maintain
an excess of one-fifth to three-fifths of a degree C. above their
medium.
This, however, is very trifling compared with the powers
of the more emotional insects, "specially of ants, bees and
wasps. In the pupa stage they follow very strictly the tem-
perature of their media, the average of thirty-four observa-
tions of George Newport {Phil. Trans., 1«37, p. 259) showing
that at that inert period of their existence, insects kept them-
selves only one-tenth of a degree above the air temperature.
The fully developed insect, under conditions of rest, is ecpially
dependent on its environment, but when excited it rises
rapidly in temperature. A bee for instance, may exert its
wings as if in flying, but witho;it moving from the spot; as
all this expenditure of energy eventuates in no sort of work,
it nuist appear in the form of heat, and so, as Newport found,
a nest of bees when greatly excited could in half an hour
raise their temperature 8-5" C, this being the result of twelve
experiments on a nest of thirty individuals. The same nest
more violently agitated gave as the mean of seven observa-
tions a rise of 5-8 '. At times when bees are naturally excited,
as at the swarming period, their great activity raises their
temperature sometimes as much as 22°. There are other
times when, though the bees are nuiescent if left alone, the
least cause of e.xcitement i-apidly warms them. In such a
case, and while the temperature of the hive is practically that
of the outside air, a sharp tap is enough to raise it by 17° C.
iu leas than half an hour. (Newport.) According to the ob-
servations of Juch and of Newport, the temperature of an ant's
nest is generally some 7° or 8 above that of tlu^ surrounding
air, but if the ants are in any way excited, the ditt'erence is
soon increased to 12° or 13°.
NSTINCT.
wer animals
energy into
low-worms,
i Professor
'ere equally
o maintain
above their
the powers
f, bees and
ly the teni-
xr observa-
9) showinjf
kept them-
inperature.
, is equally
id it rises
Y exert its
le spot : as
rt of work,
port found,
f an hour
- of twelve
i same nest
n observa-
ly excited,
aises their
are other
alone, the
In such a
ically that
by 17° C.
to the ob-
of an ant's
rroundinff
rt'erence is
THE NERVOUS BASIS OF TH7-: EMOTIOXS. 239
IXFLUENCE OV TemPEILVIVUE ON HATCHING.
It has been already indicated that a rise of temperature is
he factor which -luickeris fae period of hatching. Semper
tells us i^,^^al lAfr, p. 129) that he has seen a tempia-
Tla! '^'^' ""^ "' ^ «lay youn^r crustaceans which
M « 7r^^ '^ "'''^- ^^""""y observations of Weissman,
Mernheld, Dixey, Stan.lfuss and others show that e.^.s of
butterflies hatch out with increase.l h.at in a -reatly reduced
tune and, accor.lin«- to Huxley (Natare, xxiii., (510^, horrin<.
ova kept at 58° F. will hatch in from six to ei^dit days : kept at
50 they rciuire eleven days : at 46° they do not hatch before
hfteen .lays; and at 88° they re.|uire forty days. These
numbers point to a law that the time for hatching, is inversely
proportional to the square of the temperature, that tempera-
ture being reckoned above a certain initial temperature. In
the case ot herring, so far as these figures are enough to
justify a conclusion, this initial temperature is ;y C below
treez'.ng-point. Converting temperatures F. to others in the
O. scale we have : —
Temperiitme.
10" „
117= ,.
HKRKrxc;.
Time OI)serve(l.
40 diivs.
11 „
<i to 8 ..
TiineCiilcuIiited.
40 (la\-.,
lO.-)
8-4
During three successive .seasons I hatched out th.- spawn
of various species of frogs, floating tlu-m in glass vessels on
the surface of thirteen little tanks each containing Ave
.^mllons ot water. By lamps burning <lay and night these
were kept at definite temperatures. For each set of experi-
ments I divi.led one an.l the same mass of spawn into
thirteen parts of 100 eggs each, and kept them in an
ascending series of tempt>ratures, each being U° above the
one next It. The spawn at 80° C. always requii"e<l less than
a day and a half to liatch, but at 12° the time was about ten
•lays. I made eleven sets of experiments of this so.-t all
;: !
in
ii
uv
:n!!
•i li
i
1
240 THK ohktIn and growth of the moral instinct.
consistent with the hiw I have stated. I shall give liere only
the results of the last two, which I carried out with great care.
In each glass vessel there were al-,»'ays 100 eggs kept at the
one temperature; some eggs would hatch a little earlier,
others an hour or two later than the rest of their .-et. I noted
the time when twenty were liatched, then when fifty and
when eighty, and took the mean of these three times as the
time of hatching. Of course this cannot give accuracy within
an hour, and indeed, in the case of slow hatchinsr in the
cooler water, accuracy within two or three hours is not
possible. Absolute coincidence of numbers is therefore not to
be looked for. In each of the two last sets there were thir-
teen bunches of eggs, but one was accidentally ruined when
oidy half complete. The remaining twenty-five cases are set
out, lieing blended in the order of descending temperature, the
actual time of hatching being given in the middle column and
the time required according to the law in the last column, the
law being that
, ^ m
where m = 29,300
and (I = - r C.
/ being the time of hatching, and T the temperature in centi-
grade ilegrees.
HATCHING PERIOD OF A FROG (HYLA AUIIEA).
Teiiipi-mture.
Time
Dhaerved.
Time Calculated.
30-8^
C.
3a
urn 1*8.
33-1 1
loars.
30-7°
)>
34
»j
33-2
»j
28-7°
n
30
»»
38-2
»»
28-1°
JJ
39
j»
SO'O
?j
2l)-6°
1J
38
))
44-0
»)
2(5°
»»
48
jj
4<;!»
jj
25'2°
JJ
50
)»
50
TJ
24-3°
?)
52
)j
54'7
)»
23-0'^
JJ
50
»»
50*0
)J
23"
)J
50
IT
00-G
>»
22-2°
?)
(>5
Jl
051
»>
221°
»1
(>8
1»
<)5'<)
11
21 '7°
215°
1)8 -O
(ii)-8
[NSTINCT.
^e hero only
li ffvaat care,
k'ept at the
ittle earlier,
et. I noted
■n fifty an<l
times as the
iracy within
liing in the
3ur.s is not
•efore not to
e were thir-
•uined when
3ases are set
)erature, the
column and
column, the
ire in centi-
JIIEA).
iited.
irs.
THE NERVOUS HASIS OF THE EMOTIONS.
241
Temperature
20'(i° C.
lfl'7°
?J
18-9°
»
18-5°
)J
18P
»»
18"
lor
JJ
15 (r
)J
139=
13-6°
11
71
12-3°
Jt
12-2°
n
Time Olwerved
7!l lionrs.
82
„
8;-)
1}
88
?»
107
V
112
Brok
J)
I'n,
132
M
185
100
230
»>
230
i»
Time Calculated.
70'2 hours.
83-8 „
91-5 „
95-8 „
99-8 „
lOlo ,.
137-5
17<V3
184-5
229-0
233-7
A similar law would seem to apply to the hatchino- of
turtle and lizard eggs, but though I have spent some time in
seeking to determine the point, I have lost two seasons
through the difficulty of getting perfectly fresh eggs, and
through accidents of transit and of heat regulation. The
results obtained, though not inconsistent with the law
enunciated, ai-e still too scrappy to be conclusive. Yet they
establish the simpler fact that a greatly increased speed of
hatching accompanies a high temperature. Lizard's eggs
(Hydrosaurus varies) which at 28-2° required five and a half
days for hatching, took seventeen days at 21-1".
And this is the only point with which we are here con-
cerned, that a rise of temperature not excelling 6° centigrade
may often reduce the time required for hatching from three
weeks to one week. Considering what an immense ad-
vantage it is to a species to have its eggs rapidly hatched,
and the young ones early able to avoid their various dangers'
it is on the face of it probable that this means will be
fre<iuently adopted. For the species which ac.piires the
faculty of warming its eggs will eventually preponderate.
Not that it will always necessarily follow that such a species
must use its advantage only in the direction of a lessened
time of hatching. Sometimes it may rather employ it in pro-
(Uicing a superior type without diminishing the time. If a
lizard and a rabbit be of tlie same weight, but the latter
inuch warmer than the oLlier, then it might be quite able to
develop its eggs in one (juarter of the time, but as a matter
VOL. II. IQ
it
I
I i
It ■'
242 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
of fact it may liave made use of its <jfmit.T speed not to ^o
the same distance in less time, but to ^o a j^reater dis-
tance in tlie same time. The lizard at 15° will take thirty
• lays for hatching: the rabbit at 40° will also take thirty
days from the fertilisation of y he ovum to the extrusion of
the^ young one : the advantage in the latter cast; is not a
saving of time, but an opportunity of higher organisation.
Sometimes the result is a compromise, the species using its
capacity for heat generation partly to shorten the time and
partly to elevate ti.e type.
It is curious to notice how many animals seem to have an
instinctive perception of the value of heat in hatching. The
solicitude of ants about their pup;t^ is well known, how they
carry them out when the sun is shining and take them back in
cold and cloudy weather to the warmth of the nest,which,indee<l,
they increase by a special ilegree of activity apparently for
the purpose of assisting ilevelopment. In the case of bees the
experiments of Newport leave little doubt that this is the
instinctive purpose. In a hive certain bees, popularly known
as nurse bees, are detailed for the hatching service, and these
by great activity of respiration, running up to as many as
240 breaths in a minute, are able to increase their heat-
production twentyfold. Strange to say, this power is never
exhibited in regard to the eggs, but is always reserved for the
nymph stage. Round a nymph the mirse bees crowd in
clusters, each of whicli by its activity reaches a temperature
of 30° C. (Phil. Trans., 1837) when the air is only 20°. New-
port gives the elevation of temperature thus caused in
thirteen cases which he observed. The average is a trifle
under 10° C, but this advantage is sufficient to hatch out a
nymph in eight hours ; the last eight or ten minutes being a
period of special activity. When the young bee is hatched it
is very sensitive to cold, and crowds in among the warm
bodies of its clustered nurses.
Of all the invertebrates only the most intelligent and
emotional, the ants, bees and wasps, show this capacity.
Aniong the lower vertebrates the same feature assumes a very
ditlerent form. It is seen only in a few species, and then
consists of a general wanning up of the mother at breedin-'
VSTINCT.
not to fifo
reater dis-
take thirty
ake thirty
ctruaion of
is not ji
^anisation.
^ usinjf its
3 time and
to have an
linff. T1k(
, how they
'ni back in
ich, indeed,
irently for
af bees the
his is the
rly known
and these
i many as
Jieir heat-
er is never
^ed for the
crowd in
mperature
10°. New-
caused in
is a trifle
atch out a
3S being a
hatched it
the warm
igent and
capacity.
jes a very
and then
breeding,'
THK NERVOUS ]USIS OF THK EMOTIONS. 243
pa.t of It which forms a substitute for a won.b. I„ the
observations n.ade by the U.S. Fisheries Commission in IW
(see lYatrur, xxi.. 1.50), it is stated tluit " Hshes develop .
measurable quantity of heat which is more apparent! rini
vereT:m;i;:T ;h^'" '''^''''' '"'^''''^ ->^' "^^^e
weit .i and 5 5 above the sea temperature, while the do.-Hsh
cxamp e of this power A female with mature youn<. i„ the
oviduc stood nearly 7" above the water, whil^ the^. ,^ ^
hmseK.s were warmer still, bein. ll-.5° above sea tenpl-
tuie. Anxious to .et more definite information, I .ive
a commission to some fishermen to catch for me a n imbe^ of
-nail female sharks well advanced in the breeding, so
the r;Sl f'T ""'' '^P"^"^"'^ °' -^^"'^"^ «-^m/.-.,'seven f
them full of hyiiif. young ones. While the water they had
been in for six hours was at 17-fr, they stood at IT'SMn th
rectum, and 10-1° in the heirt hnf ^L ^< ^ m tnt
10-4° nn fV,n ' *^^ young ones were at
10 4 on the average, one of them being at 20-8° when its
blood of -'fiT teniperature was only 1S°. The venous
bloo.l of hsh IS always warmer than the arterial for
some of the internal work the animal does must appear i.
<n^.y by the stream of venous blood to be cooled in the <nlls
and so returned as arterial blood at a lower tempe at '
But suppose that the fish has acquired the habit o kc"p:
mg Its eggs within the oviduct, and that in consequenc^l
somewhat congested state of the blood-vessels therein enl es
which indeed was the case in the female sharks I examb d'
t IS then conceivable enough that the heat elsewhere r;^-
lated may be carried largely into that organ bv the fulk; biit
slower stream of warm blood pouring through it. AI v^.t
brates are thus liable to be warmed in partsV congestion of
these parts. I have seen in various mamnuds a state o
arnatory excitement produce a change of several degre ,n
Z T't ''.''T' f" ^^""^" ^' ^"^"^ <^'.servations''givii;g
heat of /,/V r ^'''"" ''^ '''"'' ""^^y P™^^'^^''' tha?
heat of this kind carried to the womb or oviduct must be
benehcial to the ova, and that a tendency to coiK^estio and
heating of ovaries and oviducts would follow '" '-'"*^"" '^"^
f<
m
>■ •■"•"m
7->.
i*^
!;■ \
! .
•
!::
-»,
f
I
i
1 1
if!
!h i
m
ii J
■r (i
»R
i r
'244 THK OKKIIN AND (iliOWTIl OF THK MOHAL INSTINCT.
But tills liiiiit is (Icrivud IVoiii tlie "•{.■iicnil iiitriiuvl activity
of the tisii, iiml u vory prohalilu cH't'ct of sucli )i oluiii<,fL' when
once initiated M'ould he to increase this activity and' elevate
the teni|)eratui-(.' of tlie whole animal. A sinjrle contraction of
the lar<;ei' muscles in a froj;- will raise tlie temperature of the
animal alujut the ei^ht-thousandth part of a dei^ree. A sinjjle
s-pasmodic etioi-t of all the muscles may he i'ou;;hly estimated,
therefore, to warm the whole hody ahout the one-thousaJidth
pan of a decree: and if the fro^r were \\\\\\\r by a strin^^ in
the air and made two spasmodic jerks pei- second, it would
warm i'.self a de^ivt; in ahout eio-ht minutes, just as I find
thai, a n<an can warm himself the tenth of a de<,a'ee by lifting-
twenty pounds half his own hei>>-ljt thirty times in (luick
succession. If he were not provided with a means of ridding-
himself of all superfluous heat, he could go on in this way
ac({uiring an increasing temperature. Tlie iish and reptiles
have no such i-egulating system, and a large part of the work
they do must appear in the form cjf body heat.
No very great degree of activity, therefore, would be re-
(juired in the female shark to keep her internal organs at the
two or three degrees excess which various observations re-
cord, and it is easy to realise that whilst the oviducts were
congested there would be congregated in these organs a dis-
proportionately augmented share of heat. The ditierence
recorded by the U.S. Fisheries Commission would imply a
reduction of the hatching period from fifty days to fifteen,
and it is very easily conceivable that when active females
had acquired this greatly increased opportunity of leaving
progeny, tiie habit of thus warming themselves up at the
breeding season would assert itself more and more.
I am inclined to suggest, therefore, that the warm-blooded
condition of the higher animals took its earliest origin in
this tendency, though its innnense development was due to
later causes. The frog at breeding season warms itself up a
little, though in its case the provision for heating the eggs is
generally found in .some system whereby in sunny weather
they are doated on the surface of the water. Viviparous
li/jdrds apparently warm up when with young. I found in a
series of observations on four that the females with eggs
, I
jueel
Till.; MIIIVOF-S liASIS OF THK KMOTIOXS. 2-15
in tlunu avera-..,l -.V C. wann...- than tin- ...ai.s, an.l in a
srcon, series of Hve lixanls, ol,serv..,l -laily during two .nontl.s
tl,e .htference was -2 . H„t as [ ....vv,- suec....,!,.,! in .vtti.H^ a
lizanl to l,r>M^. fortl. h,,- y.mno-, all the females .Ivin- in ea„-
t-v,ty lon«- hefore the e.o. were ripe. I have .'.o .T.-ans I.F
sayn.^^ to what extent this Iwatin^r p.ocess may ^o
But w>th the snakes our knowle.l^re is fortunately more ,Ie-
hn.te. Dun.oril fouml by a lon^. series of observations that a
boa un.Iei- or.hnary circumstances rarely excoe.lc.l the tem-
perature of the air by so n.ueh as a ,\e^r.o, the averai,.- bein.^
about half a de^a-eo. (A,ni. dr., Srinu'os Naf 185-7 pi"
A.l.lors place.1 in a slowly heate.l box followe'.l closelv the
temperature of the air, till at 41 ' C. they died of heat "
Not only, howeve.-, do .li^.estion and moultin.- wa. m up
snakes as already mentioned, but at the br-MJin-r time they
become hi^dier in temperature. The best observa'^tions as vvt
ma<le are those upon incubating, species. In the careful ac-
count o-,ve.n by Forbes (Pror. Zonl. Sue., l««l. p. ^0) of the
rise m temperature exhil,ited by broodin^r fe.nales, we see
that a Python Seb;e, durin- the eif^hty-two .lays „f its in-
cubation, stood at an excess of S-H^ to 1 1" C. above the air A
Python Molurus ,n>der the same circumstances, coiling, round
h^- ^«Ks,^'ave as the hi^d.est excess .hn-in<r six weeks only
5-4 but she faded to hatch her e^.^s, ti.ou.h they were fertile.
Forbes notes that thoufrh n.ale and fen.ale were coiled side
by side all the time, the latter was uniforndy r to -T wanner
than her mate. Valenciennes, who at the Jardin ,les Plantes
was very successful in hatching, out younj. .serpents, recorded
as the temperature between the folds of the broo.lin.^ feu^ile
no less than 41-5^ C, being above the level of any mamn.al,
and e.iual to the avera«-e of bir.ls. Schleo^el (Snakes p Oi
asserts as the result of long experience that no snake s e-.^s
wdl hatch at a temperature under H^ C, while many re(,uiira'
minimum of 2o° C. ^ i "
We find th.' reptiles become mr.re and more scarce as we
travel away from the e,,uator, probably becau.se of the want
of heat to hatch them out: they are abundant in hut n.oist
localities where the conditions of hatching are well satisHed
But m all cases, even in e.piatorial regions, it must be an
'
m
li
n
I if
1! i
r-Tr's«
IW
f
([
■}
''■\
24() THK OHIGIN AND (iROWTH OK THK MOHAI. INSTINCT.
advuntfi^re when a mother l)y tlie warmth ol' her hody can
make up for ileficieucie.s of lieat occurriii^f (hirinjf the hatching
period.
i I
In
'rKMPEHATUKK IN MaMMAI.S AND BlKDS.
Passiiiif fi-om reptiles we cross the borders into tlie warm-
blooded animals at the level of the monotremes. These are
truly to be classed amon^' the hi;,dier type, for they have
some power, thou<;-h not <,n-eat, of maintaininj;- a temperature
permanently hi>;'her than that oi' tli' ir medium. Baron Mik-
loiiho-Maclay's observations showed that the duck-bill platy-
pus maintained itself only lo' C. above the temperature of
the water in which it dwelt, the avera^^e beinjj 25", or al)out
14' below the <;-eneral mannnalian level. The species of
echi<hia which the baron observed <;ave an excess of 7.', , but
another species, of which I kept fourteen specimens under
observation, ^^ave an avera;>-e excess of 8-2 . The <;'eneral
re.sult is that whilst the lii^her mannnals under precisely the
same circumstances keej) themselves nearly 20' above the tem-
perature of the air, the monotremes could maintain an excess
ranj,nuu- only from 1-5° to 8-2 '. But it is worthy of obser-
vation that at the l)reedin<;' time they warm up a little.
Lendenfeld tells us (Zoohnjincli,')' Anzi'it/er, 188(5, p. {)) that
at that season the female echidna is about 2' on an average
hi^diei- in temperature than at (jther times ; the skin of the
pouch becomes redilened, and there seems to be a sort of local
inHanunation <(oin<;- forward. When the female lias young in
her pouch her temperature nui}- rise to 35°, or as much as 7 '
above her normal.
A step higher brings us into the lowest species of the
marsupials. By the kindness of Mr. Le Souiif, of the Mel-
bourne Zoological rJardens, I was able to take the temperature
of some healthy wcjmbats. Next to the monotremes they are
the coldest blooded of all mammals, their averao-e Ijeino-
scarcely 84°. No marsupial at its maximum reaches the
mniinuim of the higher nuunmals. Petaurus stands at an
average of 85-5°, whilst (hisyurus I have found to range only
lij'
STINCT.
THK NKHVOUS IJASIS OF THK EMOTIONS.
247
1)01 ly cau
i hatching
:h(i wariii-
Tlie.se are
they liave
mperature
iiron Mik-
)ill platy-
■rature of
. or al)out
species of
f 7A\ Imt
nis under
e general
ci.sely tlie
> the tein-
an excess
of ohser-
a little.
[X 0) that
II averaj^e
:i!i of the
•t of local
yonn<i^ in
uch as 7
es of the
the Mel-
iiperature
1 they are
ife being
Lches the
ds at au
nge only
a trille highei-. Di-. Sclcnka
records i'oi- didelphys an average
of :}() ; I found from eighteen oh.servations on phalanger tli?a
the average was -StM, hut the kangaroo family gave, as an
avei-age of four species, .'{()-7', only a trifle under the tem-
perature of man. All these degrees of warmth, however,
manifestly varied with the temperature of the .surrounding
air to an extent never witne.s.sed i,, man. This was .shown hy
a long series of observations 1 made on the koala {Phanool.
mrtoH elnernis), w which the weather always changed the
records for the a:i,uia!, » e diH'erence between a cold day and
a warm one rai ging to f. Mr ami often enough to nearly Hve
degree.s.^ The .'Uit upial . ms approaches, but does not (juite
attain either the ' i^h t/nperature or the fixity of tempern-
ture which characl..,n.se the higher mammals. And I ob-
served that the females when witii young ones were always,
without exception, warmer than the males, or than the females
without young. While the latter, as au average of twenty-
five observations, gave :J5'5\ the females with young were at
'MiT. In this species there are two teats, but never more
than one young ; only a single teat, therefore, is functional in
any one season, and it enlarges while the other remains di-
minutive. I always found that side of the pouch which had
the functional teat, warmer than the other, the average of
the one being 3()fi', of the other ;j(j .
The result of these o])servations seems to show that the
marsupials form an ascending .scale of temperature, the highest
record for each species being found in the female at the time
when, she is with young. It seems to me. therefore, very
ixwsible that the tendency to a warm-blooded condition may
have been in the primitive mammal a distinct advantage to
the female in the ripening and developing of her egg. It is
plain that wnth the bird the warmth of her body is very
essential in this respect, and high though it be in general it
.seems always to rise at the brooding period. I have taken
the temperature of thirty-six fowls, lifted from their perches
by night, and found it to average 41° C. exactly ; while in the
case of twelve lifted from the nests in which they were brood-
ing the temperature was 41-44^ C. A large number of fowls
roaming about by day were caught as quietly as possible; their
I:
I
I' ■ n
s
f ■
248 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
temperature was 41-2S' on tlie avera^re. But a miniber wore
also caught which thougli known to be I.roo.ly ha. I not been
allowed to sit. Their temperature avera-^e.l 417°. A' similar
thou<,^h smaller series of observations on ten tui'key-hens gave
to those wliich were brooding an excess of one-third of a
degree. Such an elevation would shorten tlu- period of incuba-
tion of a turkey less than a day, and I do not, therefore, attach
any great importance to it unless as a relic of a once much
more (lecided tendency to a general warming during the
breeding period.
l!.
■hi
The Limit to Warmth of Bi.oou.
When muscle is warmed up it becomes moi-e readily
respon.sive to stinndus. A.^ Waller puts it (Plujs^olofjy, p.
.'53.3), a cold muscle is like a weary nuiscle : both are sluggish.
Hence for the capture of food and for escape from en'i^mies
the warmer animal has tlie ailvantage. Yet this change
cannot go on without limit. Foi- there is u temperature at
whicli the chemical composition of the albumens begins to
alter, and, at a point a little beyond this, muscle loses its con-
tractile power, and the fatal phenomenon of heat rigour comes
on. The hearts of some cold-bloode.l animals cease to beat
when heated to 30° C, but in general the heart's action in-
creases up to about 40°. (Stirling, Prwf. Plijisio., p. 222.) It
then begins to decline, ceasing altogether at about 4,5\ The
results of difterent observations vary soinewhat. Rosenthal
places the maximum of efficiency at 4.5'. But Michael Foster,
following the general verdict, places it a little above 35%'
with a \jry slow decline until at 4.5"^ a frog's nuiscles become
rigid with heat, wliile the mammalian nmscle suffers the
heat rigour only at 50° Kirke, in his Phydolofiij, states that
all trace of excitability in muscle is lost at 6.5° C. But of
course the death of the animal occurs long before its muscles
become so warm as that.
There is, tlierefore, a very .letinite limit at wliich tho
heating process must stop, and the animal mechanism will
be efficient in proportion as it can .safely approach that high
THE NERVOUS BASIS OF THE ICMOTIOXs. 049
temperature at which muscle is most active. H,n the ne.u-er
It approaches, the greater is the .lan<jer that aeci-Lntal varia-
tu^^^.s will carry it h.^on-l tlu> fatal limit. Man averaovs ahout
^1 , au.l that comparatively lii^j, tempe.-ature :;ives him his
activity, his zest for life: but if a warm -lav or a piece of
violent exertion, or some other accident, were ahl.. to raise
him to 43; death would occur. Indeed a ris.. of •> C is
serious, and one of 4 most .lan^rerous, ^^■h[U~ there is, 1 under-
st, n<l, no case on record of recovery after a rise of 6' C.
TemI'EUATUHE-CoxTUOL ok the SVMI.ATHETR' SVSTEM.
Tlie warm-blooded animals are, therefore, n< ,t free to exten. 1
their advanta-e without limit, an.l if they had no controllin-
power which should act as a o^vernor to the syst-.n, keeph."
Its temperature steady, they woul.l infalliblv perish from the
earth. That coiitrolliufr power is found in t'he vasomotor .le-
partment of the sympathetic system, one of whose functions
It IS to retaliate the How of blood to all th,. various parts of
the bo.ly. The maiden who comes in Hushed from her ..ame
of lawn-tennis is bein^r cooled by tlie free How of bloo.l thimii-h
the skill, so that it may lose its excess of heat bv- proximity
to the air. The same youn^. lady, after sittin- a whole day
.sewing, looks pale, because, by her want of ex..rois,., she has
tailed to produce enough of heat, an.' her bodv conserves all
she has by keeping the blood in the deeper seked parts ami
losing as little as po.ssible at the surface. AH this process is
under the automatic control of tlu* vaso-motor d..partment of
the sympathetic system, and it is .lue to the developing
intricacy and delicacy of this most elaborate ran.iHcati.m not
only tliat animals are warm-bloo.led. but also that they can be
m without danger of collapse. When the standard warmth
18 exceeded, when the temperature rises beyond the limit of
safety, the vaso-motors open the small arteries which curl
around tho sweat-glan.ls ;-perspiration pou.^s forth, heat is
thus expended; and. in the r.rd,se.,uent evaporation of that
peivspiration, further cooling takes place. Then, wheiu'v..- a
chill touches the tine nerves of the sweat-glands, all the pores
\m
'Hi;
If I
■Jl
\i
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i \i
;: 1: Jil
)i
■■4 rv
!
Ill
T
(ir
^1
i if'-
f. P '
'2.')0 TH]': OHKilN AM) (UU)WTH OF THE MOHAL INSTINCT.
cloHO up, the iirferies contract, the blood forsakes the surface,
its heat is conserved; for skin is a \,iA con(hictor, and so by
an autonuitic process the temperature is kept constant near
the point of niaxiniuni activity with no risk of its rising to a
fatal extent.
But besides this damper process, tliere is another arialofi;ou.s
to stokino-; and this, too, would seem to be under the control
of the sympathetic. When the air ai'ouud the animal becomes
cold, the nerves of skin aii<l lunys apparently transmit to the
vaso-motor centi'e a stimulus which increases the body activity,
and so generates aun'inented heat. Mr. M. S. Pembery {Journ.
of Physiol., 1894, p. 407) has shown that a mouse enclosed in
an apparatus which can register the elimination of carl)onic
dioxide, automatically increases its vital activities with cold,
and diminishes them with heat. A rise from 18' to .'}4' de-
creased the chemical clianges of the body 20 per cent, within
two minute.s ; a fall from IW to 18' in a few minutes in-
creased these changes 74 per cent. But with longer intervals
and slower alterations of temperatiu-e the change was much
greater. A fail from ']2o to 11 in half an hour increased
the chemical activity 211 per cent., the animal helping to
provide its own warmth by its restlessness.
That the warm-l)looded animals slowly developed this
capacity of heat regulation seems clear from two lines of
reasoning, the first being that tlie higher an animal is in tlie
scale the more perfect is its heat adjustment; the second that
young animals, which as a coi-ollary from Von Baer's law are
reminiscent in scjnie degree of the forms from which the
species sprang, are all less capable th.an mature individuals of
resisting external changes of temperature.
In regard to the first point, the most elaborate observa-
tions are those of Rosenthal (Jiloloiflsrhe (\'iifr(ill>l<itf, 1880,
p. 70;}), who has siiown that a dog, enclosed in an apparatus
for registering its total heat production, can, after four days
of starvation, still maintain himself at his normal level; only
on the fifth and sixtli days does a small d"elini' become visible,
but not till the sevcMith is tlusre <uiy notable decline. Far
otherwise is it with the rabbit. In a day of starvation, its
heat pi'oduction fell oti" 50 per cent. Similar though by
STINCT.
e surface,
md so by
itaiifc near
rising to a
analogous
he control
il becomes
mit to the
y activity,
ly {.lourn.
inclosed in
f carbonic
with cold,
to 84^ de-
nt, within
inutes in-
r intervals
was much
increased
lelpiiig to
loped this
o lines of
is in the
licond that
r's law are
which the
ividuals of
3 observa-
liitt, 1880,
apparatus
four days
Bvel; only
me visible,
line. Far
■vation, its
hough by
THK NKKVors BASIS OF THK KMOTIOxXS.
251
no means exhaustive observatio.is lend a fair am unit of
assurance to the conclusion that the higher Uiannnals are bx-
far the nu)st efficient i., ma^.taining a characteristic ten.pera-
ture. 1 have seen mai-supials ;., oxcaLnt health e:vhibit a
<lady rang, of nearly 4' C. I have seen a pair which generally
gave tiu3 san.e recor.l. when one was kept for a morning in
t.ie shade ar.d the other in th. s,u., give records 3-5'^ C. apart.
Almost any marsupial after being lai.l ten minutes in a bri-^ht
sun wdl rise half a deg, in temperature.
In regard t„ the young of all warn, blooded anin-als we
hnd that they are practically eold-b!ood..d in thei,' nature.
Mr. Al. S Pen:bery has shown {linf. A.sov., Aug, 18!)4) that
the developn.g chick i-eacts to heat precisely like a cohl-
blooded annual. Heat increased, but cold <lecreased its out-
put of carbonic dioxide. After being hatched, however, it
ivipidly acpured the warm-bloo.led reaction, heat dinanishin-.^
cold mcreasing the carbonic diuxi.le output. Similar observr'
tion.s made „n n-wly hatche.l pigeons showe<l that their utter
helplessness at birth Mas connected with the .same reptile-like
incapacity: they are practically coM-bloo.led animals, but are
kept warm by heat derivd fr.,,,, the parent's body.
So also the .■xpei-imeuts of J)r. W. Hale White {.hnmi of
Anat. and Ph>js., xxv., p. 877) show that puppies at birth
are practically cold-blo.)ded that is, they have no power of
maintaining their own characteristic heat, but must be kept
warm from without. When the newly born animals are
lUst removed from their mother, they are found to be about
'il <..: hut they immediately begin to fall at the rate of half
a degree n. each interval of ten minutes, just as lizards
do, tnough not so fast, when transferred from a warm i.laco
to a cold. The total fall in the c.se of puppies was found
to be 18 m four hours, after which they ami the air stood
at the .same temperature. Similar results were observed in '
the ca.se of n,.w-born kittens, rab' .ts, rats, guinea-pigs an.l
.sparrows, and we know from other sources that the low.^r the
animal in th.. scale tl... more rapid is its fall under these
Circumsta.H',..., b,,t the le.ss likely to be fatal.
'';•'•' tuiman baby, for instance, falls least rapidly, but th.,
tall IS peculiarly injurious. Vet even in it the rule is per-
I
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■1 -,-
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1
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'ii
i
i
i
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|l( S ' ;'f I
1
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I
252 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MOHAL INSTINCT,
ceptiVjle that time must elapse before it acquires tlie power of
ffeneratiug its owu lieat. In almost every climate the babe
re(iuires to be warmly wrapped and to receive the body heat
of mother or nurse. For some days it avera<,fes only 34-7^, a
temperature that would rapidly prove fatal to an adult. The
more premature its birth, the lower the temperature at which
it can subsist, and the less its power of maintaining heat. A
seven months' babe averages no more than 32' even when well
wrapped up, and that is a temperature so low that the same
ch'ld if e(iually cold at any subse(|uent part of its life would
inevitably perish.
As the young are reminiscent of the development stages
of the species, it is no rash hypothesis, therefore, to assume
that the cold-l>looded animals steadily ac(iuired the power of
maintaining a lugh temperature, approaching as nearly as
was safe to the limit where heat destroys the chemical
efficiency of muscle. Moreover, as we see how intimately the
warmth of the parent conies to be associated with the survival
of the ortkpring, it is not too much to assume that it was in
the maternal period that animals first learnt to keep them-
selves warm.
The birds stand at the highest heat level for two reasons.
First, because the brooding process means a loss of efficiency
in heating the egg as compared with that of the animal
which keeps its embryo within it. I find that hens while
brooding average for their internal temperature 4144°, while
their eggs when broken show an internal temperature of
only 8!)°, and it .seems very plain that if the eggs are to
be kept at the temperature of maximum brooding efficiency,
the bird itself must be somewhat higher. It is remarkable
that the avei-age temperature at which birds keep their eggs,
about 39", is very nearly the average temperature of the
higher manunals, which according to Davy's lists is about
38'8°, while according tt) Max Fiirbringer it is a trifle under
391°.
Davy finds for l)irfls a temperature of 42' C. as the average
of twenty-five observations on sixteen ilifi'erent species. I
have myself as the average of sixty-one observations on eight
species found a temperature of 41 -2". Tnless for short periods
NSTINCT..
le power of
e the babe
! body lieat
Illy 34-7 ^ a
,(lult. The
I'e at which
^ heat. A
when well
t the same
life would
lent stages
to assume
e 2:)0wer of
nearly as
i chemical
mately the
le survival
'j it was ill
:eep them-
'^o reasons.
efficiency
he animal
lens while
•44", while
erature of
,-gs are to
efficiency,
emarkable
iheir eggs.
re of the
is about
itle under
le average
pecies. t
s on eight
)rt perioi Is
THE NERVOUS LASLS OF THE EMOTIONS. 25^
after being chased, I have ne^•er seen n bii 1 above 4:j^ This
warm condition, the highest to be found in animals, is no
doubt essential to the life of birds. The huge energy required
tor flight, even if all allowances be made for Istinctive
adaptations to wm.l currents, must demand a high combustion
rate. Ihe man who could sprea.l out his arms with win<.s
a.tached, and at a few strokes spring up into air, would
reciuire a liuge increase of energy. An average labouriiK^
nians ordinary exertion would be sufficient to lift him from
;if °;' '7^" i»^l^^^« every second. (Calculate,! from Waller, p.
-i-38.) I fand by frequent experiments on a hill behind my
house that I can asceml 1000 feet in twenty minutes, or at
the rate of about ten inches a secoml. An athlete can for a
short time raise himself thirty inches per second But a bir.l
will eap up into the air ten to fifteen f.et in a .second ; and
)naintam itself there for hours. This pro.ligious eiiergv nn.
doubt IS connecte.1 with its great consumption of food "and
the high temperature at which its .system is at work Hence
comes the general restlessness of the class as a whole • the
metabolism of their bo.lies is on a scale suitable for the irreat
demands of the flyi„o- period, but it goes on at all times and
the incessant hopping, fluttering, singing and feverish activitx-
of the bird IS the mere liberation of energy developed in excess
of requirements. All this looks to us like happiness, and
though ,t may l,e doubtful whether th,> canary is enjoyino-
itself more in its restlessness tlian the cat in its cosy nap by
the fare yet it seems to us that woods and fields are ren.lered
gay and spi,ghtly an.l full of joyous emotions by the super-
abundant vigour of the feathered tribes.
Wahm BLoon AND Emotions.
The theory of the emotions which has ! . -i su.ro'este.l in
this chapter will connect them closely with this coirdition of
warm blood and great activity. In mammal and bird the
high temperature of the lilood
' t
!!!
IS a.sKoeiatod with a great pro-
.luction of energy which is not employed as fast as it is
produced, but is partly stored up to be used when wanted..
I i
i^
ii
l>'
254 THE ORIGfN AND GROWTH OF THE MOIUL INSTINCT.
An emotional animcil is one in wliicl; thes.-^ stores are iiiost
readily and most efficiently released o>' ijihibited by t)ie
acrion of external stimuli : in -^'hich the si:/l't of eneniy,
or cry of young, or caress of mate w:ii release thiv stored i.'p
energy for fury or parental tenderness Oi- .'matory passion.
The nei ves under whose contro' .'.11 such action occurs are
dearly the pyiispathetir, nhose earliest i,n'owth took place
undoubtedly for the purpose of adjusting the bl;i. .i c" (-^nla-
tion: then, as a later devtdo]»ment, ior the regulatiop of the
temperature ; and, if this be true, w ought to Hn.' ' \at jur^t as
the drvelopmcTit of the ce-.'ebro-.-jnn;! systev- was conoomiiant
v.-ith the growth of the intellectual faculties, so would the de-
v'opment (tf the sympathetic system be concomitant with the
'ti'ov.-th of emotional capacity. These two correlated pairs
;,)iow a general tendency to develop together: but Buckle
fails in his attempt to found the moral progress of mankind
on their intellectual progress precisely for this reason, that
morality springs from emotional suv;t«ptibilities which find
their physiological basis in one set of nerves, while intelli-
gence is physiologically coiniected with another set. Now
there is in general a certain parallelism between the growth
of the.se two departments of our nervous .structure. As a rub;,
the more intelligent man will also be the more deeply capable
of emotion, but there is no necessary propoi'tion between
them. A singularly clever man may be a heart](\ss fellow,
while a man of small intellectual gifts may be so richly
endowed with emotional capacity that he wields as much in-
fluence by his personality as tlie other by Jiis brains.
In the cold-blooded animals those larye abdominal iran<dia
which form so important a part in the higher type are gener-
ally ab.sent. I have seen them very plainly in poi-cupine fi,sh
{Diodon maciilntus), in all frogs and many lizards, but in
general the words of Gaskell are true {Jnnrv. <>/ PJn/s., vii.,
p. 55), that in tish ajid reptiles the.se are either "al)sent or in-
conspicuous ". In the warm-bloodei' .mimals, which most
probably sprang from early amphibi -pes, these ganglia
become increasingly notable. It is ■ a iliat just as in the
ca.-'.' ^' the brain it is impo.s.sibiv . them foi'th in a scale
of dibiending magnitude, for th;- . -..uitT the animal the more
m
t ,iii
'..STINCT.
s are n!^)st
ed by t)i<!
of eneniy,
•; storcti t;p
passion,
occurs are
book place
I'd c: miia-
.iop of the
Hat just as
i)iicomio;int
iild the tle-
[it with the
lated pairs
lut Buckle
f mankind
uason, that
,vhich find
lile intolli-
set. Now
he growth
As a rule,
)ly capable
ti between
ess fellow,
so richly
< much in-
s.
lal ganglia
are gener-
cupine fish
(Is, but in
Ph>IK, vii.,
sent or in-
hich most
so ganglia
as in the
in a scale
the more
THE NERVOUS BASIS (,r THE EMOTIONS. 255
<lisproportionally large is the .size of brain and also of H,
^t eeic, njasses,the semi-lunar ganglion t^^. ''l
dissected out this ganglion as well as the brains from twenf v
lesult showed, as far as mere weight would indicate miite is
^ a^p-^ression for the sympathetic plexus ^CZ
Wb7 of Its total body weight in its brain, and -00006 in its
two semi-lunar ganglia ; a marsupial of fifteen pounTw 11 ^
the average have -0027 in brain and -00008 ^. ,sem"lun"
00006 in ganglia: a rabbit of two and a half pounds w i"
had 007 in brain and -00014 in ganglia. A very intellige
Enghsh terrier o sixteen and a .piarter pounds'^.^i.! ', I
0066 in brain ami -00016 in ganglia ; a fox of eight and n-^
quarter pounds had -Oil of body weight in briin 1 ^oo.>
ni ganglia A cat of six and a half pounds had -008 ofTt^
body weight in brain and -00015 in gan.dia Here t
apparent that adjustments for weight must play T „ 1
tant part in comparisons. The dog has a brain twice aXe
in proportion as the .lull sheep: but its brain is not relit vet
::i :raii 11 tt '''^;"" t- -''''■ ^-^^ ^^^^
related all the attempts made durino- the nrpsonf r *■
to determine the nature of the relation\lee'n Le J'S
and weight of body, and has sketched an interesting theo 1
of his own. (Arrkiv. fur Antkropolo.u, vol. xxv ) S
witfK.ut further work in this direction comparisons ^lo^'
In much the same way unknown adjustments have to b.
made for the weight of the ganglion, and i>v inf.Ltfor th
o the whole of the abdominal plexus, but if ^hat could p op iy
be done a gradually ascending scale would probably be s en
wherein the more emotional animals are, so L as my xZ'
-ee .oes, always more richly endowe.l in tin/i ^'
Afte six or seven years of fre,uent experience in dissecSw
out the sympathetic system in the lower animals, I v U
rome„,ber the surprise T felt in seeing for the firs ,ue ha
S;; ' -ted out in .he human ^.ly. Its si^ ^Z ^
plcxity of development were so much gn-ater than I had
f
til
*n
n.
•r
r 1 !i
1^1'
» ■ I
y li
ir
'25G THE ORKUX AND GKOWTH OF THK MORAL INSTINCT.
iuiticipatod. The semi-luiiiir i^anjflia in man wore weijfhed
for me by Professor Allen, of the Melliourne University
Medical School. Each amounted on the average to thirty-
two grains (2:^ grams), which, so far as my experience goes,
is much greater than in a OOO-pound bullock. But any
cogent comparison is rendered impossible until we have some
ni'^ans of eliminating the disproportionately altered relation
which is tlue always to lessened body mass. We can at present
compare only animals of the same weight in diti'erent orders,
and in that case it can be asserted that the more emotional
species have the larger semi-lunar ganglia.
But the semi-lunar ganglia have been weighed only as the
largest samples of the solar plexus, and the solar plexus is
only the largest of half a dozen plexuses, and all the plexuses
put together are only the most visible part of that great
sympathetic ramification which keeps pace with them in in-
creasing size and intricacy as we ascend in tha animal scale.
It is easy to understand then, that when animals had
secured the advantage of the warm-blooded condition, with
its additional activity and fuller life-history, the sympathetic
system, which presided over that growth, would become n.ore
and more delicately equipped for the work. By means of its
vaso-motors it would not only become — as ind(>ed we see it
has become — more and more efficient in maintaining an even
temperature, but it would ac(i(uire the fad It}^ of throwing, as
we know it does, fuller streams of blood, with their accom-
panying heat, into those parts of the body that recpiire them :
into the mannure of the suckling mother; into the penis of
the amorous male : into the muscles of the individual face to
face with an enemy ; into the salivary glands when hunger
smelt a daint}' morsel ; into the peptic glands of the stomach
when a full meal had been eaten, and when, in conseijuence
of the relaxed condition of all the surface muscles, the
emotional .state of the animal became that of restful content-
ment.
It is well known how completely the How of blood to
each part of the body and its consequent temperature are
under the control of the sympathetic. The often-repeated
experiments of Claude Bernard (Gomptes Rendus, 1852, p.
STINCT.
} weighed
Jniver.sity
to thirty-
en ce f^OCH,
But any
have some
(1 rehition
at present
snt orders,
emotional
nly as the
plexus is
e plexuses
:hat great
lem in in-
nal scale,
imals had
ition, with
aiipathetic
3ome Hiore
sans of its
we see it
ig an even
rowing, as
eir accom-
uire them :
le penis of
aal face to
en hunger
le stomach
)nse([uence
iscles, the
nl content-
blood to
irature are
u-repeated
s, 1852, p.
THE NEUVOfS UASIS OF THE EMOTIONS. 257
472) showed that section of one of the sympathetics in the
neck of a raljbit was followe.l by an immediate reddenino- of
the ear on that si.le, and a very .leci.led rise of temperat'nre
there. Budge {Compter Rendas, 1853, p. 378) showed tliat
when a portion of the cervical sympathetics is cut away the
arteries of the head swell, an.l the heat of the face rises 4° or
even 5° C. Waller (Compt.s Rnulm, 1853, p. 379) showed
the converse effects. A galvanic current sent through the
same nerves caused the ears to grow pale by reason of the
constriction of all the arteries of the head. In the conclusion
of this memorable paper of Waller's, it was shown that the
erection of the penis in amatory emotion, the tu.-gescence of
the mammae in maternal emotion, the activity of the mucous
membrane of the intestinal canal are all ert'ects of the
sympathetic system.
Meanwhile, in 1853, Brown -Sequard {Physiology of the
(hntral Ncrvom System, p. 142) showed that any stimula-
tion of the cervical sympathetics will cause " the blood-vessels
to contract, the (luantit^- of blood to diminish and he
temperature to decline". These changes cause the dia-
meters of the arteries to vary, so that at their widest they
are three times as wide as when most contracted: conse-
((uently nine times as much blood will How in the relaxed
as in the constricted condition. As for the human subject,
Bonders and Callenfels in 1855, Roux in 1856, showed that
in man the influence of the sympathetics is even greater than
in (logs or rabbits. Claude Bernard in 1862 provetl con-
clusively that vascular and caloritic phenomena occur in
general without cerebral intervention, and solely by a reflex
action peculiar to the sympathetic. Since that time it has
been shown that there is an area about a tenth of an inch
long, and of half that width in the mnhilla oldongata, or
bulb of the spine, wherein chiefly resides the power of'co-'
ordinating these local actions. This, too, is automatic, and
if in a certain sense it belongs to the sympathetic system, it is
nevertheless also a part of the cerebro-spinal system, whose sense
sti:?!v.!i are thereby enabled to affect instantly the circulation :
a rsight or sound can in a fraction of a second give a shock to
that centre in the medulla which controls the circulation
VOL. II. II
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25H THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THK MORAL INSTINCT.
DruEtJi' Action of the Sympathetic System on Emotions.
Stimulation of the synipatlietics in an animal (luiet under
the influence of chloroform will produce all the .si^n.s of
emotion. For instance, if "•" excite those pilo-motor nerves
which actuate the uuuierous tiny muscles attached each to its
own spine or bristle or feather, and which are now known to
be branches of the sympathetic, we may reproduce all the
external indications of fear or of antaj^onism. J. N. Langley
has shown (Phil. Trans., 1892, B.. p. 07) that these nerves
sprinj; from the thoracic <fan{,dia, and are true sympathetic
tibres. Extreme fear we know makes these all act so as to
erect the hair, the bristles, the spines, the feathers. The
creeping sense which fear produces in our own scalps is due
to the movement of now usele.ss arrecturcs pili muscles which
once no doubt raisi I the hair of our progenitors. Darwin
has shown hov almost all reptiles and birds, 1^ ', especially all
mammals, raise the spines, feathers, or hair in fear. {Expression
of Emotions, p. 100.) In a chloroformed animal, a galvanic
current sent into the pi'oper sympathetic ganglion will make
the bristles of a dog, the spines of a hedgehog, or the feathers
of a bird stand on end. The pilo-motors which proceed to
the head have their origin, as Langley has shown (Journ. of
Phys., 1894, p. 185), in the three higher cervical ganglia, and
tliose, but more esMocially the stellate ganglion, the lowest
of the three, are purticularly susceptible to stimuli. When
these are affected, the hair of the face and neck is erected.
In thp ."-.se of man, this local action of the sympathetics of
the head is now chieHy seen in the emotion of shame, the
blush of which very rarely extends beln/ the shoulders, the
stimulus apparently ;.' .cting ordy the three ganglia that are
nearest the bra'"'-
These ner^' op- 'ate automatically without the inter-
vention of any ent; ictivity. If one steals upon :i sleeping
echidna basking in a sunny space of the forest, and drops a
little stone upon him, absolutely on the ni,stant the (juills are
up and the feet have plunged into the grounu. If, as is very
likely, he has already partly excavate<l a hole, not only do
STINCT.
Emotions.
liet under
sif,'iiH of
;or nerves
?ach to its
known to
ce all the
I. Langley
3se nerves
inpathctic
t so as to
lers. The
,lp8 is due
cles which
. Darwin
)ecially all
'Jxpression
1 galvanic
will make
le feathers
pi'oceed to
'Journ. of
jif^lia, and
the lowest
li. When
is erected,
ithetics of
hame, the
alders, the
ia that are
the inter-
.1 sleeping
id drops a
Huills are
as is very
)t only do
THE NKHVors BASIS OF THK EMOTIONS.
25^
spines stick out foi- liis defence, but in the same fraction of a
•second others .stick into the ground ohli.|U.'ly upwards so as
to make the animal fast.
Mr. Douglas Spalding (.pioted Morgan's A,ihnnl fyifr
ovd liife/llrjnm', p. mo) says: "A young turkey which I
had adopted when chirping within the uncracke.l shell was
on the morning of the tenth day of its life mating a comfort-
able breakfast from my hand, when a young hawk in a cup-
board Jast beside us gave a .shrill 'chip, chip'. Like an
arrow the poor turkey shot to the other si.le of the room and
stood there motionless and dumb with fear, until the hawk
gave a second or; when it darted out at tlie open do<.r to the
extreme end of the pa,ssage, and there crouched silent in a
corner for ten minutes." It is, of course, useless to regard
this as a case in which the mental emotion of fear affected the
body. The turkey had never had any experience of hawks'
cries nor of danger. A certain stimulus affected its bodily
condition, and that l)odily condition was the anterior side of the
emotion of fear. So in regard to anger. When Mr. Spalding,
after fondling his dog, put his hand into a basket with four
blind kittens, they puffed and spat with anger in a manner
never seen when his luinds were untainted with the scent of
the hated dog. Here again the action of min.l is inadmissible.
Vasculah Conditions in Amatory Emotion.
As iinal illustrations of this physiological origin of the
emotions let us take the amatory and mati- nai feelings. The
amatory emotion is impo.s.sible before the peviod ,> puberty,
when by a readju.stment of blood-supply the lowtes grow and
the ovaries expand. Along with this primary change all
manner of secondary changes occur, each of them, however,
arising from alterations of vascular condition. That these
are .solely due to influences of the .sympathetic is to be con-
cluded from a variety of experiments. Dogs, whether male or
female, in which the generative organs liave been entirely de-
priveil of any direct connection with the cerebro-spinal .system,
are capable of the whole process of reproduction. (Foster,'
il
I.
•2(')() THK OHKilN AND (iKOWTH OF THK MOKAL INSTINCT.
bk. iv., ch. i.) Wlicii tlic syinpatliftic <;'aii<,'liii an' removed
from the neck of rooster or turkey-cock, all tlit; brilliant
ilisplay of crests or wattles is arrested. (Carpenter's Fhysio-
lojji/, [K S5G.)
A very (^i-eat derann;einent of tlie o'eneral vascular tone is
seen at the breeding;- season. The bell-bird (Chashuirynrlim)
has all the blood-vessels of its head so turoid that the wattles
rise into horns of flesh two inches hio'h ; the liornbills and most
of the pheasants show the same stronjf vaso-niotor effects. The
whole system is in a state of tension ready for explosion at a
toucli. The male perceives a female, or hears hei- voice: it is
like a match applied to the barrel of j^unpowder. All the
stored up enert^y is released, the animal is full of animation,
whether to ti^dit a rival or to win a mate. A further excita-
tion acts on the itcvvi <'i''ui<'idcs, or, as Gaskell prefers to call
these branches of the sympathetic, the pelvic splanchnics, in
exactly the same way as would a j^alvanic current when
applied to their peripheral ends. An innnediate change of
vascular tone occurs : the blood-vessels swell, and the whole
organ becomes rigid and its sensitiveness immensely increased.
The augmented flow of l)lood implies a rise of temperature
sometimes amounting, as I have shown, to three or four de-
grees centigrade.
Meanwhile the female is also by the season made inflam-
matory: the caresses of the male stinuilate the hypogastric
branches of the sympathetic. (Basch and Hofmann.) The
uterus becomes turgescent : it descends ami opens its mouth.
In all this series of phenomena, bodily states are reported
to consciousness as emotional states; the whole finding its
immediate origin in the state of explosive energy then ex-
istent among the nerve plexuses of the pelvic region, this
being perhaps only a local exaggeration of a general seasonal
activity of the whole sympathetic system.
This connection is, for general observation, most easily-
seen in those baboons and monkeys which have callosities
upon their hinder parts. As the season approaches, not only
do the sexual organs swell and redden, but the callosities
become of the most brilliant colours. (Brehm, tiaugetiere , i.,
169 ; Hartmaini, Anthropoid Apes, p. 191.) In a little paper
THE XKHVOUS HASIS OF THK KMOTIONS. -JCl
oF Darwin's {Nature, xv., p. IN), tlu'iv i.s a .losenption of tlic
inaiuKT in which all species that have these decorations turn
th(|m towards the other sex. When a Female thus uses this
•striking- attraction, it has an iimiiediate and rousinjr (.ft'ect
upon the males. The eat,'erness at that time and the indirter-
ence which ensues upon ;,n'atiHeation are emotional states
arisin^r „ut oF the alt.'rinn; conditions (.F vascular tone.
VA.scrr,.\K CoxDiTioxs ix Matekxal E.MoltoX.S.
Not less marked is the need oF vascular chan<^-es to pro-
<luce the more ohvious maternal emotions. Women describe
the strano-e and tender How (jF emotion which accompanies
the first sucking- of the new-born l)abe at the breast. F^or
months before, the vascular tone of the body lias been adapted
so as to send laro-e volumes of blood to the womb, whose blood-
ves.sels are relaxed (Lee, Phil. Trans., 1842), while all means
of nutrition to its walls are increased. The manunp; in a
lesser deoi-ee have shared in chan<,a's brou<,dit about probably
by reflex action of the .sympathetic. (Michael Fo.ster, iv., 2.)
After the birth of the babe, these relaxed ve.ssels of the womb
may wholly or in part contract. But the sight of the babe, or
better still, the touch of its lips at the mother's brea.st, acts
like an automatic counnutator. The vaso-motor stimulus
shuts off the supply of blood from the womb, and iliverts it
in.stead to the breasts, which thereupon commence in earnest
their secretion of milk. There is no period in the life of any
animal in which the whoh- .system experiences so f,a-eat a de-
gree of exaltation, at once so tender, so actively caressing, yet
so capable of furious resentment. The whole system seems
peculiarly sensitive to stimuli. Watch the eye of the newly
littered cat o)- dog ; what a <legree of emotionalism appears as
you pat it : concern if you touch its offspring, gratituile if you
caress them ; lierceness if you threaten them. The whole
frame of the mother responds to the slightest touch. Darwin
tolls of a female terrier he possessed which had "lately
had her puppies destroyed. Though at all times a very
att'ectionate creature, I was much struck," he says, "with
l!
■f i
=:tn
•2()2 THJ'; oiaaix and growth of thk moral ixstixct.
tlie niaiiner in wliicli slie then tried to satisfy her in-
stinctive maternal love by expen<lino; it on nio, and her
desire to lick my hands rose to an insatiable 2)assion." (Exp.
itf EinotiovM, \). 1'2{k)
It is preposterous to pretend, as some have done, that
the maternal concern is only the selfish desire of the
mother to rid her mannnte of the superabundant milk
pressure. The truth rather is that the preservation of the
youny has for countless j>-enerationH depended oti a complex
series of actions of the mother, in which not only the suck-
ling', liut also the warmth and defence and traininif of the
animal have been prominent features : conse(juently she has
ac(|uired, as an advanta<,a'ous endowment, tlie capacity of
]iavin<>' her nerves so stinnUated by sense excitations as to
stir her up to the appnjpriate action,
The species most susceptil)le to these bodily stinudi will
be the best able to avail itself of the enormous advanta^'e to
be found in parental care and self -sacrifice ; and it is out of
this parental sympathy that sympathy in j^eneral lias been
developed.
When the blood is felt to bound freely through all our
bod}- but especially through the arteries of our Ijrains, that
bodily state affects oui- C(Misciousness as an emotion of the
exalting- class. Then (juick thcnioht, hurried words, vi^'orous
gesture are the result of sti'on<>- bodily excitement. But I'i
our blood creeps in trickles at a hi^di pressure, yet with
ol)structed How, thi-ou<>li contracted arteries, and especially
through constricted arteries uf tlie brain, our thou<,dits are
more slu<,fgish : (nir words few and lan<>'uid, our limbs weary,
and the whole system dejected. The aiiiemic brain reports
itself in consciousness, and we are aware of a depressing
emotion. Though there is less blood in the brain, it forces
itself through the nnn'ow vessels at an exaggeratv'd pressure ;
headache and general discomfort may en.sue.
These emotions are the true motives of safety to the
animal. Just as it never reascjns out the m^cessity of food
to supj)ort its life, but eats by impul.se of the feeling of
liuilger ; so it never reasons out the danger it incurs at the
sight of one animal or the succulence of the meat which
THK NKUVors BASIS OF THE EMOTIONS.
263
another woulil atibrd. In the process of development the
animal has acciuired the [mwav of adopting- the appropriate
vascular state iu response to any particular stimulus of sijjjht
or sound. It acts as the state of its body impels it to act, and
it is conscious of its bodily condition as an emotion either
stirrinif it U) action, or calminjj;- it down to passive unob-
trusiveness.
Note.— In s|)it(' of repeated rewi'itiiifjr, tliis cliapter retains an
inhervnt (lii,'ressivoni'ss wliicli must. I fear, make it (Utficuit for
tlie reader to follow til'' gcni-ral ari,'ument. I siiall tlien^fore set it
down here snccinctly.
1. Warmth materially diminishes the time of hat(•llinJ,^
2. This i)ein;j: i'dvantaj^voiis, viviparous and ineubatiuf,' species
deve|o])ed a tendency to become warm-blooded.
3. ]?ut warmth beyond a certain degree is fatal. Hence the
mochanisiu of the vaso-motors, at first intemied to regulate
only t)!oiid (h.w, became adajited to regulate temiieratures.
4. But the warni-bloo.led type is the active type, and tlie more it
became tilled witii energy, the moie beneficial it was to
have a means of automatically concentrating that energy
and explosively exjjending it. Tiiis means was vaso-motor
dilatation and it gave rise to exalting emotions.
5. Fl'pially i>tlicaeious was the capacity of reducing and sup-
pressing energy in face of danger. Henc(> vaso-motor con-
striction.
fi. All emotions are thus on their bodily side changes in \ascular
tone.
■ i
'2()4
WA
t : iM
CHAPTER XXIII.
THK NATUIIE OF THH EJLOTIONS.
I-JODII.V CONIIITFOX AND EmoTIOXAI, CAPACITY.
I HAVE souji-lit to show that our .■motions aiv tin- cttects
coiisoiousiii'ss of alteivd rates aii.l con. lit
upon
ions of rt.)w in thtmn
eu.T..nts of life that ceaselessly eoui'se thr.nioh our ho.lies.
It seems a reasonable view, yet it is nowh.iv accepted : that
theory beino; still current which re.ar.ls an em.3tion as a
chanjre of condition always initiate.l in an inuuatorial entity
calle.l the inin.l, but sprea.lino. thence so as to att^ct the body.
Hus, if true, would be a immifest vioiat'on of the j^reat law
of the conservation of .ner^y. Yet it is a view iniplie.l
throu«-hout the vvliole of such a well-known book as Tuke's
Infiiicnv,' of MimJ on. Hodji. Even so -reat a thinker as
Herbert Spcnicer seems to subscribe to this scarcely .le.
feasible idea. Sometimes, it is ti-ue, liis words woul.l lea.l us
naturally to somethin^r wholly inconsistent. He tells us for
instance {Psi/rhnlo;/;,, i., ]<)'.]), that the mind is that which is
" composed of feelin^rs and the i-elations between feelin^rs,"
and then he proceeds to classify feelin^^s as beinjr eithcir
sensations or emotions; the lojrical se.|uence of which would
be that as sensations are bodily states pro.lucinff alte.-ations
of consciousness, so also must emotions ai-ise from bo.lily con-
ditions which enter into consciousness in analogous fashion.
Yet wlien he speaks of " the .listurbance of certain visc-ra
which powerful emotions produce" {Psi/rkoloify, I, 2M), he
seems from the context to reu^a,-,! un emotion as somethin^r
proceeding, downward from consciousness so as to aHect the
bo.]i]y system; a matter also clearly shown in such an ex-
pression as this : "the feelin^rs classed as emotions which are
THK XATUHK OF TIIK l-.MOTroN.S.
not locali.sal)le in the bodily rriiiiicwoik ". ( l),it,i ,,f Kfh'irs, p.
78.) IF tlxTo were tlic loast iloiilit jil)()iit it. an cxpi-.'ssioii of
this latter work (p. 104) would set it at rest. Ho tells us
that " by coinposition of the I'eelinn's and ideas of the iVelin<,^s,
emotion arises," (jr, in other woi'ds, i'm(jtions arise solely in
the domain of mind.
In precisely the same way Pi-of. P,ain, in his Mminl ,i/n<l
Moral Science, descends fi'om the emotions ,,[' the mind to
their supposed effect upon the l)ody, the rncrny which in-
tluences tlie or^rans bein^r unreasonably suppose<i to spi-injr
from an incorporeal something'. On ji. 22(i hr tells us that
"sensations and their iik-as may coalesce to foi'ni new fedino's
or emotions," a loose way of inia|;inin,i;- that i-motions are b\it
abstract chaiif^'os in an abstract entity.
On the contrary, it ou^ht to lie clear tliiU it is the body
which prochices emotional states in the mind. When a man
lias the toothache it is the deranj^vd condition of his nerves and
consequent derangement of his vascular tone wliich make
his mintl restless and irritable. When a hun.ury man, full of
impatience and ready for anj^vr, has eaten well, ihe emotional
changes to content and peaceful n'ood-lnniiour is oidy the
altered attitude which the mind has acipiircMl from an altered
vascular tone of the body. That blood which was formerly
maintaining a restlessly stinnilating How in the outer mu.scles
is now congregated in tlie viscei-a for purposes of digestion.
So doen it come that the man is emotionally changed.
Suppose that I climb to the top of a tall mast or st(!eple,
how shall I know whetlier I am ifraid (,r not when I look
down ? If my pulse continues calm, and my body unatiected,
I am certainly unac(|uainted with feai-: but when I feel my
heart beat faster and more feebly, when, in conse(piencc, a
dizziness and .sickness oppress me, and my skin grows pallid
and chill, tlien, and then only, must I confess to a feeling of
fear. See tins hunted rebel pulled out from his hiding-place;
he stands up Hnnly on his hsgs, looks his captors in the face,
and speaks with unfaltering voice. He knows his doom, but
his body is not demoralised, and in con.sei|Uenee lii.s mind is
full of foititude. He can say with Louis XVI. when the mob
surrounded him, "Am I afraid ( Vw\ my pulse." But look
,
■ -<
s
1 1
Iff'
i !
2GG THE OKIGIX ANJ) GKOWTH OF THE MOHAL INSTINCT.
at another victim ko draf-'ged i'orth, vainly set up on tremblinfj
le^s, his chest collapsed, his face pallid, his eyes starting.-- for-
ward, tears streaming down his cheeks, while his lips and
tongue are parched, his organs of excretion desperately
strained to act, his larynx constricted so tliat every breath is
a moan, it would be folly for such a man to say lie is not
afraid ; these bodily conditions are fear on its physical side,
and his mind must in consecjuence be atlected by the emotion
of fear.
Darwiii in one passage (Expr. of Emotlum, p. 250) tells
us that "till a man's bodily frame is affected" he cannot be
said to be angry or afraid: but elsewhere throughout uiis and
his other books an emotion is regarded as a mental state
which expre.sses itself by bodily changes. Lloyd Morgan
{Anliaal Li./)' and Intel llgem-r, p. 385) similarly grazes the
more reasonable view, and then glides oH" to deal with emo-
tions as phenomena of the mind alone, but rendered visible
by the action of mind upon body.
It is hopeless, I think, for this view to contend against
three classes of facts, which are in themselves incontestable,
and before I pi'oceed to analyse more minutely the nature of
the emotions, 1 shall discu.ss these three lines of argument :
first, that drawn IVom the emotional changes produced by
drugs: second, that arising from emotional changes produced
by pathological conditions of nerves: and third, thi- argu-
ment from emotions that originate with Ijodily changes due
to age. If a drug can make a man angry it must be by
affecting his body, and so by that means producing an emotion
in his min<l. It is impossible that the drug can directly
affect his mind which then acts upon his body. So also, if a
morbid knob on a symjiathetic trunk nerve can derange or
partly derange a man's circulation, and thereby render him
morose and sulky, or irritable and argumentative, it nuist be
plain that it is the bodily state which makes the emotion and
not the eniotion v.-hich produces the bodily state. So also, if
with advancing years as the body passes tlu'ough successive
stages, the individual exhibits in consequence marked se-
(piences of emotional changes, we are bound to trace these
emotions tc ,i bodily source. The girl at ten. as bodily
:nstinct.
II trembling
tartiii<;- for-
ds lips and
desperately
•y breath is
y he is not
lysical side,
;he emotion
). 250) tells
i cannot l)e
ut tiiis and
ental state
,^d Morgan
fifrazes tiie
with enio-
sred visible
nd Hji^-ainst
contestable,
i nature of
argument :
oduced by
s produced
tlie argu-
ianf,'es due
uist be by
in emotion
m directly
o also, if a
lerauge or
ender him
it iiuist be
notion and
80 also, ir
siiccessive
larked se-
ra ce these
as bodily
THJ-: XATUKK OF THE EMOTIONS.
2()7
chan^^es develop, passes to the o^jrl at fourteen with very
dirterent einf)tional capacities in regard to modesty, and the
attractiveness of the other sex. Griesinger declares {Mental
Patholuiiii, p. 200) that at the pei'iod when pub(>rty arrives
the girl is often unusually sensitive, and nervous, or even
peevish, and tiiat in easily deranged temperaments this j^eriod
often passes into a capricious melaiicholy, or sentimental
emotiouidism.
A little later in her life the girl has a whole world of
emotional experiences awaiting her. Her mind is no doubt
changed, but that is due to many boifily changes. She suifers
much distress and pain if siie iinds herself unattractive ; but
enjoj-s lo'.'idy the emotions of gaiety, and triumph in the per-
ception of masculine admiration; she finds her mind the
sporting ground of many conflicting feelings of coipietry, and
envy, ami Jealousy: for, in spite of her own worthier intelli-
gence, shr p.nreives that slie is rendereil liable to these
emotions l.y men's homage according as it is bestowed on
her or on others, though she knows that but a year or tAvo
ago, no sueli motives could iiave exalted or embittered her
mind. Then in tlu; nudst of this emotional ripeiung comes
the dominance of love's overpowei'ing passion : she is prepared
to cast aside all that had until then been held dear: to leave
her parents, and abandon her chosen pui'suits, her home and
her kindred. Then is her heart tuned on the one liand to the
sweetest emoti(jns of whicli our nature is capable, Ijut on the
other, at a touch, it may swing roun<] to dark passion.s,
jealousy, iinger, and hate, linked with dire unhufipiness.
All these days of the more restless emotion»« happily
passed, she is duly wed, a>id for a while an exaltation i)os-
sesses her: this earth, dull and heavy enough to crowds of its
dwellers, is to her as liglit and rilmy as the enchanted palace
of an opiate vision. But with the bodily changes, that herald
the coming of her babe, she passes through new emotional
stages. Bodily derangements produc" each its own charac-
teristic changes. Dr. 'I'horburTi mentions as the results of vaso-
motor rc'idjustments at tliat period, the troubles of dyspepsia,
.salivation, itisonniia, neuralgia, and .so on, these being all
more or less accompanied by resulting emotional conditions.
I,;
!. ,
L!=Ai
IJt''.
•A
2()8 THE ORKJIN AND (iHOWTH OF THK MOKAL INSTINCT.
{Diseases of Wome,K) Accoj-.Hno- to tlioso popular l,ook,s
called Ladies' Manuals, this is a time wlum theiv is u-ravo
tendency to melancholy, to iiTitai)ility and hysteria, whilst
the nidivulual is herself painfully conscious that there is no
reason in the relationships of her life why these emotions,
alon^- with lan^mor, anxiety, and va^ue lonui„os, should
possess her mind. Griesinj-'er asserts fp. 202) that if a woman,
who already is inclined to a state of emotional insanity, be-
comes pregnant while in that state, she most commonly is
thereby rendered incurable.
But to follow the case of the healthy woman, her baliy is
born; and with the altering tide of blond How in her body
she becomes keenly susceptible to new stiiouli, the touch of
the little hands upon her breast, the sound of its cry, the look
of its face as it slumln rs in hei' ai-ms, all tind her system
explosive, ready to burst out in kisses, no.ls, smiles, rocking,
cuddling, tossing, sports of every sort, witii singing and sen.^e-
less talk : yet she is rea.ly at a depreciatory remark to lire
up, or at a threat of danger to face the snarl of a tiger. Tlie
primaryjoysofmotherhooil, which in the period (jf suckling
she shares with the lower animals, pass later on into the
secondary and more purely sympathetic joys of her later
maternal cares. But before and after the i)irth of each child
she experiences the same cycle of emotional changes.
Now lier emotions, if not due to the body, would be pre-
sumably the same throughout : the transition of her emotions
is therefore due to bodily alteiations. So long as she still is
capable of motherhood she keeps her sense of triumph in the
power of her personal charms: but when advancing years
have brought with them new arrangements of the systein, these
more active emotions die out, and others more placid' take
their place, in keeping with her older and less energetic
frame. All along she nuiy discover that in every stage of
her life the bodily state has made tlie necessary prepamtion
for emotion, but that in general som<' extei-nai stinudus has
been its ultimate and easily visible cause.
NSTIXCT.
)nlar books
!•<' is jfrave
■m, whilst
there is no
^ emotions,
i^s, should
if a woman,
isaiiity, be-
mimonly is
'ler baljy is
1 her body
e touch of
y, tlie look
ler system
!S, roel'ini>-,
and sen,*e-
irk to fire
i«vr. Tlie
f suckling
1 into the
her later
each child
I.
lid be pre-
[■ emotions
she still is
ipli in the
iny years
tern, these
acid take
enerf>-etic
■ staji^-e of
•eparation
nulus has
THE iNATrRK OF THE EMOTIONS.
Emotioxal Effect of Duuos.
269
All druffs wliieh iuHuence the vaso-motor nerves and thereby
alter the l)lood flow of the body produce emotional chancres;
conversely, tliou<;li this is not quite so certain in a few cases,
no druff produces er.iotioiiul cliannvs which does not afleet the
vascular tone. Alcohol, tobacco, tea, coffee, Indian liemp,
belladonna, cocain, dioitalis and probably also opium, all affect
the emotions by their action on the bln.xl circulation.
Takino- alcohol first, as a druif whose action is the most
widely known, we observe that its earliest ertect, as is now
well understood, is to partially paralyse the vaso-constrictor
nerve centres so as to permit the lilood-vessels to expand,
especially those on the surface of the l)ody and in the brain.
(Carpenter's Ph ijHinldim, ninth edition, p. 108.) Lauder
Brunton <>ives tiie followinir graphic study of the physicj-
lo^rical effects of alcohol (Disorders of Digestion, p. 153) : "If
we look at our (jwn hands or those of our neighbours before
going in to a public dinner, especially if the ante-room is cold,
we may find them somewhat pinched-hjoking ; the colour
.somewhat dusky and distributed in patches instead of being
uniform: the veins ai-e thin and the circulation languid.
After a few glasses of wine, bowever, their appearance begins
to change. The hands assume a uniform rosy tint, showing
that the capillaries are now dilated and filled with brigiit
red arterial blood. The\' lose their shruid<e]i aspect: little
wrinkles in the skin disappear: rings previously loose be-
come almost too tight. This dilatation of the vessels so
readily stn-n in the hands is not confined to them, but occurs
generally throughout the lK)dy. The M-arm blood pouring
from the interior of the chest and abdomen over the surface
of the body impai'ts in it a ])leasing glow ; the face shares
the general Hush, and t'.ie pulsation of the temporal arteries
not infrequently becomes easily visible."
This altered condition of vascular tone gives rise to changes
of emotional state. Tlie first of the.se, as Lamler Brunton says,
is a '• most agreeal)le feeling of comfort pervading the whole
frame". The flow of blood in all sensitive pjirts is full and
unrestricted : there is an emotional glow, a sense of joyousnesH
270 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MOKAL INSTINCT.
rifi;;
■■mi
;.;[
and liyhtness of spirit. But let tlie iliiincr procccfl, let the
wine reach a fourtli oi- fifth jjjlass, then the face orowH red,
tlie blood-vessels are over-distended, the whole system be-
comes morbidly enerf^etic. The voice is loud, tlu! temper
becomes quick and ar<,aniientative, perhaps even ([uarrelsomc!.
It is difficult for a man in tliat state to be cautious, f(jr caution
implies tliat the vascular tone is shut down. A half-tijisy man
will climb to dan^^erous places, will disclose secrets or make
rash assertions, or otherwise l)etray an emotional condition in
which the usual influence of fear is absent.
There is a point, however, at which the maximum .lilata-
tion of the vessels takes place. Dr. Parkes (Proc. Royal Soc,
1874, p. 182) has shown by careful observations of British
.sokliers durino- a campaign, that this point is usually reached
about three hours after the use of the alcohol. There is no
general rise of temperature though the surface heat is in-
creased. The heart's action is (piickened by five to ten beats
a minute. Then the constriction of the blood-vessels l)e^nns
to take place, as a matter of reaction. The face grows pallid,
the blood ^mtliers in the viscera, perspiration breaks forth.
There is now a complete revulsion of enu>tional tone; the
<Irinker weeps, and shakes his neinhboin- njournfully by tlic
hand : from his f^rief-laden breast come pr(jtestations of end-
less friendship; or he feels sure he is soon to die, and he
delivers his last messai^es to be conveyed to absent comrades.
Ziems,sen says (('//el. of Mcdlc'mc, xvii , p. 38.5; that "the
nerve centres to which alcoliol has access have their functions
stimulated at first, but then their activity is i^radually more
or less perfectly abolished for the time. There is reddeninj^
of skin and sinking,' of blood pressure: the face and eyes
ffrow flushed, the pupils art> contracted, the pulse beats more
forcibly an<l the skin is often bathed in sweat." All the
passions then press to tW front; love, hatred, revenji;e. lend
their chanjrinir colour. TyrV. of Xh'dlrmc, xvii.. p. W.YA.)
As De Quincey tells us: " Wine gives a preternatui-ai bright-
ness, and a vivid exaltation to the contempts, the admirations,
the loves and I'.iitreds of tb.c drinker". (i'onffi^fihniH nf an
Opiiun-eater.) In short, all the exalting emotions accoiii-
pany tlie relaxed conditions of the blood-vessel in the first
STINCT.
THE NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS.
•271
I'd, let the
^•rowH red,
ystem be-
lu! tcinpei-
jiri'dsoine.
or Ciuition
•tipHy man
H or make
iridition in
iini dilata-
'oyal Soc,
oi' British
\y reached
lere is no
eat is in-
I ten beats
els beffins
)\v,s pallid,
iks forth,
tone ; the
ly by the
IS oi' eiid-
e, and he
comrades,
that " tlie
functions
ally more
feddeninjf
anil eyes
eats more
All the
'iif^e. lend
. p. iv.m.)
a! brifjht-
nirations,
'Hs nf an
is accoiii-
tlie first
hour or two, ai; ; //hen the reaction has set in, all the depress-
m^ emotions accompany the constricted vascular tone. Tlie
arj,mment from alcohol is, therefore, as complete as physiology
can make it.
The argument from one dru^^ is a sample of that from all,
yet I shall brieily describe the effects of one or two others.
Tobacco acts on the sympathetics in a mild way just as alcohol
<loes; the pupils of the eyes are relaxed, the blood-vessels
dilate sHi,ditly, and in consequence a ^^enerally soothin^r ex-
perience ensues. Not a joyous or comltative feelinj^^ for
apparently the nerve effects are not nearly strouo' enou^di for
these emotions, but there seems to be a slii^-htly easier flow
of blood; the channels are broader and the life stream has
fewer frets in its co\n-se. When ^'I'ief and worry have un-
duly constricted the blood-vessels this may easily enou^'h be
a beneficial effect. But excessive smokiiif-- makes the heart's
action irregular (Waller, Fhysiolofjy, p. 82), and a man will,
as it seems from American experiments, do a less sum total of
work when he smokes than when he abstains from it.
Very similar is the effect of tea. When taken cold it acts
directly on the vaso-motor system, relaxint;- tht- blocjd-vessels ;
taken wai-m there is the added effect of the scjothini'' Ldow
stdl further relaxint^ these vessels while ((uickfiiino- the heart.
These bodily changes have a magical effect ui)Oii the emotions,
turning depression into cheerfulness and languor into zest.
So, too, with coffee: let a man wake in the morning in-
clined to be taciturn and depressed. Give him a hot cup of
coffee, and watch the speedy change in his emotional tone.
But it is of course to be remembered that all artificial stinni-
lants carry their own nemesis in the way of reaction, and with
excess there comes an ultimate partial demoralisation of the
nerves aftected.
Emotional changes occur in conse(|uence of the vascular
effects produced by Tnrlian hemp, bellad(inna, cocain, and other
drugs, anil Van der Kolk declares Mcatal Dif<i;i.s<'.s, p. 1.57)
that whi'n insane patients are labouring under intense emo-
tional excitement, a dose of digitalis, by slow iiig the heart's
beat, and so reducing the blood flow, invariably makes them
nuxch more calm and contented. But I shall take oidy one
i
V: I
y.'kf^
272 THK OKKilX AND (iliOWTH OF TH S MORAL INSTINCT.
M
more case as a further sample of this class of ar^'ument.
Opium acts on the vaso-motors apparently by the effect it has
on the vaso-motor centre in the spinal bull). (.Michael Foster,
bk. ii., chap, v.) It stimulates the blood How for a time, Imt
soon passes on into the reaction of con,striction and lessened
fulness of th." life stream. In medium doses it quickens at
first the puis.' : a profuse sweat bursts forth, and the brain
becomes abnormally active. If the .lose be small, this period
of stimulation ma^- last some little time, but it always moves
on to the reaction : and the stronfjer the dos- the sooner the
reaction. I have heard from nearly twenty smokers in the
(jpium-dens of Melbourne descriptions of their experiences.
These all point to vaso-.lilatation in the pleasant period, and
vaso-constriction in the .lepression of the reaction, wherein a
pallid skin an.l a col.l clammy sweat indicate a certain par-
alysis of the superficial vaso-motoi-s. Alonf,^ with this stage
there always comes a deep melancholy until the next smoke.
I)e Quincey sai.l that with him the " primary effects of opium
uore always to excite the system; this stage always lasted, dur-
inir my novitiate, upwards of eight hours. All the changes of my
<h earns were accompanied by .leejj-seate.l anxiety aji.l gloomy
iaelancholy. 1 st-emed every night to descend into chasms
and sunless abysses, depths l)elow depths, from which it
.seemed hopeless that I would ever reascend. The sense of
space and in the end the sense of time were both powerfully
affected. Buil.lings an.l landscapes were exhibited in propor-
tions so vast as the bodily eye is not fitted to receive." {Con-
fessions of mt O/nuia-eater.)
The vaso-mot.)i- etiects of opium are thus accompanied by
proportional derangements of the emotions: and as the judg-
ment is deposed from its habitual control by the soporific
action of the .Irug, the mind becomes a riot of inconscjuential
feelings of awe and wonder, fear, suspense, and hope. The
memory yiel.ls up its most sacre.l recollections of beauty, of
gloom, of sunny vistas, of abysmal horrors; all charms of
sound and sight, of odour and .lelicious touch are enticed from
the mazes of rememln-ance and woven into the web of their
appropriate emotions. De Quincey has a splendid description
of the sort of vision that results.
4
INSTINCT.
t' iirf^uiiieiit.
etit'ct it has
iliaol Foster,
a time, but
lid lesMeiieil
(luickens at
fl the brain
this period
W'ays moves
sooner tlie
kers in the
jxpei'iences.
period, and
, wherein a
iertain par-
this stage
ext smoke.
ts of opium
histed, dur-
,nges of my
,11(1 f^loomy
ito chasms
which it
le sense of
p(3werfully
in propor-
^e." (C'oH-
panied by
the judy--
e soporific
sefjuential
ope. The
beauty, of
charms of
ticed from
b of their
escription
THK NATl'IiK OF THE EMOTIONS.
278
"The dream commenced with a music of preparation and
awakening suspense, a music which gave the feeling of a
vast march, of infinite cavalcades tiling ott", and the tread of
innumerable armies. The morning was come of a mighty
• lay : a day of crisis and of final hope for human nature, then
suH'ering soim- mysterious eclipse, and labouring in some dread
extremity-. Somewhere, I knew not where, — somehow, I knew
iKjt how,— by some beings, I kne^' t whom,— a battle, a
strife, an agony was conducting, \ \ olving like a great
drama or piece of music. Then, like a chorus, the pa.ssion
deepened. Some greater interiist was at stake, some mightier
cause than ever yet the sword had pleaded, or trumpet had
proclaimed. TIkmi came sudden alarms, hurrying to and fro,
trepidations of innumerable fugitives, I knew not whether
from the good cause or the bad ; darkness and lights, tempest
and human faces, and at last, with a sense that all was lost,
female forms, and the features that were worth all the world
to me, and, but for a moment allowed, clasped hands, heart-
breaking partings, an<l everlasting farewells. And with a
sigh the sound was reverberated, everlastin<r farewells—
and again, and yet again reverberated, everlasting fare-
wells."
All this gorgeous phantasmagoria of emotions due to a
few scruples of the juice of the poppy ! It is impo.ssible that
these material drops could permeate the immaterial mind.
They played strange tricks with the vascular tone of the
body, and every change thus wrought was registered in
consciousness as an emotion. Not, of course, that this ex-
planation is more than probable, but it seems very likely
that when, by the vaso-inotor action of a drug, a free course
is given to the blood circulation in the brain, the judgment
being wholly or in part inoperative, the memory of sensations
will thus be released in all sorts of fantastic combinations, to
run riot after the whimsical fashiim of dreams. But when
the eight liours' effect of the ilrug is gone, and the vaso-
motors are too dt.'moralised to fulfil their function, there comes
alon- with niiusea, and lieadache, and a trembling of hands
and limbs, the most awful depression of miiul. The pall of a
night gloomier and intinitely more dismal than physical dark-
VOL. II. 18
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274 THE ORItilN AND GKOWTH OF XHK MORAL INSTINCT.
,
il
; >
^
nt'SH st'oiuH to overspread the universe. I have seen, caj;e(l in
an Australian f^aol, a Chinese opium-eater who had attempted
.suicide and was heinjr confined till the effects of his excesses
should have passetl away. Xevei- shall I iorj^et the pictm-e
we looked down upon, of an utterly collapsinir <lespair.
Gaunt, spectral despondency spoke from every dull jrlance of
the eye and every listless movement (>f his slack-hunj;- limbs.
It takes from six to twelve months for a man thus bodily, and
therefore mentally, <lemoralised, to bey-in to find an active
interest a<4ain in life.
I have all alonj^- been contending; that the moral nature is
built on the foundation of the emotions, and we must then
exp (ct to find that a drujf which ogives a morbid character to
the emotions will umlermine the moral tone. This is indis-
putably the case both with alcohol and opium. 1 have knt)wn
a lad most honourable, and a hut^'e favourite amonji- all his
friends for his manly love of truth, who went into a medical
school to pursue his studies anion;;' the usual temptations, and
{jave way to the fascinations of tlrink. Seven years wore
enou^-li to dull the finer moral sens(' ; five years more left him
a poor creatui'e, whose solenni c'tb no man would trust. And
such cases are oidy too, too common 1 Not so frc(|U('nt, yet
(juite as ai)pallin^-, is the moral wrecka<;-e wrought by
opium. Coleridge, at the a^'e of forty-four, a white-haired,
half-pai'fdysed ruin, wrote to the doctor under whose care he
wished to place himself: "You will never hear anything' hut
the truth iVom me : prior hal)its n^nder it out of my power to
tell a lie: but unless I am carefully observed I dare not pro-
mise that I should not, with rey-ard to this detested poison, be
capable of actin^r one". But, alas for the self-delusions of
men, his own estimate of his character as it then stood was
much too liinjh : for it is well known that then and afterwards
his frien<ls had ^rown utterly unable to trust him in anything-
of conseiiuence. To bosom intimates like Southey and Words-
worth he was practically dead, having' become a moral leper.
The druy- had ruined the vascular tone of his body and with
it his whole emotional nature.
INSTINCT.
ioeii, cH<;'t'<l ill
iul attuinpti'il
I" lii.s excessL's
t tile picture
'.m<<; despair,
lull {fiance of
-huiij;- limbs.
IS bodily, and
ml an active
iral nature is
'e must tbeii
[ character to
This is indis-
liave known
inoiij^' all his
iito a medical
ptations, and
1 years were
nore left him
1 trust. And
're<|Uent, yet
wrouybt by
white-haired,
id lose care he
inythin'i' but
my power to
[are not pro-
ed poison, be
-delusions of
iu stood was
d afterwards
I ill anything;'
/ and Words-
moral leper.
)dy and with
THE N.\TrHK OF THE EMOTIONS.
EMOTi<)X.\r. Effects of I'athoi.ogical St.\te.-
276
Not k
)f tht
)f th
iUffj^festive or the vascular ori^nn ot tlie emotions
is the evidence supplied by morbid conditions (*f the body.
Diseases which promote the surface How of blood ti'iid to
produce the exaltinj; emotions, while those that impede
its flow <rive rise to depression. So also derani^cments
of the liver always cause melancholy, and we use the
word "bilious," V)oth in a bodily and in an emotional sense;
lunin- complaints almost invariably make the patient sani^^uiiie.
I had once a neii^dibtnu', prosperous, wealthy, with a lovely
home and an aH'ectionate family. But his liver was dis-
ordered, and he crept about in the nujst charminii' weather a
picture of misery, till one day he was found dead in his
stable, whithei he had retired to sever an artery. At the
same time I liad a younj; friend whose thin face ami hectic
cheek announced too truly the phthisis which was speeding;' to
its consummation. But tlie brioht eye was always ready to
sparkle at a joke: everything;' in life was full of zest, much
too full for his declining;- stren^fth : and when his jud<,fnient
told him, after repeateil visits to the most competent special-
ists, that his life was rapidly nearin;;' its termination, still
the emotional side of his nature wouhl not let him despond,
and he was for ever catchini; himself up in the midst of brii^ht
plans for the future.
These aw, only tyjies of the well-known contrast between
the bilious and sanguine temperaments, which are known to
depend on the character of the blood Mow in th. j body. States
of indi«festion in which dizziness, faintne.ss, and paljiitation
.show how much the circulation is deran<>-ed, are <,fenerally
accompanied by depression of spirits; and, as ( irii'sinyer tells
us (Mental JJisi'dscs, p. .57), "in those affiicted with heart
disease, anxiety appears, while in cases of disease of the
intestines, moods of .sullen irritaliility occur ". On the other
hand, we are told by Van der Kolk (p. .58) that hypertrophy
of the heart with eidarffement of the carotid artery prtMlisposes
to excitemen.t and ani^er. Thus, as he relates, !)r. Piirry was
able to moilerate the furious outbursts of a patient by merely
placinjf .some pressure on the carotids.
ill
'« ii .' ,i
27(5 THK OKKHN AND GROWTH OP THE .MORAL INSTINCT.
I! i
:
|1 i;;
5 •
!
1
; V
1
1
, V
. -■
1
' ■ 1.,
: i ; S!
Asthmatics, as tliis author tells us, are very (generally in-
cHikmI to ])e timid and taciturn ; scorlmtic patients are
peevish : those sutierin^- from persistent constipation carry
with them a va<,mely anxious state of mind which they can-
not reason away, howevei- (groundless they know it to he. In
the celebrated case of Larrey's soldier in whom a nmsket-hall
wound had laid bare the lower end of the stomach, it was easy
with a probe to touch the ganj^lia ; soon after there were
observed strange deran<;ements of the circulation with con-
sequent alterations (jf temper and humour. Van der Kolk
jjives from his own experience an account of cases in which
the pi'ofoundest melancholy gave every threat of passini^' into
insanit}', }^et disappeared wlien stronj( pur<ratives luid cleared
the intestines of hard fajcal masses which had l)een an irrita-
tion to the vascular tone.
Accordiiiff to Dr. Ross (Diseases of the Nervous System),
headaches, with all their depressing emotions, are often due
to morbid conditions of the sympathetic nerves. Dr. Campbell
[AiKitniujj of Xerroiisiiess, p. 24) declares that "a dittused
feeling of mental and bodily misery constantly attends
derangements and perturbations in the great sympathetic
centres, especially in the solar plexus. These 'tacks
generally come on with an aura, or with a sudden ition
of a blow or weak shock at the pit of the stomach : that they
depend on molecular changes in the ganglionic centres is
proved by Remak's experiments on the lower animals." The
same author describes how in cases of morbid lilushing, with
their strange accompan3nng emotional states, there is always
to be suspected some sort of lesion of tlie .sympathetic nerves.
Dr. Long Fox {Diseases of the Sympathetic) shows how in
women suffering fi-om uterine complaints, thin-e ai-e apt to
appear m()rbi<l conditions of the solar plexus and the cervical
ganglia, whence arise faintness, blushing, sighing, and very
often melanchol}' or a <leep sense of anxiety.
Gricsinger (Mental Diseases, p. 107) descril)es how, in our
sleep, the emotional character of our dreams often depends on
morbid conditions of activity of the abdominal nerve centres.
Thus in multitudes of well-known ways, the emotions
peculiar to diseases of various sorts can be shown to have an
">^
, INSTINCT.
^fenerally in-
patients are
ipation carry
licli they can-
• it to be. In
a niusket-ball
:li, it was easy
.'r there were
ion with con-
hui der Kollc
aseH in wliich
F passing into
3s had cleared
)een an irrita-
tou8 System),
ire often due
Dr. Campbell
,t "a (litiased
-ntly attends
synijiathetic
hese '<-.acks
lien ition
ih: that they
lie centres is
linials." The
ilushin^;, with
ere is always
thetic nerves,
hows how in
•e are apt to
d the cervical
n^, and very
"s how, in onv
;n depends on
nerve cejitresi.
the emotions
I'll to have an
THE NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS.
•277
intimate dependence on the vascular tone us di'terniiiird by
the action of tlie vaso-niotor system, inchnlinj;' no doubt its
centre in the spinal bulb.
Takiuff a specific disease as typical of others, I shall
brieHy describe the course of (Irave's disease. It tirst
declares itself in the stranj^e emotional displays of tiie other-
wise normal patient. A causeless feeling' of nervousness,
followed bv bvsteria, bi'ii'ins to sutiyest that soniethin"' is
wron<;': the patient is easily excited or depnsssed, and becomes
<;'enerally irritable. The disease occurs most fre([Uently
amoni;- women, and often continues lonj;' in this sta;;-e, till a
sud<len fri',dit or fit of violent an^er oives to the vascular
tone a sharper derani^'ement than usual, and then it enters on its
more acute staj^e. The temperature of the head i-ises : the
.sweat ylands of the face become morbidly active, the eyes
begin to grow protuberant, .so that eventually the lids fail to
close over them. These latter symptoms resemliie those that
follow division of the sympathetic cords in the neck. The
emotional states, therefore, may be supposed t(j have some
foundation in morbid conditions of these cords. This con-
clusion is not unchallenged : for as the <liseas(! is rarely fatal,
poHt-mortcm examinations are infretiuent, but Ziemssen, in
his Cyclofaidia of the Practice of Medicine (xiv., p. 87), de-
clares that a majority of fii-st-rate observers, of whom he
names eleven, have found, where examination was po.ssible,
that the disease coexisted with degeneration or obliteration of
the inferior cervical ganglion, and sometimes of those parts of
the sympathetic most closely adjacnt thereto.
Derangements of the sexual organs would, if studied in
detail, provide many specific cases of the samf sort. Their
functions are ,so intimately dependent on adjustments of
vascular tone that when in morbid con<lition they very
generally attect the emotional states of the mind. Van der
Kolk, sunmiing up an immense experience of tlie mentally
diseased, tells us (p. 189) that " in cases of religious melan-
choly, we should rarely err if we assumed the sexual ap-
paratus to be impaired ".
m
* ''if
III
! I
1 ■■■■ '
y 1
^iil!
4*t
Ml
i'
27h the origin and growth op the moral instinct.
Arguments from Insanity.
A l)rief con.si deration of the morbid conditions of tlie in-
sane will emphasise the point now under discussion: for
insanity is a deranj^enient of the mind nuich less on its
intellectual than on its emotional side. Maudsley tells us
(Resjurnsibilitij in Mental Disease, p. 299) that "men sel.lom,
if ever, ^'o mad fi-om jrreat intellectual activity, if it be un-
accompanied by emotional ao-itation". Griesinoer expresses the
same view when he says (p. l(i,5) : "It is an absolute fact that
intellectual exertion, unaccompanied by emotional excitement,
leads only in the rarest cases to insanity". And iv^iim (p.'
15()) he remarks : " Hereditary ii\sanity shows itself often in
marked emotional deranoements, the intelliovnce remainino'
relatively intact". It was Guislain, so nuich renowned for
his researches into the nature of cerebral diseases, who first
proved that " the inunense majority of mental diseases com-
monly conunence with a state of profound emotional per-
version, y-enerally sorrowful ".
When the anterior lobes of the brain are injured, or
diseased, or incomplete, we have intellectual weakness, which
however is in <--eneral a very ditt'erent thino- from insanity.
Large masses of maTikind are intellectually wealc who are
never regarded as in any way insane. They may flock to
fortune-tellers: they may hold absurd views on religion, oi:
medicine, on omens ; they may quake for fear of ghosts and
be satisfied of the existence of a horned and hoofed and fork-
tailed personal devil, but they are not insane. The evening
talk of a few agricultural labourers over their mugs of beer
may be intellectually the merest drivel, but they are not in-
sane. When disease or incompleteness of brain is extreme,
the individual is an imbecile : he may become so helpless as to
require the care which can be given only in confinement, but
never does it follow that he is insane, in tlie now accepted
meaning of that term.
True insanity always begins with a morbid condition of
the emotions. We confine people as lunatics, not because
their i-easoning is unsound, but because the play of motive in
minds is too abnormal for us to rely on it. Thousands
\
tl
INSTINCT.
:)ns of the in-
iscusfsioii : for
li less oil its
ilsluy tells us
" men seldom,
', if it l)e uii-
■ expresses the
)lute fact that
il excitement,
md ai;'ain (p.
tself often in
ce remaining'
•eiiowned for
ses, wlio first
liseases coni-
liotional per-
' injured, or
kness, which
om insanity.
3a!c who are
nay flock to
religion, or.
t ghosts and
ed and fork-
The evening
Qugs of beer
' are not in-
is extreme,
lelpless as to
inement, but
ow accepted
condition of
not because
)f motive in
Thousands
!
THE NATURE OK THE EMOTIONS.
279
of peiiplf believe absurdly enough tliat they liave been
wrongly treated. That does not make us interfere with
them. But wlien extravagant vijidictiveness appears, when
the indivi(Uial goes about with a pistol to shoot imaginary
persecutors, l\e is classed among ti:*; insane, though his in-
tellect lUay still be capable of profound or brilliant wovK.
All insanity falls in its lieginning under one or other of
two headings — mania, and melancholia : the first consists of
a morbidly exalting state, the other of a morbidly (U'pressing
state of the emotions. A few (piotations from (b-iesingtu-'s
standard book will give the views universally held ])y experts
in mental disease. " Organic irritations do not usually excite
at the commencement new ideas, but those vague indeter-
minate modifications of the consciousness which are called
emotions" (p. '.V-i). Insanity begins, as he tells us, "when one
is elated or depressed without external cause" (p. (il). " Ulj-
servation shows that anger, rage, rancour, on the one hand ;
or, on the other, joy, gaiety, frolic are the marked elenumtary
phenomena of insanity" (p. ()2), "The first stage of insanity
consists of aimless ill -humour, oppression and anxiety, or else
of morbid fondnesses which are subject to capricious change. "
These statements could be corroborated to an almost un-
limited extent from the works of later and probably better
writers, but I take them by preference from Griesinger as he
was the first to give wide currency to the work done Ijy tlie
earlier specialists, which has been amply maintained by all
recent investigations. We have now to ask what proiluces
the morbid emotions of organic insanity as distinguished from
accidental insanity arising from injury to the lirain substance.
No very decided answer can be given, but there seems to
be every probability that the emotiotial perversions which
usher in attacks of insanity are due to morbid conditions of
vascular tone. Van der Kolk asserts {Mental Diseases, p.
50) that they very fre(iuently depend on alterations of blood
pressure in the brain, arising from morbid action of the
.sympathetic. Melancholia, he feels sure, proceeds largely
from the action of the sympathetic system, and in particular
of its abdominal ganglia.
In mania there invariably occurs a great contraction of the
'
I
i fill
W
Ji
^If
'\
^
i
■ ,>
4 »!
,i'
f
H\
i)
' '\4
I
280 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
pupils of the eyes ; a rise of tenipoiature of tlu> head while tht
hands
hoth 1)
hands aii<l teet are cold, both l)ein<)' a little swollen and I'vent,.
ally l)luish ; if mania proceeds lon^' enou(,di, the ears ai-e fmni
time to time seen to reddi^n in premonition of an attack,
while the nose assumes a dark red coloui-. (Van der Kolk, p.
107.) These thino-s su<,'<;est that deran^rement of vascular
tone is the l)0(lily cause, due to iii()r!)id conditions of thn
vaso-motor nerve centres. Contraction of the pupils is an
invariahle conseipience when the cervical sympathetic is cut,
and this, as Van der Kolk (p. 100) and Criesin^^er (p. 105)
tell us, is a symptom pcrecptiljle for months or even for
years before the outbreak of the mental malady.
Takin<r the two classes of insanity separately, I shall show
how closely the vascular and emotional chanj^es accompany
each other in maniacal and melancholic deran<;-enients. In the
former (usinn- the descriptions of Van der Kolk. p 9()), " the
pulse is j,'enerally (juick, often hard and full, the face is red
and the eyes sparklino- there is an unusual mobility, a
cei-tain precipitation in all action, and in coiisecpience of' this
ajjitation, a decided feelinj;- of health, so that the patient
believes himself to l)e better, brisker, stron^rer than before.
This excitement, this rapid current of thou<rht, the restless
occupation, the iuHamed fancy convince him that he is able
to accomplish moi-e than he formei-Iy could : he feels himself
standin^r hioher. more intellio-ent, richer, or even more power-
ful ; the understandino- is unable to e-overn the impetuous, ever-
swellin^r stream of imajres and ideas, the most extravaf^ant
plans break forth : millions or kin<;(loms are ffambled with, and
we have now to do with a prince or an emperor or a deity."
Griesiuf^er (p. 27;i; ^-ives an analogous description of "^ the
exalting effects of mania. The fundamental feature of the
approach of the disease is over self-confidence. As the
malady progresses the patient " talks in a loud voice, is active
and voracious: he complains of disagreeable sensations in the
epigastric regions ". He begins to have pains in the head,
dizziness, a red face : lie is troubled by constipation and palpi-
tations ; his pulse is feverish and there is often a great
exaggeration of the sexual desires. The patient is easily
plunged into states of violent astonishment or furious iiidig-
INSTINCT.
THE NATIMU-: OF THIC EMOTIONS.
•JSl
ead\vhile the
1 and evfiitu-
iiirs arc Irom
if an attack,
der Kolk, p.
oF vascular
tioiis of tilt'
pupils is an
thctic is cut,
i^-cr (p. lOo)
or cxi'ii t'oi-
I shall show
< afcompany
■nts. In the
p. 9()), " the
i face is red
niohility. a
lence of this
the patient
than l)ufore.
the ivstless
it he is able
eels himself
more power-
ituous, evt'r-
extrava^'ant
ed with, and
I' a deity."
ition of the
ture of the
;. As the
ice, is active
itions ill the
n the liead,
II and palpi-
en a <,a'eat
lit is easily
rious indig-
nation, and, when the insanity is seen to he pronounced, lie
becomes extrava<(antly liappy, ilaneini;, shoutinjf. sinj,nnji-,
lau<,dunif. shriekinjf wildly: he plays irrotcs(|ue pranks (»r
lu'conies recklessly destructive. In (piii'tcr nionients he
a.ssuines a haui;hty tone, or is subliniel\- audaci(jus ; or
perliaps he is only inordinately cheerful. As the destruction
of vascular tone in the brain proceeds the emotions utow
more and more exalted, while the judgment lieeonics utterly
incapal)le of holdine- them in cheek. The patient may on
other topics converse rationally, he may liave lost nothine' f)f
the learnint;- or skill or shrewdness which Ix'fore eharacterise<l
him : but he is tilled with enioti(jns of ^TeatneH.s. His e-eiiius
transcends all that the world has seen, he can tind no name
great enough to express his sense of his own capacity.
Pinel (quoted Maudsley, p. 141 ) ■ was not a little surjirised
to tind many madmen who at no perioil gave evidence of any
lesion of the unilerstanding but who were under the donn'nion
of instinctive fury". He tells of a man who experieiici'd at
regular intervals tits of I'age ushered in by the following
symptoms: a sensation of burning heat in the bowels with an
intense thirst and obstinate constipation: this sense of heat
spread over breast, neck and face along with a bright colour,
while the arteries felt as if about to burst: then came a .san-
guinary propensity, and if he could hi}- hohl of any sharp
instrument he was ready to sacrifice the first person who
came in his way. Yet this man shoAved no sign of inco-
herence or delirium : even in the tit, he felt deeply the horror
of his situation. Such cases are frequent enough in the
experience of every asylum for the in.sane. The well-
known instance of Mary Lamb is illustrative of mania as
an emotional condition free from intellectual derangement.
Griesinger considers tliat all sorts of mental anomalies
result from congestion or ansemia of the brain (p. 422). This
agrees with the experience of Foville ((juoted Carpenter, p.
678,1, who found that in acute cases of mania, jxisf-mniicin
examinations proved the cortical layers of the brain to Ije
intensely red, while in chronic cases they had gone the leni'th
of becoming indurated and adherent. The authorities on the
treatment of the insane insist upon it that in convalescence,
I
I ■'
li
ill'
m
) -it A
m
l< ':
'i
i
J
li
1
1
1
i
1
2f^2 THK ORrCiIN AND (IHOWTH OF THK MOHAL INSTINCT.
.siK'li jiaticiits must he carofuUy kt-pt IVoiii all tliat would
cause a (Ictcrniinatioii oF hlood to the head. Otlierwise every-
thiiio- tliat had heeii done for their alleviation is speedily un-
done. According- to Griesiiiirer (p. 47;i), when an attack of
mania is seen to l)e inuninent, it may often he avoided hy
drawin<i- hloo<l from the hack of the neck; wliile a douche of
C(jlil watei- (p. 2!)4) every moniinn- will pei-maiiently ward ofl"
attacks from some. When an attack has commenced, a tepid
hath for leos, with ice for the neck, may terminate it (p. 474).
Both he and Van der Kolk (p. 105) relate how maniacal
attacks can l)e warded oti'hy rarly administration of dioitalis,
wliich, hy reducing the feverish action of tiie heart, will lessen
the current of hhjod thron«;'h the hrain.
The escape of the nerve-ii'ritant hy some unexpected
channel will often cure the i)atient : an attack of diarrho-a,
or the outhurst of some skin disease, perliaps a distracting'
neurale-ia, or a period of hleedin^- (h- of dropsy will set him
ri^'ht. Cases have heen known in which intensely depressing
emotions have temporarily cured a maniac. A great fi-ight
.so far counteracts the e.xalting emotions to wliich he is
.sul)ject as to leave him f(n- a time a man of sane mind. Tlie
period of convalescence is generally marked hy irritahility of
temper and a general excitahility. Griesinger remarks (p.
45(5) : " As insanity l)egins with perverted emotions, so it is
this phase that is to he looked for also in its disappearance".
All in.sanity which is not mania consists of melancliolia.
When the general circulation of the hody, hut more particu-
larly that of the hrain. is impeded hy morhid conditions, the
mind hecomes depressed ; and, without any exterral reason,
the patient sutlers from anxiety and ceaseless grieving, and
often he passes into a state in which suicide hecomes a fasci-
nation. ^'an der Kolk thus descrihes these sufferers from
melancholia (p. RO): "The patients are mostly .still, depressed,
.sorrowful; they have rarely much confusion of ideas; they
speak and judge correctly, hut they are governed hy the fancy
that they are the most unhappy of men. They fall into the
most liorrihle anxiety, which is cond)ined with a feeUng of
oppression in the chest, or stomach, or alidonien. This feelinp-
of anxiety is generally confounded with a guilty conscience.
INSTINCT.
I tliat would
urwi.se every-
I ,sp('('(lil3' uii-
iiii attack of
t avoidi'd by
a douclu' of
iitly ward off
.'iict'd, a tepid
te it (p. 474).
ow maniacal
II of diu-itulis,
ft, will IfSHeu
unexpected
of diaiThd'a,
I disti-actiuo-
will set him
y defDrcssing
great fright
ivhich he is
mind. T)ie
rrita1)ility of
renuu'kH (p.
oiiH, so it is
)pearance ".
melancholia,
lore particu-
uditiouH, the
rral reason,
;rieving. and
)mes a fasci-
fferers from
1, depressed,
ideas ; tliey
jy the fancy
fall into the
a feeling of
This feeling
■ conscience.
THE NATUHK OF THK EMOTIONS.
283
i;
They Hy from men, like to conceal tliemselves in dai-k corm-rs.
The hrain is .hill, the eye dejected, the pulse small and con-
tracteil."
(iriesinger's descriptions of tlie .seven chief pathological
groups of symptoms that accompany this derangement of the
emotions seem in general to suggest no lesion of the hrain
.substance itself. They point rather to functional disorders
dependent on morbid states of vaso-motor and seci-etory nerves.
A derangement of the visceral (jrgaiis or of their nerves may
cause the blood of the body to remain in sluggish circulation
round the interior parts where the pressure is low, and so to
for.sake the brain and muscles ; in that ca.se the patient will
be languid in body and in mind. This seems to be by far
the UKjst frei(Uent origin of melancholia. A writer who seems
to have had large a.sylum experience (John Macphei'.son, .M.B.,
Jtnti-Du/ nf Mental Srleiioe, l^^-^-i p. 40) asserts that "in a
certain degree every case of mehuicholia is visceral. The
mouth is dry, the tongue fuired, and the bowels constipated."
He tells us that "an in.stantaneous though temporary improve-
ment always follows the relief of a loaded intestine" (p. :iS).
Diseases of the colon, uterus, bladder and wnerative organs
give rise to melancholia ; cholera, typhus and typhoid fever, as
well as various kinds of intermittent fevers have sent their
thousands of cases to the a.sylum, generally in the form of
melanch(jlics. Addi.son's di.sease of the supra-renal capsules,
which are most intimately coiuiected ../.h the sympathetic
.system, almost always produces mel ncholia. (Griesiiiger,
Maudsley, Ziems.'jen.)
The mind cannot control the body in the sense too often
implied in that a.ssertion. A man suffering from melancholia
will feel himself wicked to be so discontente<l and unhappy :
he does his best to shake off the gloom that hangs over him ;
he tries to take an interest in things ; but the brain refuses to
re.spond : he complains that all things round him seem unreal,
•as if heard and seen in a dream.
The imbecile an; of course a totally different class from
the insane. Griesinger divides them into two classes: the
apathetic, and the agitate<l (p. 37()). The distinction is again
based on vascular tone; those in whom blood circulation is
ii
i
If
Mil-'
ii '•*'!
284 THE ORKIIN AM) (IROAVTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
Ix'Iinv till- noniml hciii;,^ proportioiuilly lt'tliiir;,nc : tliosr in
wlioni it is ill cxci'ss l)oin<r !U'C()r(liii<,fly nu'rcuriiil. "In the
mast im)f()uinl cases of idiocy," says (iHcsincfcr, " emotions are
entirely connected with liodily sensations: they appear to
ori,<,nnate without motive thi-ou^li oliscure internal chan;,'es of
the l)rain and nervous s\-stcm."
AiiioiiM- sane people, while the majority are sutficiently
balanei'd in vascular tone to experience the emotions only as
passing' phases, there are multitudes who hahitually incline
to one extreme or the other. There are those by nature
Hij;-hty, whom the French denonunate cnnoitrdi, people who
can never he still, who must talk, thouj,di conscious that what
they say is folly: who boast a ^^reat deal and prattle of
thin<;;s which they know ouoht to be kept secret: wlio spend
hivishly and enjoy tliemselves noisily. These are ahvays liable
to pass by excess of their volatile (jualities into mania.
On the other hand, tliere are ainnidance of sane people
who .spend their lives in chronic dulness and low spirits ;
who take a despondent and lachrymose view of eveiythint,' ;
the world is always usiufr them liadly. If sucli people liave a
^,'•00(1 income tliey are discontented because others have more
who deserve no l)etter ; if they dwidl in this place tliey are
unhappy because not in tliat ; if they have children they
alwa3\s count the expense and never the joy of them ; if they
have none tliey count the joy they miolit have had and never
thhdv of any disadvanta^f(;s. Medical science is now coming;
more and more securely to connect these variations of
emotional cype with bodily conditions ; I have endeavoured
to show that the main bodily variation connected therewith
is the (reneral vascular tone, which ac(iuired its (rreat varia-
bility, because in the early development of animals, just as in
man himself, individual safety depended, and still depends, on
the capacity of the ori^anism to be roused to courai,'e or ama-
toriness on the one hand, or depressed to fear and caution on
the other.
.
H
F
The Prlmauv Emotions.
Darwin says (Expression of the Emotions, p. 69) : " When
the sensorium is strongly excited, nerve-force is generated in
— ~i.-:iK.„.. ■iiiM
- INSTINCT.
ii'xc: those in
rial. " In the
" emotions are
ey appear to
lal chan;jes of
•e sufficiently
otions onl}' as
tually incline
se by nature
/', people wlio
)us that wiiat
1(1 prattle of
t : wlio speml
always liahle
nania.
' sane pt'ople
lo\A' spirits ;
evcrvthin<r ;
people liave a
I's have more
lace tliey are
'hilfhvn they
hem ; if they
ail and never
now eoinin^r
■ariations of
endeavoured
ed therewitli
f,a'eat \'aria-
Us, just as in
I depends, on
ra^^e or ama-
id caution on
69): "When
generated in
THK NATrUK OK THK EMOTIONS. 285
excess, and is transmitted in certain directions". This, while
accurate enough for the purpose the illustrious writer ha<l in
hand, is rendered loose hy the use of the word '"generated ".
An external stinudus of a sense organ cannot generate nerve-
force. It can only release the nei-ve-force which has been
already derived from the food stutl" consumed by the animal.
Even while the animal is asleep the food is being steadily
digested and transformed ; the molecular energy therefrom
derived is stored away in i)otential form I'eady f<jr sub.se(iuent
use. Every ganglion in the body, including, of cour.se, that
greatest of all, the brain, becomes a resei-voir of this energy.
" Each of these ganglia appears to Ije a centre for the develop-
ment or modiiication of nerve- force," says Sir William Flower.
(Bi(i(/ravi of the Ne^'ven of the Hurimn Body, p. 0.) In the
normal state these ganglia give off their streams of energy in
even and well-regulated flow. But in the .struggle for the
emergence of the ])est adapted forms, an animal would have
a lietter chance of surviving in proportion as the sense stimulus
which ainiounced a crisis to be at hand became capable of
releasing tliis stored-up energy at one comparatively l)rief
discharge : and in that capacity lies the found.ition of vvhut
I shall call the primary' emotions.
To give greater delinitene.ss to our conception of the nature
of these simpler emotions I shall attempt a classiHcation of
them with a lirief sketch of the action of each, before {H'oceed-
ing at the close of this chapter to show how their develop-
ment affected the growth of the moral nature.
All these primary enif)tions arose in the Krst place because
they helped to preserve the individual, but they subse(|uently
acquired the power of being contagious because thus they
could better minister to the preservation of animals in society.
An emotion thus derived by contagion, as when the fear
exhibited by one makes all afraid, or when the laughter of
an individual makes many laugh, I shall call the induced
primary emotions. After having discussed these in some-
what sumnuiry fashion, I shall deal still more briefly with
those secondary emotioj!.". inio which intellectua! states in-
trude.
The emotions will appear in groups of three, each group
I
II
k^ii:
28(5 THK ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THK MORAL INSTINCT.
reprcst'iitiii^^ thruc ditiereiit (lef,n-ee.s of inten.sity of the .same
fuiKlaiuoiital feelin^r. Our emotions are .so manifestly tlie
lar^'er part of our lives that it is no wonder if lanjruage
divides them and tickets them oti" in many dej^rees of com-
plexity and stren^rth. Thu.s for the one idea of fear we have
concern, worry, anxiety, suspense, dismay, fri<rht, terror,
dread, horror, with other intermediate f^rades. I shall for
each emotional state choose three {jjrades only, to represent
the positive, comparative, and superlative de<rrees ; thus,
avxletfj, fear, terror. The first set in each colunu) are not,
jH-operly speakin^^, emotions, beinjr no doubt the direct effect
of sen.sations on the sensorium, but they act on the vascular
.system .so as to awaken their appropriate states of accompany-
ing- emotion, and in the history of animal life these were the
earliest and most fundamental for the preservation of the
individual.
IMIIMARY EMOTIONS.
V
Ih'jm'.i.siiifi.
rneasiness.
Piiin.
An<,niisli.
Dejection.
(irief.
Despair.
Anxiety.
Fcai'.
Terror.
Dislike.
.Fealonsy.
Hatred.
E.raltiiui.
(jonifort.
I'le.isni'e.
Kivtasv.
,Iny.
Kntlinsiasm.
Triuni|)li.
Conrn^e
Aiifjer.
Fnrv.
Sexnal Preference.
Lov(>.
Amatory Passion.
Maternal Satisfaction.
.Maternal Love
Maternal J)evotion.
Pain ;ind pleasure are foun.l very far down in the animal
scah^ ; being, as Spencer lias elaborately shown, the motives
which keep the individual from what is injurious, and
L INSTINCT.
y of tlie Name
uaiiifestly the
jr if lan<fuage
jfrees of com-
t' fear we have
friffht, terror,
I sliall for
, to represent
le^'reeH ; thu.s,
hiinn are not,
le flireot ett'ect
I the vasculai"
)f accompany-
bese were the
vation of the
",'/•
3nce.
ion.
5faction.
)tion.
n tlie animal
the niotivew
jurioiLs, and
THE naturp: of the emotions.
•2H7
attract him to what is advantai^eous to his vitality. Pain is
localised in the body: it is the direct operation of the
irritation of certain specific sets of nerves, whose business
it is to bid us seek the discontinuance of some injurious
influence. But, if lon^r continued, it irives rise to ^n-ief,
which is a slow, dull constriction of the vascular system
throuj^hout all the body. The animal when beaten sutlers
pain : but, when enchwed in a ca<;'e for lon<r weeks, endures
^^rief. The sensation of pain leads more or less definitely to
the emotion of ^'rief, and j^rief never exists unless under the
action of the more or less continuous impinifei'^'Mit of sensations
of pain either direct or remembei'ed.
There is the same sort of difference between pleasure and
joy. There is pleasure in eatini;- a ripe peach; there is joy in
goin^- out morning- after mornini,^ an(l watchinif your peaches
ripen and redden. The one is a sensory stimulus, not un-
accompanied with joy ; but the other means that a daily
stimulus of a certain det^'ree of pleasure gives a certain
noticealjle fulness and vii^our to the flow of your blood. A
continued anticipation of the sensation of pleasure will i,dve
rise to the emotion of joy : while the realisation of a comin;M-
pain will keep the circulation low and languid, so that the
individual will experience the emotion of grief.
Fear and grief have nnich that is fundamentally analo-
gous, but they differ in two respects. Fear is due to a more
or less sudden closing down of the blood-vessels of the body;
we soon recover from the ett'ect when tlie cause is gone : but in
grief a steady constriction is placed on the vessels, and the
vital tone, though less shar^jly, is more permanently lowered.
When fear is long continued it brings grief, but not other-
wise. If a man narrowly escapes death by a sudden accident,
he may testify that lie experienced nnich fear, but never any
grief: but if he were shipwrecked and passed several days in
a position of extreme jeopardy, a state of fear would pass
into one of dejection or grief. Moreover, fear is the con-
vulsive slirinking from a pain seen to be approaching,
as when a dog crouches beneath the uplifted stick : while
grief is
to tl
le
continuous
successive action
lepression of the bodily powers due
of small pains, as when the dog is
1 I
';!
! ii
•288 THE ORRilX AM) (fUOWTH OF THE MOUAL IXSTINCT.
1)
(1 of wli
unhappy hecause instead ot wJiippm^- lum you refrani from
your usual caresses all the rest ol' the day. If there be
any difficulty in understandini-- how the same <-eneral con-
dition of vascular tone may, by specific ditterences of detail,
<4'ive rise to emotions so distinct as those of feai- and o-rief, let
it be remembereil tliat li<-ht vibrations failino- on the retina of
the eye will ^nve rise to the sensations of red or ^rreen accord-
ing as these vil)rations are slower oi- faster. The mechanism
is still a matter explained by rival anil inconsistent theories,
but the simple fact is known that thino's so like as vibrations
of varyinjf speed can oive rise to sensations so unlike as red
or purple liirht.
The effects <jf fear in its intenser forms are easily imitated
by the stimulation of the sympathetic nerves. When an
electric current is sent into the gani,dia of the neck the
followino' are the results, according-- to Landois. The pupils
of the eyes dilate : the eyes themselves start from the head ;
the cornea becomes round and protuberant : the blood cur-
rents are intercepted to the ear, face and mouth, which
therefore become pale ; the flow of saliva is checked; so also
is tlie How of tears: and the secretion of sweat is deranj^-ed.
With lesser states of i'vav the symptoms are more
or less mixed and conrtictin<,f : but when this emotion is
intense, the physical features are precisely those ilescribed for
stinuilation of the cervical gan(>-lia. In the hio'her mammals,
but moi-e especially in man, the facial nerve is hif,dily de-
veloped : and, for reasons connected with the growth of the
induced pi'imary emotions, this takes a large share of the
discharge of nerve stinuilation which proceeds from the
sensorium Its activity gives movement to the muscles of
the face, l)ut i)articularly to the platijsvut viynides nuiscle of
the cheek and neck. In violent terror ^his muscle tends to
open the mouth and draw its angles outwards.
But the nerve stimulus after dischai-ge into the nerves of
the head, overflows into those of the body. Landois, as the
result of experiments by Jiernard, Cyon, and Berzold, states
that electrical excitement of the accelerating fibres in the
ganglionic chain ipiickens the heart's action, while further
<lown, excitement of the splanchnic branches of the sym-
I
L INSTINCT.
THE NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS.
289
pathetic intensifies the movements of the intestines, ],ringing
on diarrlKea ; while at the same time the ki.hieys are thrown
into o-reater activity. This is always the action of violent
fear. The action of the heart is quickened and the l)owe]s
are sharply moved. Dr. Samuel Wilks remarks that many
animals wlien hunted leave upon the ^n-ound trails of evil-
smelling' fluid, evacuated from the bowels by reason of fear.
(Diseases of Nervous System, p. 491.) Hartmann relates
(Anthropoid Apes, p. 265) that purj^atives were never needed
for a .rorilla whieh ho lono- had under his notice. A sudden
trumpet blast in its ears was sufficient soon to briui.- on a
copious disciiaro-e. So, too, with the action of the bhidder.
Fear makes every animal anxious to relieve it, and when I
have l)een takino- the temperature of animals I liave foun.l in
many species of mammal that an iunnediate discliarjie is an
almost im-ariable symptom of extreme fear.
^ It has already been shown that the stimulus which de-
prives the muscles of blood must give to the internal organs
an increased supply Hence that which blanches the skin
nicreases the evacuations of the viscera and renders them
more watery than usual, an effect always perceiveil as the
effect of fear. (Wilks, p. 4f)l.) In grief the results are not so
mvariable : there are some who seem to suffer from consti-
pation during the contiiniance of that emotion: others are
niconvenienced by diarrlKea. An experiment of Botkin and
Roy (.juofed Landois and Stirling, sect. 108) shows that
electrical stimulation of the splanchnics always causes a
<lilatation of the spleen, a feature which gene.-ally accompanies
depressnig emotions. The nursing mother after a Ht of fear,
or during the continuance of grief, will find hei- milk deHci-
ent and of pool- .|uality. Xot only has her bloo.l circulation
been shut off fr„m the breasts, because they lie on the surface,
but the secretory nerves have themselves b.«en disoiganised. '
Dislike, jealou.sy, and hate are in their physiology closely
analogous to fear and grief. They whiten the skin, reduce
the glandular secretions, and .K^press the vitality, but they have
<-iie very distinctive iVatuiv, The bodily powers which they
restrain are still present, though kept in repression. Hence
the t)()dy is in a peculiarly explosive coii.Htion, so tliat violent
vol.. II. [()
t ■
i!
■ *
■
■ ^i ''^
if ' ■'■
/
^1
290 THK ORIGIN AND (JROWTH OF TK¥. MORAL INSTINCT,
)f
ddenly burst fortli jit a toucli
TIu
noun
paroxysm H
man who U
tinued hate will redden at the sight of the object of his dis-
like. The woman who looks like marble from the deadly
<,niawino' of jealousy will show a deep dark Hush when her
rival suddeidy comes in si<>-ht. Fear, <,n-ief, and hate can all
exist to<;ethei- in the one mind, for they depend on what is
only the one bodily condition. They all arise from })ain or
expectation of pain. If this bodily condition actini^- in the
motive sphere of the animal's mind impels it only to escape
from pain, the emotion is fear; but when tlie sig-ht or sound
of that which has caused pain is itself painful, the emotion of
hate arises. When pain has no strong effect upon motive, but
continues as a dull depression of vascular tone, we call it gi'ief.
The emotions which exalt the animal frame are more
numerous than those whicli depress, because it has been of
more preservative value that an animal should be roused
than that it should be repressed, Joy, courage, anger, sexual
desire, and matei-nal devotion have all been necessary in the
highest degree to tlie survival of every species of fairly well-
developeil animals. They have all meant the heightening of
the vital faculties for the accomplishment of some specific act
needful for life of individual or of species.
The physiological action of all may be accurately imi-
tated in experiments by the severance or paralysis of tlie
.sympathetics. The blo(j(l then Hows through the .superficial
vessels of the l)ody, leaving .somewhat depleted those of the
internal organs ; the heart beats more strongly ; the muscles
are invigorated; the skin acts freely: the pupils are con-
tracted ; the muscles of the eye contract, and this gives the
eyes, not the protuberant gleam of fear, but a cex-fain sparkle
well known as a feature of joy, of anger, of love, and high
wrought feeling. The face and head of a baby, eight days (jld,
as Darwin informs us {Krpr. of Emotions, p. 155)), will red<len
suddenly in a tit of anger, and we know that if its cervical
ganglia could be cut through, precisely the .same efl'ect would
follow. But to siuuilate the whole etiect of anger we shouhl
have to tlivide the sympathetic in several places so as to
.secure the dilatation of the blood-vesHels throughout the
L INSTINCT.
a toucli. The
n^ a lon<;'-C()n-
ject of liis (lis-
)in the lU'adly
ush when lior
ill liate can all
ml on what is
from pain or
actin<i- in the
)nly to escape
si<;'ht or sound
the emotion of
on motive, hut
re call it ifrief.
•mie are more
t has heen of
lid he roused
, aiiij^er, .sexual
!ces,saiy in the
)f fairly well-
lei^'hteninn' of
iiu specific act
icurately imi-
ralysis of the
the superficial
those of the
; the muscles
ipils are con-
thi.s o-ives the
ertain s})ai'kle
ove, and hi^^h
'ij;ht days old,
)), will redden
if its cervical
e effect would
Lfer we should
ices so as to
roUf^'hout the
THE NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS.
291
body. Takin^^ the case of fury as heinjr the most extreme
of the .set, all the veins of the body are .seen to swell, the
hands are clenched, the teeth are set, the saliva foams fi-om
the mouth; the mu.scles of the larynx bein^- contracted, the
breathin^r is heard rou^'hly, or there may be shoutin^r or
screaminfr.
The ^a-eat How of Ijlood thus occasioned to the nniscles
of the peripheral part reduces the pre.ssure in the intei'iial
organs: while the face i-eddens, the stomach and intestines
grow white. H(>nce a violent tit of anger is followed hy in-
digestion and constipation, with scantier and more deeply-
coloured urine. But the.se disadvantageous effects are chieHy
seen in the liver, wherein blood pre.s.sure is extremely low.
Moreover, the pre.ssure under which bile is expelled from the
liver is very slight, not a tenth part of the pressure in a
normal artery. Blood, tiierefore, can Hnd its way freely
through the liver only when its course through othei-'parts of
the body is .somewhat restricted. If in a Ht of anger all the
superHcial blood-ve.ssels are overcharged with blood, the con-
seipience nuist be that the portal cii'culation of the liver,
conducted at a pressure less than a fifteenth of that elsewhere,'
is for the time being almost obliterati'd, and the bile which
the liver should secrete is either ncjt produced or else is re-
alworbed. Now each of us i-eijuires that from 500 to ()0()
litres of blood should pa.ss thi-ough the liver in a day, ,so
that we may derive therefrom the i-e((uisite amount of bile
and glycogen for the use of the l)()dy. If this flow In;
seriously checked for an hour or two, the l)ile already
pro.luced is absorbed into the lymphatics, and a bilious attack
is very probable. (Lauder Brunton, p. 1 84.)
Thus after the angry man has set upon the timid man and
tried to '■hrottle him, the latter, who.sc skin was white, sutlers
from heart palpitations and subse(|uent diarrhoea: while the
formtir, whose skni was red, suffers Itoim biliousness and sub-
.seciuent constipation. The languages of all primitive peoples
cleai-ly recognise this connection. The heart, the liver, the
.stomach, the bowels, are made the seats of all passions an.d
emotions. We still talk about black bile, and speak of a man
having no stomach to tight ; we talk of warm-hearte<l people
292 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OP THE MORAL INSTINCT.
If" ■
II I
II :
f
IS ]
P
and (|Uote Scripture as to " bowels of mere}' ". But, of course,
in those expressions tlie indirect effect is put in plactj of the
cause. The efficient a^ent is the alterin^Li; blood pre:-sure in
the surface and central vessels: all these internal effects are
but consequences of this.
In a state of healtliful happiness all the blood-vessels are
in ijfood tone : and this tone, with its accompanying j^ood
spirits, can often be secured by mechanical means. A man
rises in the morninj,' in a depressed frame of mind. He walks
down to the sea, takes a pluno-e, ru])s liis skin well with a
roufi'h towel, walks briskly back, and lo, the black cloud has
lifted from the outlook of the day's pursuits. A lady, nursing
a sick child, is looking very white and miserable. Induce her
to go for a drive or, bettei- still, for a smart walk ; she comes
back to her work with a nianifest improvement in spirits.
Surely this is a very evident proof that the tone of the mind
is the presentation to consciousness of the tone of the body.
In the case of joy, enthusiasm, or triumph, the tone of the
superficial blood-vess(;ls is somewhat disturbed in the direc-
tion of fulness. The body is energetic ; animated gesture
•relieves the muscles of their overflowing energy ; shouts and
waving of hats : the grasp of cordial hands ; even dancing,
capering, and wild demonstrations, help to give vent to that
exuberant fulness of vascular tone which is the emotion of
joy on its physical side.
Anger diti'ers from joy as fear from grief. It generally
arises from a more sudden stimulus, it is more violent in its
action, but as a rule more evanescent. It throws all the
vigour of the body into a few uncontrollable eflorts, which
leave the muscles thereafter tired and trembling. Moreover,
in anger and fear tlie attention is concentrated on the cause
of the stimulus, wlKireas in joy and grief the individual ex-
periences only a passive consciousness of his vascular condi-
tion. A man cannot be angry without having the object of
his anger in his mind and wishing to oppose or destroy it; he
cannot be afraid without thinking of the ol)ject of his feai"
and wishing to escape it. But he may go on with his daily
tasks and have his mind engrossed in them while vaguely
conscious of the pulse of joy that courses through his body.
N~^.
INSTINCT.
5ut, of course,
placis of the
1 pn';:sure in
al cflectH are
)d-vesselH are
lanying good
ms. A man
I. He walks
I well with a
ick cloud has
lady, nursing
Induce her
c ; she comes
nt in spirits.
of the mind
f the body.
e tone of the
in the direc-
lated gesture
; shouts and
ven dancing,
I vent to that
e emotion of
THE NATURE OP THE EMOTIONS.
or while there is only a background (jf jrrief dindv fel
It generally
violent in its
rows all the
jtibrts, which
r. Moreover,
on the cause
ndividual ex-
Lscular condi-
the oliject of
lestroy it : he
t of his fear
vith his daily
'hile v^aguely
Ligh his body,
:
293
, _ . ,, „ ^. .. t as a
loss of vitality. Joy and anger both are exaltations of l)()d:iy
faculty, but whereas the one is perceived as an agreeable
tonic, the other, unless in a mild degree as a mere excitement,
is too severe in its strain to l)e a source of pleasure.
This, however, can scarcely be liidd to exhaust the full
measure of ditterence between joy and anger. There are
obscure effects upon the region (jf UKjtive to he taken into
account. When the youth receives a sweet smile from the
object of his affections his pulses throb witli joy, he is full of
energy and would walk a hundred miles for her .sake. But when
he sees her give a sweeter smile to his rival, his pulses throb
still more: again his energies swell high, but now they impel
him in a wholly different direction, and he longs to knock the
man Hat, to kick him, or liglit him, or otherwise expend his
overflowing energy upon the object that has stimulated it.
But though the operation of bodily state upon motive is in
many respects obscure, we may feel certain that the same pro-
cess of development which gave to animals their emotions as
their only motive power, would cultivate a delicate adjust-
ment between the internal condition and the external circum-
stances it was intended to provide fcr.
The sexual emotions belong to the same general cla.ss as
tho.se of joy and anger, (|uickening the blood flow and height-
ening the bodily faculties. They pass very readily into"joy
on the one hand, or into courage and anger on the other. To
be in love with a woman is to feel the pulse flutter at a
glimpse of her, to feel a thrill at the sound of her voice, to
feel the blood rush on in riotous impulse at the touch of her
hand. The man who can sit beside a pretty woman and ex-
perience no vascular change, may have the highest regard and
respect for her, but he is wholly fancy-free. But if he has
any reason for not wishing to fall in love with her, yet feels
these subtle thrills through the blood-vessels of his body, it is
time he should depart.
All these emotions but one are fully developed in all
warm-blooded animals, au<l form tlie most notable feature of
their lives. But the last of them, maternal devotion, appears
only in slight measure in many of the mammals. The early
:.<
ill
IP
i h
i i
I
h I
tl '!
294 THE OUIGIN AND GKOWTH ()!•" THK MORAL INSTINCT.
clijiptcrs of this hook wi'i'c devottMl t() the purpose of dcscrihino;
liow and why it ifrew, slowly (lev'L'lopin}4- in Hsli iuid reptile,
hut proj^ressing more rapidly in l)ird and hijjfliei- maninial.
It lias already heen sliown that maternal att'ection is connected
fundamentally with a change of vascular tone, which causes
the yearning' tenderness experienced hy the mother at sii;ht
of lier hahe, especially in the period of sucklinij. 1 shall
shortly have to explain how this wi(h'i'.s out into a more
ji'enei'al emotion of sympathy, and ^ives rise to the wider
influence of parental love.
But hefore proceedin<;- to consider this and tlie rest of the
induced primary em >tions, I shall here deal hi'ietiy with some
anomalies that arise in this view of all emotion as hein<(
fountle(l on changes of l)odily tone. It is sti'any'e, for instance,
if fear is a dampin<;' down of the bodily ener^'ies, that it should
hrin;;' an animal strenj^-th for Hi<;-ht : it is sti'an<;e that while
ano;er reddens the face it .should, when long continued, make it
deadly white. Other difficulties of this kind may easily l)e
enumerated ; hut they are of a piece with similar anomalies
everywhere seen in the action of the sympathetic. For in-
stance, a slin^ht scratch on the skin, as with a thumb liglitly
drawn over it, produces a white line ; one more violent pro-
duces a red line. A little cold makes our hands red, but
severe colil makes them white, and .so on. It is to l)e re-
membered, however, that all our blood-vessels are under the
control of a double set of vaso-motors, tlie vaso-constrictors
and the vaso-dilators. The one set are the more readily
irritated, yet the other, thouo-h slower in be<>'inninj^ to act,
are the more permanent in their effects.
J. R. Bradford has shown (Proo. Ihnj. Soc, 1889, p. 862)
that a slowly rliythmic current of electricity sent throuj;Ii the
splanchnics will cau.se the kidneys to contract and the blood
pressure to fall ; while a quickly rhythmic current will pro-
duce precisely opposite effects. J. N. Stewart has shown
(Jon.rii. of Phi/^io., 1802, p. (iO) that similarly anomalous
effects are secured by stinnilation of the two nerves that
control the heart. Stimuliition of the vajftis imme(liately
slackens the heart's action, stimulation of the sympathetic
quickens it. Not till after the lapse of some time, however,
INSTINCT.
THE NATUHK OF THK KMOTIONS.
20;
of (U'scrihinn;
and reptilo,
UT inuiniual.
1 is connected
whic'li causes
Ann- at si^lit
iny. I shall
into a more
to tile wider
le rest of the
\y with some
ion as heiiijf
, i'or instance,
liat it sliould
re that wliile
does tliis latter etiect heconie considerahle, but it
even
tually
lued, make it
lay easily he
ar anomalies
tic. For in-
mmb liglitly
violent pro-
nds red, hut
is to be re-
•e under tlie
-constrictors
nore readily
niny to act,
1889, p. 362)
through the
nd the blood
■nt will pro-
has shown
' anomalous
nerves that
immediately
sympathetic
le, however,
'
;;'rows the more powei-Ful of the two. A heart that has ceased
to l)eat under excessivt; stimulus of the vaj^us may be made to
start a<;ain when the stinuilus of tlie sympatlietic approaclies
its maxinnnn (p. 88). Lepine has shown (ipioted Stcwai-t)
that when a warm le<f has its sciatic stimulated, the bicxjd-
vessL'ls are thereby eonti'actei] : but if the lejf be cold, precisely
the same stimulus causes dilatation. From a paper of Cyon
(CoiiipirK licvihis, I8(i!), p. .")(i8) we leai'n that an irritation
unaccompanied by the .sense of pain will .so act upon the vaso-
motors as to dilate the vessels: hut whenever a sensation of
pain accompanies the irritation of preci.sely the same nei've,
the ett'ect is to constrict the vessels. Apparently anomalous
results of this class are very mimerous in comiection with
vaso-motor excitation.
Without entering', therefore, into a detailed examination
which would be ecjually out of place and l)eyonil my skill, it
is deal' that in the expei'imental reactions of the whole sym-
pathetic sy.stem, there abound anomalous ctlects of the same
sort as are seen in emotional dei'ani>ements. If a laily at Iier
toilet saw the orinninf^ face of a maniac ajjpear at her window,
Jier heart would .seem to stop still on the instant with a
.shock of fear and all strength wouhl seem to desert her ;
but a second after, when she saw him endeavour to open
the window, she mii^-ht turn and Hee with a .speed and
.strength unusual to her, and her heart, which an in.stant before
had seemed to have been paralysed, would now be felt to
gallop furiously. Anomalies of this kind are easily compre-
hen.sible, thoug-li perluips not as yet fully explicable, when we
remember that vascular tone is everywhere due to the balance
of <ipposing nerves, which may l)e uneipially or alternately
stimulated: or which may .so act that while one is the earlier
in action the other may eventually be the more .strongly acted
upon by the same irritation.
Induced Pui.marv Emotions.
All these primary emnti(^ns have refereno<> only to the
.safety of the indivithial ; l)ut so soon as animals grow social,
it is found to l)e a huge advantage if tlv otions become
I'!
S'll;
I
296 THE ORKUN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
contiiffious. U Olio in a shoal of Hsli sees an enemy too hio- to
be fonjfht, it turns and darts away. All the others, though
they have not themselves seen the dantjjer, take infection from
the fear of the first, and those animals in which this emotion
is most coiita<;-i(ms will assuredly have the better chance of
surviviuo;. But if one of the shoal, carryin<,^ its si(jbt afar
under the dim waves, perceives a shoal of smaller iish, courai;'e
and liunovr prompt it to dash ott'to the prey. All the others
catch the in.'ection ; and we perceive, not the stampede of
fear, liut the rush of hosts to battle or to the feast. An<>-er is
conta^'ious, for it is an advanta^'e to a species that if one or
two should dash themselves with fury on the foe, all may be
impelled to do likewise. This contaiiiousness of eiiKjtioii is
that wliicli fundamentally produces the preservative value of
social life.
The nature of the nerve action produced by any emotional
stimulus is obscure, and we cannot yet describe how it is that
the si^ht of fear makes us afraid, the si<(ht of ano-er njuses
our temper. But we most certainly know how clear is the
fact that these stimuli of infection do actually occur, the in-
duced emotion beinjf exactly aualo<,'ous to the primary. If
when a concert hall is full of people, a man rushes in, breath-
less, speechless, pale in face, with his eyes starinjr and his
limbs trembling, ai\ instant shock of cont;>,ious fear spreads
through all or almost all the audience. Some in-estrainable
voice calls out " Fire " and a wild stampede occurs. But
suppose that during the panic some individual mounts the
platform with cool frame, calm attitude, and a loud unshaken
voice, and calls out to the people that there is no reason for
alarm, his manner, far more than his words, will reassure
them : they will catch from him the infection of courage, and
calmness may thus be restored.
Every officer knows how two or three cowards in a
company will affect the rest. The average mortal cannot in
a time of uncertainty feel the trembling of his neighbour's
body and not experience some emotion of alarm. But courage,
too, is contagious, aid a brave fellow will fill with bravery all
who are near him. Many a battle has been won by the
infectious daring of the standard-bearer who leaps into the
, INSTINCT.
iiTiy too bi(j to
)tlH'rs, thouffh
infection from
1 this emotion
tter chfinee of
its si^fht afiir
rfish, couraij;e
All the otlurs
I stampede of
1st. Anjfer is
that if one or
)(.', all may he
of emotion is
ative value of
liny emotional
how it is that
an^vr rouses
»• clear is the
occur, the in-
primary. If
les in, breath-
irini^ and his
j fear spreads
irrestrainable
occurs. But
1 mounts the
Dud unshaken
no reason for
will reassure
couraj^e, and
;o wards in a
•tal cannot in
s nei^dibour's
But courage,
th bravery all
won by the
saps into the
u
THE N.VrrRE OF THE KMOTIONS.
297
waves, or of the stout lea<lers of some column who have hui-led
themselves impetuously- on l)rid;;-e, or fonl, or other key to a
military position, Many a seaman has auv^ht coolness and
courajre by taking' an occasional look at his captain patroUinu'
the (leek, like Nelson, in (|uiet conversation while the masts
and bulwarks were splintering all around. The private
soldier who saw General Gordon coolly lighting his cigarette
in the midst of the hottest action must have felt his nerves
thereby steadied: while th<- Might of the leader, whether
Darius or Honorius, .Medina or James II., has always led to
irretrievable disaster.
I make no attempt here to e.xplain tlie mode of operation
by which infectious stimuli thus act. It is enough for our
present purjjose that they are most manifestly active causes.
Audubon relates that he has often .seen a row of pelicans
stand motionless for hours; suddenly one would yawn, where-
upon all of them from one end of the line to the other would
similarly yawn. If on«; canary begins to singf, a score immedi-
ately keep him company. If a cock hears a erow, faint in the
distance of miles, he is impe|l"d by the stimulus to lift up his
voice likewise. If a dog howls, all the others of the neighbour-
hood commence. If one baby in a room l)egins to cry, each
one takes up the wail in turn. If one person huighs, others
must laugdi too. I have never shown to childi-en Hogarth's
engravingr of the laughing- audience without seeing them all
break into a broad .smile ; and a magic-lantern s'.ide I possess,
which consists merely of an instantaneous photograph of a girl
in the midst of a hearty laugh, always produces a loud ex-
plosion among the little folk by mere contagion. The mind
has small control ovej- this sort of infection, as those must
always find who wi.sh to be solemn on some serious occasion,
yet are smiled or winked at by a more frivolous person. It
is remarkable how naturally smile answers to smile. I have
found by observation of my cliildren that this faculty of re-
sponse begins about the age of two and a half month.s.
There are thousands of well-known facts which force us
to the conclusion that our nervous systems are most delicately
susceptible to emotional states arising from external stimuli
that have no sort of apparent co<fency. A strong man will iu
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298 THR OlttdlN AM) 'JROWTH OF THK MoUAI, INSTIXCT,
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\»U^ .'f»*leav<)nr to sit ([uii'tly lU'Wi « hoy wlio loosely iscnipos
a Hlato-piencil on a slate. The sound of saw-sliarponiiiff irritates
most people, and \'()<;t says that with a saw and a tile, men
can put the beech niaiien into so tuifiovernable a fury tliat it
darts from its nest and is easily caught in nets. A barrel
orjran can almost kill one man with nervoiLs irritation, while
the bay:pipes .send another into alwolutely furious moods.
The plea.sant .sensations of nmsic are of ihe .same class. A
martial strain .sets our blood boilini;-, and wt! lono- to join the
march: to that music we could trud^^-e lon<;- lea<,mes and not
i;tow tired. Heard at a popular concert, it sets many to
stamp in time. Hut a plaintive [)as.sa';'e for strin^-ed instru-
ments has a wholly diti'eivnt eti'ect on our nerves, and
therefore on our va.scular .system, and conse(|uently on oui-
emotions. A fine symphony well played may jjive rise to an
ex(|uisite succession of emotional .states merely by the soothin<;-
or rousino- effect ui)on the nerves jiivxluceil hy subtle com-
binations of air vibrations. If an oi-chestra entered into a
conspiracy that at a certain liar of a delicious a(hi(>-io they
were to abandon the music for a simultaneous riot of dis-
jointed di.seords, how oreatly would the emotional state of
the coinioi.sseur be altered : From the delinht of beinj;- lulled
in soft Lydian airs, one would see him sprini;- to his feet,
his face red with au<;ei- and distorted with nervous irri-
tation.
One can often feel the sui)tle play of musical vibrations
among the nerves. In Darwin's autobio<;Taphic sketch 1 1 ife
and Letters, i., p. 49) he tells us tliat music i^ave him inten.se
pleasure, .so that his backbone would sometimes shiver I
have induced many persons who were specially susceptible to
musical influence to o'ive me their experiences : and tlirough
all the confusion of their descriptions, there is one thino-
ioler •••ly clear, that tie physical effect is a change of vascular
tone s. . idiiif out from the region of the diaphragm and there-
fore prrw;;; .V .1101,^:1 opcrat iiig througli .some pelvie plexus. I
have koiit ; ^.ts of my owr sensations on occasions when I
happene*: to be affected '^Vj instrumental work wherein no
mental influence of words could arise. The first time 1 heard
the overture to Semii-amide I noted a deliciously shivering
. INSTINCT.
ooHt'l^' .scrapes
eiiiiifif irritates
mil a tile, men
a fury tliat it
its. A Iwrrel
I'itation, while
IS moods,
aiae class. A
)<;■ to join the
^nies and not
sets many to
in^ed instru-
nerves, and
lently on oin*
I'wr rise to an
i the .soothini^'
' snl)tle coiM-
iitered into a
ada^'io the}'
■< riot oF dis-
011 a 1 state of
t bein^ lulled
f to his feet,
nervous irri-
lal vibrations
sketcli ( / '■/'(?
) him inteii.se
es shir ..r I
iusceptiblo to
and tlirougb
is one thinir
e of vascular
;'ni and there-
vie ple.xus. I
ions wlien I
wherein no
time 1 heard
ily shivering
THE N.VTURH OK THE EMOTIONS.
299
sciisatiDii welling upward from the middle of the backbone ;
ramifying into the head, with a .st'ii.st! of infinite e.Kpansive-
ness so that till' cliest seemed to grow strange!}- large and
l()si> its sub.sfaiitiality ; little nervous ripples at every chro-
matic tiansltioii si'emeil to trickle through the head: and,
from u ptci.liar melting feeling and gentle inward |)ressnre,
till eyes threatened to be half suH'usimI with tears, a tingling
of i>lood at the ears and a certain glow of warmth on neck and
cheek seemed to .show that the v'liiotioii which the music
evoki'd was the result of a greater admission of blood into the
vessels. I have notes of similar .sensations in hearing s(ane
<if Spohr's music, in the slow movements of Beethoven's
.symphonies and sonatas ; with others of Schumann and
Schubert. My own experience, as well as the evidence I
have been able to gather, .satisfies nie that while the first
effect of rhythmic impingement of vibration is (m the nerve
system, the next is ujioii the vascular tone of the body.
Even apart from musical chords and cunuingly contrived
.se(|Uences, monotonous sounds have charms of their own.
The sibilant roar of falling water .soothes our nerves: .so do
the monotonous lowing of herds, the bleating of .sheep, the
cooing of stockdoves, and the long unvaried chirp of the
grasshoppers and crickets. Where I now sit writing, the
delicate lap of wavelets on a summer beach rises up a grassy
slope in a rustle more soothing to the nerve, and there-
fore to the emotions, than the most delicately nai'cotic of
<lrugs.
Our .systems then are exquisitely sensitive to nerve
.stimulus, and strange effects do we see in little infections of
everyday life. Man}- people long to dance when they see
others dancing : one hysteric woman will make half a dozen
hysteric. In a church, if one person coughs, a dozen others
must cough : if two people are arguing in a loud tone we feel
our tempers slowly rising and it is hard to keep cool : the low
moaning of a sick person in another room is an absolute
torture. Every passion, every feeling ma}- thus be trans-
mitted by contagion ; enthusiasm, hope, joy, fury, courag-
fear, despair, grief, may all be imparted by the mere look of
a countenance. Your dog takes one glance at your face and
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300 THE OEIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
his emotional state is instantly framed in accordance with
what he reads therein.
But of all thino-s that thus affect us, none acts so strongly
as the sinjht of l)lood and wounds in others. Take an average
person round a surgical ward of a hospital to see the cases
dressed, or perhaps a minor operation performed, he will
emerge white and sick-looking with all the appearance of one
who had conu' through a very grievous experience. Until
trained to it, tVw can even witness a serious operat.' n.
I once saw an omnibus run over a dog, which I then per-
ceived in a convulsive struggle, its entrails protruding. I
made a note subseiiuently of my own sensations. There was
a severe shock somewhere near the stomach, a cold shudder,
and an innnediate sense of sickness, followed by a great
weariness of the legs. After that time I made a practice of
asking my friends what were their experiences under similar
circumstances, and I obtained information from thirty-eight
in all. Three of them described a most disagreeable shock in
the bowels, followed after a time by diarrluHa: a fourth
added to this a creeping shudder up the backbone. Five
described the first sensation as a shock in the small of the
back followed by stomach sickness. Three spoke of a shock
in the calves of the legs, running thence up the body. Five
told me of loss of power in the knees, as the first thing
actually noticed: one of a shock in the arms, just above the
elbow : one described a choking sensation, and six remem-
bered nothing except a feeling of sickness in the stomach,
which in severe cases would produce actual vomiting. Five
described how the lirst sensation is a sharp shock in that part
of the body corresponding to the place injured in the person
or animal that has been hurt. Three spoke oidy of a strong
tug at the heart with an almost uncontrollable impulse to
scream. Two spoke of a general thrill of horror which
makes it physically impo,ssible to continue looking ; one feels
a fascination compelling him to look, while tremors of sick-
ness well up, and a cold clammy sweat appears. Two described
a sudden jump of all the muscles in the body followed by an
uncontrollable (juivering. Nearly all speak of severe cases
as causing collapse, and all suffer more or less from trem-
L INSTINCT.
icorrlance with
cts so .strongly
ike an average
see the cases
rmed, he will
earance of one
i-ience. Until
'rat.' 1.
;eh I then per-
rotruding. I
s. There was
cold sluidder,
d by a great
e a practice of
nnder similar
11 thirty-eight
sable shock in
Ilea : a fourth
;kbone. Five
! small of the
•ke of a shock
i body. Five
le iirst thing
ist above the
1 six remeni-
the stomach,
riiting. Five
V in that part
in the person
y of a strong
e impulse to
borror which
ng ; one feels
iiors of sick-
\vo described
llowed by an
severe cases
^ from trem-
THE NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS.
301
bling, and whiteness of skin, foi- some time after witnessing
such an accident. These are all l)odily effects, capable of
being blunted and modified by habit, but not of being con-
trolled by the mind. A man may give a fortune for the
purpose of erecting a hospital, yet l)e uttei-ly unable to wit-
ness one of the surgical operations for which his own
generosity has provided the means.
The sight of pain is, therefore, capable of producing strange
nervous and vascular efiects. So also in its own degree is the
.sight of pleasure. Does any one see the land)s frisking or
the kittens at their frolic without experiencing some emo-
tional change I Can you listen to the blithe notes of the
woodland birds or hear the happy chatter of children tum-
bling about on a hay-rick without feeling at your lieart a
little riutter of pleasant emotion :* Join a popular audience in
witnessing a good melodrama. When the hei'oine is in her
deepest distress and her sobs echo througli the breathless
theatre, you can hear the women gulp down their uncontrol-
lable sorrow, and see the big tears roll down numberless
cheeks. They know that the whole thing is a fiction, but
the mind has nothing to do with the origin of the emotion.
Certain sights and sounds have brought about a vascular
condition to which .sobs and tears are the natural secjuence.
But watch that audience when the villain is about to be ex-
posed : .see how the eyes brighten, how the clieeks redden,
how the lips are parted. Virtue is triumphing, the hero
clasps to his bo.som his faithful sweetheart. After all their
trials they are supremely happy. Their joy is contagious:
pit and gallery are cm-aptured by an infection working
through eye and ear. Victory gleams on every face : many
are so excited that they start to their feet shouting and
waving their handkerchiefs. If the curtain then goes down,
and you watch these people defile through the do()l•wa3^s, you
will read on their faces the bodily tone which was the basis
of all that exuberant demonstrativeness.
The capacity to be thus moved, howe\ei-, is very ditli'rent
in dirterent natui-es. Just as some people are utterly in-
ditt'erent to music wliich will make others almo,st swoon with
emotional intensity, so there are men who can experience
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302 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THP: MORAL INSTINCT.
pleasure in vvitneHsiiif.- pain, and to whom the happiness of
their fellows jrives a positive dissatisfaction. But we apply
the term sympathy to that general tendency which makes
men (.'rieve at the pains and rejoice in the pleasures of their
fellows. Sympathy may therefore be regarded as the capacity
of contagiousness in emotion.
On its physical side it implies a delicate nerve suscepti-
bility to the signs of emotions in others, so that the sight of a
man's deathl)ed agony is an inexpressible torture, the sight of
a child's birthday happiness an ex(juisite pleasure. I have
occupied a large part of this book in showing that this
sympathetic capacity originated in the parental relationship.
That a mother should find pleasure in promoting the pleasure
of her ortspring, and pain until she could relieve their pain,
was only another aspect of that maternal care which we saw
to be absolutely essential before the types of higher intelli-
gence could make good their footing in a world of struggle
and destruction. But when once the capacity had tlnis
originated it was seen how greatly it uuist have been re-
inforced in proportion as it made itself felt also in the
forms of conjugal sympath}', and, later on, oF social sym-
pathy.
My task is now completed so far as it seems possil)le for
me to carry it. I have shown how probable it is that changes
of vascular tone, when they affect oiu- consciousness, give rise
to emotions. These emotions are our chief if not our only
motives to action. The more highly an animal is organised
in its nervous type, the more susceptible is it to emotional
stimuli arising from the expression of emotions in others.
When the happiness that arises from the sight of happiness
and the sorrow that arises from the sight of sorrow become
chief among the motives that impel us to action, then, as I
have shown, morality is in its natural or elementary stage :
to its assistance there come the more complex <levelopments
of sympathy in the shape of duty, self-i-espect, idealism.
In addition to these primary emotions and their induced
ert'ects there are others which may be called secondary emotions.
They arc complex results of the action of intellectual percep-
tions on simpler emotional states. Thus, while tlie man stand-
...L
lL instinct.
e happiness of
But we apply
' which makes
asures of their
as the capacity
nerve suscepti-
t the siffht of a
re, tlie siirht of
isure. I liave
>'in<>- that this
il relationship.
\if the pleasure
jve their pain,
which we saw
hiyher intelli-
iil of stru<;<ile
iity had thus
lave been re-
b also in the
F social sy ni-
ls possilile for
s that chaiij^es
nesH, give rise
not our only
1 is organised
to emotional
)ns in others.
■ of happiness
orrow ])ecome
on, then, as I
entary stage :
developments
leal ism.
their induced
ary emotions,
ictual percep-
e man stand-
THE NATURE OF THE EMOTIONS.
803
ing upon a ten-inch ledge over a oOO-feet precipice would feel
a sense of fear, yet the same man on the same le<]ge but securely
railed in would feel only awe as he gazed on the depth
below. Awe is thus an emotion felt when the unaided
stimulus of sense would suggest feai-, Iiut the judgment acts
as a corrective. So also when the judgment informs us that
the fear we feel is only fear of men's opinions it becomes
modesty. Similarly, fear may be transmuted to reverence,
while anger may be changed to indignation. So, too, the
action of the judgment may give to the exalting emotions of
fhe class of joy or triumpli a ii'.'w character such as pride,
Wiiich is that feeling of joy which arises from comparison of
one's self or one's possessions with other people or their
belongings. Some of our emotions arise from what I shall
call the causal instinct, that mental development which makes
us believe in the existence of causes and find a pleasure in
discovering them. In a chapter, now omitted, I had traced
the growth of that instinct through birds and mammals.
Drop unseen a few pebbles on the head of a marsupial: lu;
shakes his ears and (juietly goes on feeding. A horse under
the same circumstances soon passes into terror, but a dog will
look up, rise, iiKiuire all round, go off to seek the cause, and
exhibit great satisfaction when he finds it. In monkeys, and
still more in men, this instinct beconu's a jiowerful influence.
It gives rise to the emotional condition which we call curiosity.
That this lias a vascular basis is seen in the brightened eye,
the ([uickened pulse and invigorated brain ami muscles.
Sudden stimulation of this causal instinct gives rise to the
emotion of surprise. Sustained surprise we call wondi'r
.Mixed with pleasant feelings wonder becomes admiration ;
with unpleasant, contempt or disdain. Hut a general analysis
of secondary emotions would be beyond my scope.
NATrUE Ol- THE MoKAL TnsTINCT,
All these, and a score of other secomlary emotions, have
their jiart to play in monility. 'i'lK* awe and reverence felt
for a law-giver, the disapproliation or contempt of that which
is base, the pride which one properly feels in being of fair
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804 THE OEIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
repute among men, those emotional states tnat are bound up
in the love of the beautiful, in the sense of the heroic, and all
other such complex interplay of emotion and judgment, have
their share in the composition of that still more complicated
emotional effect which we call morality.
The intellect has its own subordinate part to play in
morality. It may compare together emotional states and
weigh their prospective results. The man filled with anger
against his disobedient son, yet sensible of the emotion of
paternal tenderness, may deliberate and give to his judgment
some share in the decision. But in the main the effect will
be the result of his emotional capacities. If he is easily
roused to anger, he will gratify his resentment ; if he be
naturally tender-hearted, pitiful, and affectionate, he will
forgive.
Amid the conflicting play of emotions, there has grown
up in social animals an instinct which on the whole gives the
prefercmce to those emotions that are beneficial to the com-
munity. Instinctivel}^ we endeavour to suppress our anger
and its manifestations ; instinctively we encourage our con-
jugal love, our patriotism and our philanthropy. And these
preferences arise, not from any free-will of our own, but
from our inherited natures. For in the stress of competition
there has always been, as we have seen, a certain tendency
for the sympathetic strains to survive : and not only will the
survivors exhibit an increasing insiinct of suppressing the
hurtful and encouraging the beneficial emotions in themselves,
but by their applause and blame they will act upon the
sympathies of those around them so as to increase in them
also the same instinctive feeling. The triumph of the moral
instinct appears whenever the selfish emotion thus gives way
before the sympath(.>tic, that is, whenever the emotion which
makes for self-preservation gives way before other emotions
which are subservient to the good of the race.
T/ic vnirnl insfinet, therefore, is, in soeinl animids, the
renUlt of that selertive process nniong the emotions which
tends to eiicoti ra(/r those that are mutuidly heljifiU, and to
■ireakev thoso that ore miitiuilly harmful.
The primary emotions wore all develoi)od for the pre-
U INSTINCT,
1 are bound up
heroic, and all
Lidgnient, have
■e complicated
rt to play in
ml states and
ed with anger
le emotion of
his judgment
the efiect will
t he is easily
ent ; if he be
nate, he will
re has grown
hole gives the
il to the com-
ess our anger
rage our con-
/■. And these
our own, but
if competition
tain tendency
I only will the
ppressing the
in themselves,
ict upon the
I'ease in them
of the moral
lus gives way
motion which
ther emotions
avivKiliii, the
<tfion,s ivhich
IpfiU, and to
for tlie pre-
i
THE NATt'RE OF THE EMOTIONS.
305
servat.on of the individual : the in.luced or syn.pathetic
emotions were .leveloped so that each individual mi..ht
contribute his share to the preservation of tlu^ her.l'or
community These two set. are bound to be m frequent op-
position, and it is the duty of practical ethics to .letermine
a reasonable compromise I.etween them. My sympathetic
emo lons may tempt me to empty out all my mon'ey into the
hands of suffering men and women. My primary emotions
bid me keep some for myself. It is for practical ethics to
dettvrmine how much 1 may give and how much I may keep
Ihus the moral instinct is not necessarily that which im-
pels us to act rightly. Is it ever right to be angry ? A
certain moral instinct forbids us this feeling, yet often enough
anger is right. Has it l)een right for the white man to take
possessio-i of the black man's forests in Australia i A certain
moral instmct condemns the policy and yet it was .lemon-
strabl> right. When Buddha renounced his wife, his child
and all kindred, to become a hermit and work out the redemp-
tK.ii of mankind, his acti.m was .listinctly wrong, but it had
Its origin in a moral instinct. If all men did as he the
world woul.l be worse, not better: but he acted with the
Avisli to make it better.
The moral instinct is, therefore, that which in social life
opposes and checks the operation of the self-preserving
instincts of individuals in so far as these are likely to injure
the community. Such supnre.ssion may be right or it may be
wrong: but almost always the due ethical course is one of
compromise between the two instincts. The nation which
«lullt^y.th other nations on purely sympathetic groun.ls
would be cheated an,l bulli..d out of existence. The nation
which tried to ,leal with others on purely selfish grounds, to
take all and give nothing, would soon rouse the world about
its ears, and be swept out of existence.
Multitudes of clergy would be glad to do all the good
they coul.l in their parishes with id talk of stipends: many
a poet has been fiivd nu-ivly by the hope of adding a new
charm and grace to human lile, and woahl have wished that
the ,,uestion of a living for himself and his family ha<l never
obtrude.l itself. But the purely moral or s\-mpathetic view
VOL. JI, j^Q " •■
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306 THE ORIGIN AND (JROWTH OF THE MOKAL INSTINCT.
I I
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is neither practicable nor right. In law, in politics, m com-
merce, in daily intercourse, men find only by experience that
compromise between the moral instinct and the self-pre-
serving instinct which is the wisest for all interests. In
thus using the word " moral " where it is now customary to
say "altruistic" I am conscious of reverting to early usage of
our language. But atti'uism does not express exactly what
I mean. It implies a conscious, .-sometimes even a priggi.sh
effort for the happine.ss cf others : whereas hy the moral in-
stinct I mean only that unconscious bias which is growing up
in human minds in favour of those among our emotions that
are conducive to .social happiness.
The moral instinct bids us shrink from causing the death
of a human being. The ,self-pre,serving instinct bids us kill
when killing is needful. Where is the just mean to be found i
The moral instinct bids me sutler silently under wrongs, turn
the left cheek to him who smote the right, give the blankets
from ott" my own bed to him who is perishing of cold : yield
up the sweetheart whom I passionately love and might pro-
bably win, if it appear that in wiiniing her I may break the
heart of another suitor. All these, and thousands of other
dictates of a delicate moral nature, I may not do because I
am a creature of individual instincts as well as of social
instincts : and right coiuhict consists in a reasonable com-
pi'omise I)etween their contiicting demands.
But in the present stage of develoi^meut tlie moral
instincts are always regarded as the nobler and more
admirable of the two. This is very natural and very wise.
The self-preserving instincts with their primary emotions
are of very ancient date: tliey are the most fundamentally
necessary. They are, therefore, of connnanding strength.
The moral instinct, that which rises out of the induced or
sympathetic emotions, is later in date, and is only struggling
up into a position of eijual strength. It is very far from
being fully developed : it re(iuires all possible adventitious
aids to enal)le it to cope with its older and more perfectly
developed opponent. There is, therefore, every reason why
mankind, by the assi: fance of admiration and applause, sliould
encourage the feebler of the two. The other is amply strong
J
L INSTINCT.
lolitics, m coni-
xperieiice that
I the selt'-pre-
iiiterests. In
f customary to
early usage of
i exactly what
/eu a priggish
■ the moral iii-
is growing up
emotions that
sing the deatli
ct hi (Is us kill
II to be found :'
r wrongs, turn
e the blankets
of cold : yield
nd might pro-
may break the
ands of other
do because I
I as of social
asonable com-
nt the moral
er and more
md very wise,
larv emotions
fundamentally
ling strength.
he intluced or
nly struggling
k-ery fai* from
e adventitious
more perfectly
•y reason why
pphiUSe, shuuld
s amply .strong
THE XATURK OF THE EMOTIONS. 307
enough to take care of itself: ,mly in comparatively rare
instances do men fail to l.jok after their own interests to
a reasonable extent. More frequently, very much more
tre(iuently, does it occur that they have their eyes so .a-imly
faxed on then- own interests as to forget the. existence of
other people's. Hence the Justittcation for that partiality
80 generally shown to the moral instinct, though it is not
really more essential than the other, if indeed it be e.,uallv
essential. "^
But, eventually, this artiHcial encouragement will be less
and le.ss needed. Every century, by its natural proce.ss of
elimination, makes the sympathetic emotions more an.l more
of a match for those that are exclusively self-preserving.
\\ hen they are evenly balance.l, when each man .shall con-
sider the claims of others as much as and no more than his
own, then will there be found, without laws or any other
external means of compulsory compromise, a duly blended
instinct of selfish and of moral impulses which .shall impel
with automatic precision to that which is right
NoTE.-,Suu.o tlu...e two chapt.M'.* wo.v written I Iiave l.oeon.e
a quH.n ed w.th the writin, of l-rofossor .Ian.es, wiu. n.aintainMh
During the last five years this view has bee,, rai-idlv eomi,,,. to
t H mnt among psyehoK^gists, by reason of the work done by l.ange
n D.Mimark, Mu.isterberg in Germanv an.l Ribot in Frane'e Hut
or various reasons I have kept without any alteration to n.V ,nvn
eatmentof this theory. It travels to the san.e general eo„e u"^
along a .l.fferent yet whollv eonsistent route
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CHAPTER XXIV.
RIGHT AND WRONG.
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At the outset I proposed to confine the scope of this in(|uiry
wholly to the bioloj,ne period of the world's history, and to
the life-necessities of its animated nature. I purposed to
refrain from the attempt, which is in its essence hopeless, to
affiliate the morality thus produced with principles and rules
of existence that mif,'ht presumably apply to all other worlds
and prevail with etpial force throughout a whole universe.
Nevertheless, before takinjr my leave of the subject, I shall
allow myself a little final latitude in explaining what I con-
ceive to be the relations between our human morality and
the things w iiich exist beyond the limits of our world.
For the mind of man cannot contentedly leave off an in-
quiry ab.solutely at an arliitrary mark. It cannot follow a
clue that leads some way but reaches no final point, and have
no wish to know or guess or dimly imagine what may lie
beyond. The story of ethic evolution told in these pages,
could it have been all unfolded in every detail, would yet
have been only a minnow's gulp from the waters of a Pacific.
Nay, infinitely less in proportion. There must have been a
huge before, and tliere will certainly be a mighty hereafter:
and, though we sometimes may chide (jur minds that will
insist upon travelling out in both directions into inscrutable
darkness, yet who can bid his nature be fundamentally other
than it is i
Our story begins with some reasonable degree of certainty
where the self-preserving emotions alone have sway ; what
preceded these, how life made its first appearance, men may
yet partly discover ; but there will never be any remote con-
RIGHT AND WROXG.
309
: this iiKpiiry
story, and to
! purposed to
;e hopeless, to
jles and rules
other worlds
lole universe,
ibject, I shall
J what I con-
morality and
world.
ave off an in-
nnot follow a
aint, and have
what may lie
1 these pages,
lil, would yet
rs of a Pacific,
t have been a
hty hereafter ;
inds that will
ito inscrutable
nentally other
Be of certainty
B sway ; what
iuce, men may
ly remote con-
caption of that antecedent vastness so utterly inconci-ivable.
Our story has so far ended with men in tliat imperfect (k-gree
of kindliness and goodness which we now see in tlie best of
them. But we yield sometimes of necessity to tlie fascination
of forecasting the future, and imagining how a kindness, to
us unknown, will yet prevail ; how peace and conjugal fidelity
and utter truthfulness may in a dim futurity enfold serenely
the wliole nature of man. And then what ! We peer into the
long twilight and far l)eyond it, speculating as to the prospects
enshrouded tlierein.
It is folly to hope to see them. How can we see where
there is no light wherewith to see :* On every hand our
microscopic sphere is boun.led sharply and inexorably l)y the
inconceivable. If we think back into that prenmndane"^ past
over the myriad millions of years, do we reach at last the
barrier beyond which time had no existence ? It is iucoji-
ceivable. Yet choose the other alternative. Has that bygone
time rolled on .so that if wj went back as many million years
as there are seconds in a million years ; and then as many
millions more as there are .seconds in that awful time ; so
that though we cast backwards these stupendous cycles of
more and more solemn vastness, yet we never in the least
approach a begiiming, or in truth travel back at all, seeing
that there never was beginning ? It is inconceivable to our
minds, which, cradled in the finite and sprung from the play
of needs and influences that all begin in time and end in time,
can no more grapple with such a (pxestion than a frog with
the lunar theory. The problem and our powers are wholly
incommensurable quantities.
So of the gulf that stretches in the future. Will it reach
the barrier after which there will be no more time f Most
utterly inconceivable. Yet, on the other hand, will it run
forward for ever, spinning and weaving its stupendous cycles,
of which each is nothing— nothing at all— for it carries us
no whit nearer the ending? It is all to us inconceivable.
Backward, forward, time seems to lead only to a choice of
alternatives of which either one or other seems nece.ssary, yet
each is inadmissible so far as we can comprehend.
So, too, this material universe loses itself at all the mighty
f
il
ir
ii
i ■"'
810 THE OUKilN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
bounds of the .spherical limits of our knowledge. If we shot
upwar<ls from our earth at ten times greater speed than ever
was known in rush of tram or flight of bird flying at the mad
velocity of 1000 miles an hour, ten years must pass ere we
should flit be^-oiid our sun ; a centui-y of that terrible speed
would not cany us out of our own petty little solar system,
that insignificant eddy in the ocean of the stars. Beyond
that, we sliould speed for 2,000,000 years through the
awful wastes of silence ere we should meet our nearest
neighbour in space, the flrst of the stars of Centaur, that
bright pointer of the Southern Cross. Two millions of years !
A stupendous time, older by far than human race, perhaps
oilier than all the long development of mammals on our earth.
Yet such a length of time, even at that mad pace, would
scarcely bring us to oui" nearest known neighbour. How the
years of flight would roll in billions and nniltitudes of billions
ere we should reach the last of the stars whose light attains
our telescopes ! But beyond these, what (' If we could )/ oeeed
through these depths of space as many more billions oi years
as there were seconds in the previous inconceivable time,
should we reach at length the barrier beyond which space is
not :* It is absolutely inconceivable. Yet view the alterna-
tive, tliat all this vast space is merely nothing : that universe
after universe of that appalling size succeeds and still succeeds,
so that if our flight were 1,000,000 miles a second, and we
sped for countless billions of years, we should still pass
through fresh realms and labyrinths of yet unseen stars, and
no end should ever be to worlds and constellations ! It is
inconceivable. A termination of space, space without ter-
mination, both are ecjually inconceivable ideas.
We need not travel .so far away to And our knowledge
rounded up by mutually incompatible inconceivables. What
is matter i It is that whose minute portions, known by
infei-ence and called atoms, are able by the energy of their
motions to make some sort of impingemeiit on our sen-ses.
But of what are these atoms composed > If of matter, then
we have not I'eached the real atom. But if we go on divid-
ing, shall we at length come to something that is not matter 1
It is inconceivable that the atoms should themselves be matter ;
INSTINCT.
It" we shot
lecl than ever
g at the mad
pasN er»> we
n-rible speed
;olai' system,
rs. Beyond
ihrouirh the
our nearest
entaur, tliat
)ns of years !
ace, perhaps
311 our earth,
pace, would
;•. How the
b's of billions
i<;-ht attains
juld j/.3ceed
3ns oi years
ivable time,
lich space is
the alterna-
lat universe
till succeeds,
nd, and we
I still pass
:n stars, and
ions ! It is
^'ithout ter-
knowledge
)les. What
known by
■gy of their
our senses,
natter, then
;o on divid-
iiot matter ?
3 be matter ;
RIGHT ANP WRONG.
811
yet what can those thinj^s be that move and strike with sharp
momentum, yet are not matter :' 'i'hey are to us inconceivable.
For indeed what we can conceive is nothinj,' but combinations
of sense-impinjrements. The capacity to perceive tliese. and
combine them, yrew up solely to meet the daily needs of life
in a material world. Our powers are strictly limited thereby,
and in vain do we dream of travellinjf further than our senses
or .sense-imajfininf;s will carry us.
S(j, too, of our (jwn natures, our knowledj^'e I etpially
rounded up by inconceivables. Is the nerve trenn which
runs from, eye go brain and causes a certain movement in a
certain cell — is that tiie consciousness of siijfht ! It is incon-
ceivable. Time and the inireiiuity of man may do niiieli, but
We may rest assured that they will neve." brid(;e that j;ulf.
Yet is the other alternative eipially inconceivable, that in a
man's brain there dwells an immaterial entity which is the
conscious subject. V» lien does such a thin,<;- enter the body /
From the minutest <;'erm in the ovary to the infant at birth,
no sudilen transiticjii takes place ; there is no time at which
the embryo is without what we call its soul : born at seven
months or at nine, it is the same scn-t of creature with the
sa'ue developing capacity of consciousness. And if the babe
has it, then the puppy has it also, for consciousness is eipially
its gift ; and if the puppy, then the younjr tish, and if the
young tish, then the countless swarms of insects. All possess
that consciousness which would imply a spiritual essence. Is
it true, then, that at some stage in its development every
maggot is endued with its own share of some immaterial
entity analogous to .soul ! Whence does it come :' Whither
does it go ? Wlien a few hundreds of these creatures enter
the maw of .some hungry bird, does she digest so much con-
sciousness ? It is all inconceivalile.
So on every hand are we baffled when we try to apply our
powers to the solution of problems for which they were never
made : 'as if one should use a razor to cut chilled steel, or a
microscope to view the stars. In all such speculations we are
using our intelligence, sense-created and sense-sustained as it
is, for the consideration of things that are remote from the
operation of these senses of ours with which, for the needs of
w
312 THE ORIGIN AND (JUOWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
,! tl '■
\l I
! <;
m
it
I
terre.sfci'ial life, we are endowed. It is true that tlie same «yes
which liave thrown iiuick to see the prey or avoid the danger
may also see tlie light from far-ott" stars. It is true that we
may weigh a moon by ingenious coml, 'nations of sense-
measurenuMits. These things an.' strictly conuuensurate with
our powers, and men have yet stores of triumphs of tiiat sort
for their future gratification. But the wider pro])lcnis of
space and time, of matter and consciousiifss, and so forth, are
incapal)le of solution by intelligence made for action in a
wholly ditl'erent province.
Even so far beyond the scope of our attack is tlie problem
of the soul of the universe. Is this wide framework of suns
and systems self-begotten and self-regulated i Ov has it per-
sisted from an infinite j^ast ? Will it go on spinning out its
endless yet aimless circles to all eternity ? And when the
last man shall have perished from oti" this chilling globe, will
other men appear on other globes, tilling a space of time with
their transitory fears, and hopes, and loves, working up
through equally painful seons of lust, brutality, and en-
deavour, so as to approach perfection, but only to be swept
likewise into that gulf of nothingness that has swallowed
their numberless predecessors ! Will they in tiny patches
here and there through all the intricately whirling systems
spring up and pass away, each unwitting of all others ^ Will
sphere after sphere adorn itself Avith beauty, till itself with
life and fond affections, to pass away and none in all the
universe be conscious that such things were ^ It is all incon-
ceivable.
Yet, on the other hand, what ? If the universe has had its
maker, who made that maker f Or is the maker without
beginning and without end / It may be so, but to the mind of
man such a being is inconceivable. Not therefore non-existent,
but as much outside the scope of our comprehension as is the
end of space or the beginning of time. And if this being,
creator and sustainer, exists, what is meant by asserting that
he knows, or sees, or hears ^ What possible idea can there be
in talking of hearing without ears, seeing without eyes, and
knowing without a brain 1 With us, knowing is the result of
learning, but how could a spirit that made all things learn
NSTINCT.
e same eyes
the (lanwr
[•III' that we
S (tf Sl'IlSL'-
surate with
of that sort
)rol)k'ius of
io forth, are
action in a
he problem
ork of suns
■ has it per-
liiii;- out its
I wlien the
j^'lohe, will
:' time with
^orkiiio- up
', and en-
o be swept
swallowed
ny patches
ng systems
lers ? Will
itself with
in all the
■> all incou-
has had its
er without
he mind of
m-existent,
m as is the
this being,
erting that
m there be
; eyes, and
le result of
lings learn
RIGHT AM* WRONG.
313
anything { All oui- conceptions of knowledge, comprehension,
or thought are absolutely inapplicable to a being that has
never grown up in the mi.lst of sunse attl-etions, and whose
powers are not nurtured by sense experiences.
But we believe that space exists, that tim.- .'xists. that
matter exists, that consciousness exists, though of each the
actual nature is not only unknown, but utterly incomprehen-
sible to us. So, too, though h'ss cogently, "as being m:)re
remote from sense intimati(jns, we may believe that one all-
explaining existence underlies the universe, in essence incon-
ceivable, yet not less real than these other inconceivables,
space and time, matter and consciousness.
For we move in a worl.l known only to us in sviubols.
The colours are not in the Howers, but' only in our'minds;
that crimson light which comes from the rose is only ether-
vibrations of comparatively large wave-length. But ether
itself and its vibrations are conceivable to us only as sight or
touch sensations can make them known. It is an old "truth
now-a-days that we have no conception of colours or sounds
or indeed aught else in itself, Init <^nly of the change in our
consciousness caused, as we presume, by things outside us.
Spinoza said two centuries ago, " The ideas we have of ex-
teriial things proclaim rather the constitution of our own
bodies than the nature of external bodies". (Ethirs, ii., 16.)
Locke wrought upon the same elementary idea, which' physics
and physiology have now between them placed on a basis so
unassailable. What we think the v.-orld around us to be is
only the symbolic interpretation of our own consciousness.
As the deaf man never knows the spoken word, but only the
visual symbol that stands for it: as the blind man never
knows what a cloud looks like, though he may daily use the
spoken word that is its symbol, so we too use our conscious
symbols of colour and sound, of touch and taste and smell,
without the slightest possibility of ever knowing the thing.s
in themselves.
And yet the man who reaches this ultimate conclusion is
wise if he never sutlers it to atlect his daily outlook over the
world. If it should so happen, if he should permanently and
at every moment feel as if
1?
; f ■
ll
I
ill
k
i: r
\j
!i,'[
I I
ai4 THE OKKilX AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
tSeciiiiiig to iiiovf ;imoii<; a world of ghosts,
Feeling himself t ho sliiulow of a ilreani,
his mental condition would grow morbid. He would be
deprived of all that liealthful animal life which i.s tlie ab.solute
foundation of successful existence in this worhl. The intro-
spective and persistently (iue.stioning Hamlets make on the
whole poor citizens.
Thus, thou<;'li the healthful man may feel that the view
he enjoys from the summit of the hill is in so far illusory that
all he can know of it is a certain co-operation of sense stinuili
actinj;- upon his own consciousness, yet he will gaze with
.lelight upon it none the less. He will frankly and un-
reservedly enjoy the descants of the woodland birds, though
he cainiot for the life of him tell why one succession of
vibratory movements in tlie air should ravish his soul more
than another. Freely and cheerfully to accept the conditions
of his nature and receive as truth the import of his senses, is
the only wise condition of the healthful man.
And all that is true of the intellectual side of our nature
applies with eijual force to the emotional. A man may know
how foolish it is to shudder at the cold scaly folds of the
serpent, while he grows pleased with the atiectionate fondling
of a kindly dog. Why should he hate the one and love the
other ? Each works out its own nature : it cannot be other
than it is : and the serpent is no more deadly to men than a
dog is to rabbits. But inasnuich as he is a man, he hates
sei-jjents and he likes dogs. He hates a cannibal, yet to his
wife he passes a slice of mutton. At bottom the difference, as
he may perceive, is one of mere sentiment. As an absolute
cosmic fact it is difficult to see how one can be so purel}-
innocent if the other is so hatefully cruel. But then it is not
his business to work among absolute cosmic facts. He does
much better to love liis wife, though a little meat be useful
for her health, and to abhor the cannibal, though he knows
that savages must needs act as their traditions and customs
have taught them.
Our emotions make for us, as much as our sensations, the
universe in which we live. How the earth shines to the
accepted lover ! How black as deepest midnight to him when
INSTINCT.
DS,
He would be
,s the alxsolute
1. The iiitro-
luake on the
;hat the view
I- iUusory tluit
' sense stimuli
ill ga/.e witli
ikly and un-
birds, though
succession of
his soul more
the conditions
:' his senses, is
of our nature
lan may know
■ folds of the
anate fondling
e and love the
innot be other
to men than a
man, he hates
ibal, yet to his
e diflierence, as
L8 an absolute
be so purely
t then it is not
lets. He does
neat be useful
ugh he knows
s and customs
sensations, the
shines to the
it to him when
RIGHT AND WH()N(i.
315
suddenly jilted : How sweet is life to the young mother as
she gathers in both hands the rosy cheeks of liei- infant, and
.st(jops to kiss its puckered lips ! How bitter, how hateful,
when she casts herself to sob upon its new-made grave ! Yet
they are still the same old world, the same old life.
A gaol is one place to a man when he goes to see it as a
curious visitor, another when he hears the gates close behind
him on a ten years' sentence. The twenty-mile march of the
soldier moving hopefully on to victc^y is an utterly ditierent
stretch when later on he wearily traverses it in disasti'ous
retreat. How different seems the home of his early childhood
to the man who returns to it after sixty years !
>So on all hands, sensatiims and emotions build up for us
the symbols which are all we know of this miiver.s»! we dwell
in. Even .so, our conceptions of right and wrong are tlnis con-
structed for us by that class o\' contagious emotions which we
call our .sympathies. Now these have grown up, as we have
seen, .solely out of .social needs. The social animal was the
succe.ssful ainmal, and man him.self prevailed more and more
in proportion as he became increasingly social ; that is, more
capable of a delicate .sympathy. Thus, on an ultimate
analj-sis, right and wrong are not things tliat we can Justly
predicate beyond the bounds of human nature. We can
scarce apply them at all in the case of the lowest animals : nor
could we apply them in the case of angelic beings who should
have no need to propagate by sexual union, who should be
incapable of being killed, or hurt, or deceived.
But we are bound by the necessities of our nature to pro-
ject our subjective feelings out from ourselves, and make of
them the objective universe in which we dwell. That green
colour which is only in our consciousness we stubbornly see in
the trees and grass around us. That rii)pling nmsic which
has no existence till its vibrations pass into our l)rains we
persist in hearing as though in the clieerful brooklet. So in
regard to moral feelings. Though actions are neither good
nor bad in them.selves, but only begin to be .so in our conception
of their relatiims to social needs, yet these conce])tions of ours
are projected into them as we project our sensations of red into
the rose, and of discord into the proce.ss of saw-sharpening.
ii
31G THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
-I •: i
V I
If a man and woman are to propa<i-att! their race, it makes
no sort of inherent ditterence in the act whether or not they
have Hrst made certain promises and transferred a rin<;'. But
in our conceptions of tlie act, and its rehition to the interests
of societ}', there is a world of diti'erence : and we project tliese
conceptions of ours into tlie act itself, just as we project into
the su^far that sweetness which exists nowhere but in our
own consciousness.
There are those wdio would condenni all such reliance
upon emotional feelinj^-, and make it their first principle to trust
only in their intellects, i'oro-ettiny that the world built up for
us by intellect is in eveiy way as illusory as that built up for
us by our emotions. Why, one will ask, should a man love
the country he happens to have been born in better than
another country ^ Why should he love his (nvn chiltU'en
more than the chihh-en of his nei<i;hbour f His country is
nuich the same in itself as other countries: his children are,
as a matter of bare fact, nnich the same as other children.
But then, we reply, they are not so tcj him. He looks upon
them with an emotional nature, and he projects into them the
contents of his own emotional consciousness. He has the
same reason for believinjf them to l)e different that he has for
tindin<f honey sweet and vine<;ar sour ; for he feels that tliey
differently affect his consciousness. The man who condemns
the illusions of the emotions liecause he has tried them liy the
test of intelliji'ence and found them to fail, most certaiidy for-
gets that that intelligence itself, if sinn'larly tested in its turn,
would pi-ove to be e(iually illusive.
But just as in a healthful relationship with tlie world
around us, we must accept our intellectual instincts as
genuine, must dwell amii' space and time, colour and sound,
taste and touch, as if these were things existing outside of us
as we conceive them to be in our minds, so must we acce]it
our emotional intuitions as ecjually valid. We are at liberty
to love our wives, revel in tl\e first affectionate syllables of
our baVies, cheer lustily at the name of fatherland, though
cold analysis explains that wife and babe and fatherland are
like other wives, other babes, other fatherlands.
So also, on an ultimate analysis, we may conclude witli
L INSTINCT.
' race, it makes
ler or not they
:(l a rini;'. But
,o the interests
e project tliese
tve project into
sre but in our
sncli reliance
i-inciple to trust
•1(1 built up for
lat built up for
luld a man love
m better than
own childivn
iis country is
is children are,
other clnldren.
He looks upon
^ into them the
. He has the
that he has for
feels that they
who condemns
ed them by the
it certainlj' for-
sted in its turn,
,'ith the world
il instincts as
oiir and sountl,
ii;- outside of us
must we accept
e are at liberty
ivte syllables of
nirland, though
1 fatherland are
s.
conclude with
lUGHT AND WRONG.
317
Spinoza {Ethicn, iv., definition i.) that "<>-ood is that which
we know for certain to be useful ". But this is only iJiat
form wliieh is assumed by the truth when we strip it to
its physical and physiological bareness ; professini>-, thoui^'h
wrongly professing, to get t(j the root of things. As a matter
of simple fact, goodness as we perceive it, is an utterly
ilitferent conception : and, as it appeals to our consciousness,
so must it seem to us to be in fact. In London the Laplander
might say, " What a warm day it is ! " the Hindoo, " How
miserably cold 1 " Each statement is true relatively to the
nerves of the speaker, and none but a fool could think of
incpiiring for the alisolute fact as to whether it was really
warm or cold. Each man projects his own sensations out
into the weather, and denominates it accordingly. And
the wisest of men can ilo no more. It may be a useful
thing once in a while to remember th"t there is no such
thing as a sky above us, that the blue we see is due only
to the superior power of penetration bidonging to the
ouicker ethereal vibrations, but for all the practical pur-
poses of life there is a sky above us ; and as we see it,
so do we feel it and speak of it. The philosopher might
at the dinner-table nuike himself a bore by incessantly
explaining how none of the dishes had really the tastes which
the guests perceived in them, nor any of the decorative
flowers the colours wherewith they seemed to be endowed.
People with a hearty appetite and a love for flowers
will go on enjoying savours, flavours, scents and tints ;
the illusoriness of all things is a fact with which we are
only remotely and seldom concerned ; we go on living our
lives in a healthy satisfaction that the things about us are in
very fact what we conceive them to be.
Even so real, tlierefore, as aught else we know, an^ those
conception^) of right and wrong which we project from oar
minds up into the universe of space to be therein perceived as
solenui and immutable principles. What is a murderer (' In
himself only a being who has acted out inevitably the nature
wherewith he was born. But we are very little concerned
with what things are in themselves. To us he is a l)eing
whose touch or aspect would cause us an involuntary sluKider;
!'■• ^
ill
in
i-J
■ 3 ■ I.
t'. ' i
I
1 1 ' 1 1
H
' ,1
318 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
and for all practical purposes the latter is the real, the former
the fantastic view.
When we sit eiu-aptured by a symphony, what thou^di the
mathematician insists with son e sort of truth on his side, that
there is nothinj>' there V)ut air vibrations of duly fitted propor-
tions in .:peed, stren^'th, and duration ! He has still to explain
to ns what air or any other matter may be and what the actual
nature of a vibration is. He can i^et no way near the heart of
any objective truth. As for us we may say : " The composer
has created a delij^htful succession of harmonies ; these to us
are no wave vi]:)rations, they are soul-felt nuisic ".
So when we read the story of .some devoted martyi" of old,
who suffered and died for his lofty ideal of rifjht or duty, a
cold analysis, such as tills the major part of this book, will tell
us that certain nerve-developments were in his case subtle
and delicate. He, too, acted out a nati-i-e which lie neither
made nor mended. We are entitled to reply that such a view
is useful once in a way, but camiot be our permanent or prac-
tical belief. We do not know what any man in himself may be,
nor do we know the essential nature of his acts or his motives.
What we do actually know is our own mental state produceil
])y certain stimuli proceeding' in indirect channels from that
man and his act. Now in that mental state we find indi.s-
.solubly connected with our idea of the act, the emotions of
admiration and enthusiasm. The.se are as real, and have as
tan^il)le an existence as our sensations, actual or remembered,
of the man and his action.
In short, all our emotional intuitions havt' precisely the
same ground of validity as oin* intellectual : none at all if
suppt)sed to represent external thiiif^s as they actually exist
in themselves; yet worthy of all reliance as being an hite^ral
and e.ssential part of that consciousness which somehow de-
pends on external thinj^-s, and forms for us oui" only possible
conception of what these things may be.
That sense of space which we and our ancestors have
derived first from the iise of oui- arm-muscles, then fi m the
use of our nnisclcs of loeoinntion, lastlv V>v correlatiu"' with
tliese the focu.ssiiif; muscles of our eye, is pi-qjected by us out
into starry space. We have no misgivinj^s in applying our
AL INSTINCT.
real, the former
vluit tlioiifrh the
on his side, tluit
ly fitted propor-
M still to explain
what the actual
lear the heart of
" The composer
lies ; these to u.s
ic .
1 martyr of old,
rij^ht or duty, a
is book, will tell
his case subtle
hich lie neither
hat such a view
iiianent or prac-
himself may be,
s or his motives.
state produced
nnels from that
we Mnd indis-
bhe emotions of
il, and have as
or remembered,
^e precisely the
none at all if
y actually exist
ein^r an intei^ral
h .somehow de-
U" only possible
ancestors have
1, then fi m the
?orrelatiu"" with
ected by us out
n applying ovu"
RIGHT AST) WRONG.
819
sense of sif,dit to the measurement of stellar distances. Per-
haps all an illusion. But if so, it is an illusion in harmony
with all other illusions, and an addition to the sum total of
the only sort of knowledoje attainable by us.
So, also, we project out from us our emotional feelinf,'.s. If
we have learnt to scorn a base action, we feel that the same
attitude must characterise the rifrht mind wherever it is
found throughout the universe. Perhaps an illusion : But
subjectively to us it is the only possible truth. It is therefore
that we can have no reason whatever to ipiarrel with that
sense of ineffable comfort which human hearts tlerive from a
feeling of union with and dependence upon some universal
power subsisting at the centre of all things. A knowledge of
what that power may be in its actual e.ssence is as much
denied us as is a knowledge of anything else in its true .self.
We have an intuition that there nuist be something in the
nature of nuitter which can affect us with sensations of sight
aiid touch and taste. We have an intuition that there nnist
■>► .something in the nature of consciousness within us to l)e so
affected. And if we have an intuition that there mast be a
power in the universe to account for worlds and motions, for
ourselves and all things, that intuition, as it seems to me, is of
the same order of cogency. Each is an intuition of causation;
not one of them is capable of the faintest demonstration,
because the, matters dealt with ai-e in all three cases etjually
beyond the bounds of our faculties.
Moreover, to this all-explaining iiiHuence, man, l)y a health-
ful impulse, attributes the best (lualities of which he can form
a conception. Of course they bear n(; po.ssible relationship to
the truth, any iuore than our sen.sation of warmth does tn the
dance of atoms which is heat. But, as in the case of all other
knowledge, it is (mr subjective conception of an objective
truth whiolj we cannot really know. The best of men, though
conscious that he would willingly lay down his life in the
cause of honesty, must needs feel that he is by no means the
most honest of possible being.s. The probability is infinite
indeed that better than he somewhere exists, if not in this
worl<l, at any rate in some one or other o\' the multitudinous
worlds that make the atoms of an ocean of space. If sucli
,'v^
1*^
IP? :>
1 1 J 'I-
i ^!
Pi
if
i., t :
3-20 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINCT.
exi.st, lie must, accordiiif^- to our instincts, be accounted for
in tluit all-explaining principle.
A healthful moral nature is, therefore, vaguely impelled to
project its owr. highest ideals out into its conception of that
principle. Therein it sees justice, truth and kindness: though
on a cold analysis it could give no valid description of what
these could possibly mean in an onniipresent and incorporeal
being, and indeed knows that an infinite being must be in-
capable of emotions. For every emotion, as I have striven
to show, lias its basis in vascular changes, and has arisen
only for the preservation of aninmls. But he who objects to
this projection of our moral feelings out into the realms of
space must object to all our knowledge which is everywhere
of the same symbolic nature.
'J'huH, in our ilaily lives, right and wrong must seem ex-
ternally existent principles. We have seen how the con-
ceptions grew : we know that they have yet to grow.
Similarly we may trace the growth of the sense of sight:
we know it is yet increasing in delicacy. That does not
make us grow sceptical as to the real existence of green
trees and white clouds. Neither will it shake our prac-
tical belief in the existence of external standards of right
and wrong though it be proven that a moral sense has gi'own
within us, as eyes have developed in our heads. How-
ever the feeling may ha\e grown, brutal lust will still
seem in itself foul and hateful : cold-blooded murder will be
abhorrent : meanness, lying, treacheiy, will be in their essen-
tial natures ugly things. On the other hand, we will look
forth on a universe urged onward to nobler things under
guidance of that Panenergic Principle, to which we shall still
ascx'ibe the highest ideal our conceptions shall have reached.
Nor does this somewhat cold comfort form the limit of
what is reast)nal)ie. If it be true that the conception of the
universe formed for us by onv emotions is in its own way as
faithful as that formed by our intellectual perceptions, then
we may go much further. The child left to fall asleep by
itself in the great lonely, rambling mansion hears strange
sounds in the long corridors ; with beating heart and choking
,s()l)s it hides its face away from the darkness. What though
4
L INSTINCT,
accounted f'oi'
lely impelled to
ception of that
idiK'SH : though
•iption of what
iiid incorporeal
tig must be in-
I have striven
md ha.s arisen
who objects to
the j'i'alms of
is everywhere
must seem ex-
how the con-
yet to grow,
sense of sight :
That does not
itence of green
ake our prac-
dards of right
inse has grown
beads. How-
lust will still
murder will be
in their essen-
[, we will look
L' things under
1 we shall still
have reached,
in the limit of
iception of the
its own way as
irceptions, then
fall asleep by
hears strange
rt and chokitig
What though
niGHT AND WRONG.
821
some one come and reason that there is no danger' But if
only the mother goes to sit in silence by the be.lside • if the
c ul.l can but grasp her by the han.l: if he can only nestle his
cheek on the pillow in a fol.l of her loving arm, all fears an.l
sobs are forgotten. Little .loes the child care thou.-h the
mother be slender and weak against possible .hinged Its
heart is satished, and ail things seem secure ami<l that restful
emotion.
Poor feeble race of man, here inhabiting your cjuunber
remote and lonely in the awful realms of twilight space '
What eerie voids lie between you an.l y„ur nearest nei.di-
bours. Aiul these neighl,ours, what utter strangers to you
they are I Down those vast interstellar corridors, how chill
how remote, how cheerless, how mysterious, all extends ' If
your heart conceives a satisfaction in a soul of sympathy ever
watchful, ever kind, who shall chi.le you for being .symbolic
in that as in all else you know ^ If you yearn for loving
touch : it taint and far you seem to hear the whisper of a
riendly voice, to you it is as real as the mother's protection
to the child. And if there comes to you the man who scorns
your emotional intuitions, priding him.self that his beliefs are
everywhere founded on the solid rock of intellect, tell him
that your conceptions come a.i near the basis of philosophic
truth as ever his can come.
^ It is true-no doubt that each must live after his kind—the
hsh to the water, the bird to the air, the beast to the land
.None can overstep the limits of his nature. And the man
witJi little emotional capacity vn\l dwell in that universe
winch sensations, and conceptions formed of combine.! sensa-
tions, alone can furnish him : the man of emotional tem-
perament will find his heart ever feeling outwanl for
love and comnumion, as the chil.l's fingers in the darkness
feel outward for the mother's han.l. 80 .Iocs the empty
vastness ])econie for him no more the wearv waste of .Insola-
tion. Illusion perhaps : 80 also are the trees an.l the rocks
rinther also he projects his moral ser.se, and sees therein
t ... source of all that is right and pure. If he cultivate the
philosophic mill, I, he will at tinn-s recall the fact that this is
but symbolic: that he frames hi.s concept!.).! of a univer,se
VOL. II, 21
m
I I,'
i:
If t
\H
I, .'•
iir
322 THE ORIGIN AND GROWTH OF THE MORAL INSTINC*!.
utterly inconiinensurate with his powers, out of the mental
and moral jrrowths that have sprung from and for these small
earth-limited needs. It is all too true ! But the solid earth
we tread is, in so far as we conceive it, only a collection of
sense-symbols whose truth must be some utterly unknown
play of inconceivable atoms that are a sort of disembodied
energy. So, when he feels vvith Shelley that in the rirmament
Tlie One remains, the many change and pass,
he may not, he cannot, know in the remotest degree the
nature of that One, yet is he wise to lose not a jot of his
practical faith in the solid earth beneath him or the comfort
of the Pantachontic around him. His eye, or the consciousness
behind it, clothes the one with all glories of verdure and sun-
set glow, thereto transforming mere ether-waves ; so does the
moral zeal of his consciousness clothe the power which lie
conceives to live and move in all things with its own utter-
most conceptions of good.
In short, though we have in this book traced from its
humble origin the growth of our conception of right and
wrong: though we have found it to be entirely relative to
ourselves, our needs, and our capacities : though we have si'en
it to be in every respect earth-born, we are nevertheless nut
in the least degree precluiled from utilising the ideas thus
derived to help us in framing for ourselves our worthiest
symbolic conception of the universe. All our other i<leas are
so derived, all are equally unreal as the statement of ultimate
fact, all equally real as being our be.st attainable symliols for
things we know to be really existent. Thus are we justified
in projecting out from us into starry space oui- best concep-
tions of moral beauty, and seeing tliem there as enduring
principles with an objective existence. In that Hitting dream
which we call our life — in that long presentment of appear-
ances rarely felt to be only appearances, because so seldom
capable of being tested, and never capable of being set along-
side of the truth — among all the pliantasms which the healthy
mind frankly accepts as facts, because of the invisible facts
which they symbolise, we must number not only our con-
INSTINC*r.
[ the mental
ir these small
3 solid earth
collection of
ly unknown
(lisemboilied
le tirmameiit
,ss,
b (lejfree the
a jot of his
f the comfort
3onscioiisness
[ure and sun-
; so does the
'er which he
ts own utter-
ced from its
jf rij;-ht and
y relative to
we have si'en
'ertheless not
le ideas thns
inr worthiest
ther ideas are
it of ultimate
; symbols for
13 Vv'c justitied
• best concep-
as endurin^^
fitting ilream
lit of appear-
ise so seldom
ing set alon<;'-
■h the healthy
nvisible facts
jnly our con-
EIGHT AND ^VRONG.
323
cepts ot matter and of consciousness, but those of goodness and
o wickedness as actually existent verities. So wh'^en our mood
ot sceptic sorrow ,s passed away because phenou.ena are not
r ahties we return to the hearty, practical, common-sense view
of mankmd ; true, moreover, as far as aught we know is true ;
rtltTnrTH'' ""^""'^^*^°"^' P""«'Ples our canons of the
right and of the wrong as Goethe did,
In name of him, who still, though often named,
Kemains in essence, ever unprociaimed.
Kight and wrong dwell out in the everlasting hea-ens
even as beauty dwells in a graceful woman, as coolness dwells
m the clear spring water, as glorious colour dwells in the
tropic sunset, as vastness dwells in the ocean-things not so
in themselves, but ever and inherently so to our natures
It
mil' i
IS (.
,J
liitilj]
1 :■
i M
1 :;i
|.: >M
INDEX,
Abii'onks, I., 105.
Abortion, I., 114, 117, 181, 141.
Abyssinians, I., 106, 886, 898.
Acceleration of liatcliing, I., 71.
Accipitres, I., 311.
Acrobates, I., "^8.
Addison's disease, II., 283.
Esthetic pleasure, II., 84.
Afghans, I., 107, 244, 260; II., 16G.
Agassiz, I., 87; II., 229.
Age at marr'age, I., 140.
Aged put t- deatli, I., 874, 394, 398.
Agincourt, I., 455.
Ainus of Japan, I., 104, 112, 178.
Akka pygmies, I., 103, 238, 349.
Alcoliol, II., IOC, 269.
Alcock, I.. 87.
Alomanni, II., 179.
Aleuts, I., 105.
Alexander the Great, I., 439.
Alfred, laws of, II., 179.
Algerines, I., t.j,
Allen, Prof., Ii., 256.
Alligator, I., 49.
Almsgiving, I., 400, 412.
Alytes obstetricans, I., 45.
Amatory emotion, II., 260.
Amblyopsis, I., 87.
American Civil War, I., 459.
Amphibia, I., 42.
Anableps, I., 37.
Analysis of moral feeling, II., 22.
Anamese, I., 107, 144.
Anciennes Lois des Prancais, I., 251.
282. V . , ,
Andaman Islanders, I., 97, 103, 111,
174, 177, 349, 370, 429.
Anderssou, I., CO, 90, 164, 303, 324,
327.
Anger, II., 211, 290.
Anglo-Saxon marriages, I., 252.
Anomalies of emotion, II., 294.
Anseres, I., 58, 62, 305.
Antennarius, I., 34.
Ants, I., 294.
Anubis baboon, I., 343.
Apes, T,,04, 173, 044.
Aphestic responsibility, II., I;j9.
Apter>'x, I., 57, 59, 60.
Apuleius, I., 137.
Arabs, nomad, I., 106, 132, 215, 245,
357, 390.
Arabs, settled, I., 107, 130, 224, 245,
259, 435; II., 131.
Araucanians, I., 105, 119.
Arawaks, I., 105.
Arbitration, I., 165.
Areois of Tahiti, I., 212.
Aristogeny, I., 29.
Aristotle, I., 133, 219, 220, 271, 405;
II., 98, 165, 202.
Arius, I., 32.
Army surgeons, I., 459.
Aryan jealousy, I., 132.
Aspredo, I., 31.
Assize of Jeiisalem, I., 281 ; II., 183,
As.syrians, I., 107, 386, 437.
Asthmatics, moods of, II., 276.
Asylums, I., 417, 421.
Ateles, I., 387.
Audubon, I., 67, 166, 169, 306, 307,
318, 315.
Aurelian, I., 446.
Australians, I., 97, 98, 104, 114, 179,
194, 199, 256, 350, 375.
Awe, II., 43, ,803.
Aztecs, I., 131.
Baboons, L, 341 ; II., 261.
Babylonians, I., 107, 437.
Bachofen, I., 18(;
Baer, Von, law of, I., 29, 67, 85 ; II.,
251.
Bagrus, I., 32.
Bain, Prof., II., 18, 27, 265.
Baird, Prof., I., 21.
Baker, Sir Samuel, I., 343.
Balance of births and deaths, I., 26.
Balfour, Prof. F. M., I., 89, 43, 75, 80,
ol.
Baluclis, I., 100, 435.
Bancroft, H. H., I., 118, 1:31, 151, 183,
201, 288, 390.
Barbarians, I., 105, 361.
Barbarian laws, II., 129, 168.
Barrow on Bushmen, I., 104.
Bartlett, A. D., I., 69.
Basutos, I., 105.
Bastian, Dr., I., 37, 223 ; II., 229, 233,
IS
!
t '
326
INDEX.
i '4
■ '■
1
Bat, I., 81, 321.
Batchelor, A. E., I., 112, 178.
Bates, H. W., I., 47, 49, 177, 337, 339,
350, 371.
Batraclius tau, I., 35.
Battaks of Sumatra, I., 105.
Beale, T., ou whales, I., 86, 323.
Beaumanoir, I., 452; II., 172.
Beauty, sense of, II., 85.
„ moral, I., 13; II., 78.
Beaver, I., 87, 321.
Bechuanas, I., 97, 105.
Beddard, F. E., I., 80.
Bedouins, I., 180, 225, 435.
Bee, 1., 295; II., 242.
Beena marriages, I., 225.
Beerbolim, I., GO.
Belideus, I., 78.
Bell, I'rof., I., 49, 322.
Belt, I., 298.
Beneftcpnce, I., 414.
Benevolence, I., 11 ; II., 22.
Bensusan, M., I., 395.
Bentham, Jeremy, II., 14G, 148.
Bernard, Claude, II., 257.
Biaras of New Britain, I., 105.
Bichat, M. P., II., 222.
Bigandet, Bishop, I., 269; II., 14.
Billah tribes, I., 105.
Bird, Miss, I., 262.
Birds, temperature of, II., 253.
,, without parental care, I., 58.
,, conjugal feeling of, I., 166.
,, social instincts of, I., .304.
,, parental care of, I., 4.
Birth rates, I., 109, 148.
Biziura lobata, I., 310.
Bheels of India, I., 105.
Bhutans of India, I., 107.
Black Prince, I., 70.
Blackstone, I , 276, 285.
Blanchere, I., 25.
Blaudford, I., 90, 105, 342.
Blenny, I., 37.
Blood-money, II., 164.
Blood, sight\)f, II., 300.
Blue fish, I., 21.
Blunt, Lady, I., 130.
Bock, Karl," I., 94, 98, 128, 264, 401.
Bogisic, Prof., II., 130.
Bonwick, James, I., 122, 179.
Boulenger, G. A., I., .32, 33, 50.
Bowditch, Prof., II., 221.
Bower-birds, I., 168.
Bradford, J. R., II,, 294.
Bradley, John, 1., 177.
Bralimiuism, I., 268.
Brain injuries, II., 106.
,, of shark, I., 37.
Brank for women, I., 287.
Brazilian tribes, I., 116, 173, 3i30, 374,
429; II., 162.
Braeding temperatures, II., 243.
Brehm's Tierloben, I., 43, 45, 46, 49,
52, 58, 60, 77, 95, 161, 102, 109, 170,
171, 300, .307, 312, 315, 317, 318, 321,
327, 329, 333, 337, 339, 341; II.,
261.
Brett, Rev. Mr., I., 116, 178, 194.
Brodie, Sir Benj., II., 112.
Brood-pouches in frogs, I., 44.
Brooke, Rajah, I., 94, S8i: II., 163.
Brother-oath, I., 355.
Brown, Dr. Robert, I., 98.
Brunton Lauder, II., 269, 291.
Biichner, I.. 298.
Buckland, Frank, I., 25.
Buckle, H. T., I., 131, 414, 459; II.,
254.
Buddha, I., 269 ; II., 14, 29.
Buddhist charity, I., 400.
Budge, II., 257.
BuUer, Sir W., I., 59, 60.
]5ullfinch, I., 313.
Burchell, II., 3.3.
Burdett on hospitals, I., 411.
Burghers, I., 454.
Burmese, I., 264, 401 ; II., 35.
Burrowing birds, I., 66.
Burton, Sir R., I., 354, 393.
Bushmen, I., 97, 103, 112, 176, 349,
370, 428; II., 163.
Cecilia, L, 43.
Ciesar, L, 446; II., 170.
Calder, J. E., I., 122, 178.
California'] tribes, I., 105.
Callichth\>^, I., 34.
Callithrix, f., 338.
Callorhynchus, I., 38.
Callosities on monkeys, II., 261.
Cambodians, I., 107.
Campbell, A. J., I., 66.
Campbell, Dr. H., I., 288; II., 276.
Cannibalism, I., 371, 387.
Canute, I., 230.
Capture of wives, I., 196.
Carcharias, I., 39.
Caribs, I., 178; II., 162.
('arinatie, I., 57, 58.
Carnivores, I., 90, 328.
,, placenta of, I., 88.
Carpenter's Physiology, II., 260, 269.
Carthaginians, I., 107.
Casalis, I., 176, 349.
Casati, Major, I., 327.
Cassowaries, I., 60.
Catlin, Ge.,., I., 123, 376.
Cattle, sympathy of, I., 323.
Cato, I., 227; 11, 73.
Cavy, I., 320.
Cebidee, I., 92, .387.
Cebua, I., 339.
Celibacy, I., Ill, 149.
INDEX.
327
es, II., 243.
:., 43, 45, 46, 49,
81, 1C2, 1G9, 170,
U5, 317, 318, 321,
, 339, 341; II.,
16, 178, 194.
, 112.
58, I., 44.
, 384 ; II., 163.
.,98.
269, 291.
25.
1, 414, 459; XL,
14, 29.
400.
00.
I., 411.
; XL, 35.
;c.
1, 393.
1, 112. 17G, 349,
ro.
178.
105.
s, XX., 261.
288; II., 276.
387.
96.
52.
)f, I., 88.
y, II., 260, 269.
70.
:., 323.
Celts, I., 885.
Cercoi)itlioci(lfe, 1., 93, 840.
Ceiobro-spinal nerves, II., 215.
L'ustracion, I., 88.
Cetacea, I., 15, 16, 82, 322.
Ciiacma bnboon, I., 848.
Clialinurs, Rev. (>., I., ;^S9, 392.
Cluiint'leous, I., 49; II., 235.
Charity, I., 410.
Cliarleiimgiie, IX., 172.
Chastity, X., 8, 190, 198, 213 ; IX., 20,
149.
Chastity among Australians, X., 180.
,, ill Greece, X., 218.
,, in Home, I., 225.
,, male, I., 288.
„ Teutonic, X., 228.
Cliauveau, XI., 219.
( lieiioptora, I., 821.
Cherry, Prof., XI., 100, 171, 170, 177,
195, 207.
Chevrol, Ucik', II., 232.
Chiefs among savages, I., 877.
Cliilabothrus, X., 51.
Chimpanzee, I., 847.
Chinese pygmies, I., 104.
Chinese, X., 107, 142. 151, 218, 246,
201, 402, 407.
Chinoolv-s, I., 105, 118.
Chippeways, X., 105.
Chiromys," X., 383.
Chironectis, I., 84.
Ciiivalry and morals, I., 280.
Chorion, 1., 91.
Christian Churcli, I., 254, 273.
Chrysostom, 1., 411.
Cluysothrix, X., 888.
Cliurch and charity, I., 415.
Chromis paterfamilias, X., 83.
Cicero, X., 185, 227, 410, 440; XI., 73,
202.
Cities of refuge, XI., 107.
Civili.satiou and misery, I., 400.
Civil law in Rome, XI., 200.
Civilised races classified, X., 100.
Clarke, Sir Andrew, I., 348.
Classification of birds, I., 57.
,, of mauliind, I., 103.
Cleanliness, IX., 27.
Cnidoglanis, I., 34.
Cobbe, Miss, X., 332.
Coohinese, I., 107.
Cockatoo, X., 06, 315.
Cod, fecundity of, X., 25.
Codes of law, 11., 173.
Codrington, I., 128, 131, 204, 395.
Coemptio, I., 225.
Colfee, effects of, XX., 271.
Cold-blooded animals, I., 100.
Coleridge, XX., 100, 274.
Cuiumbro, I., 58, 04.
Comanches, I., 105.
Comitatus, IX., isg.
Common law, XI., :20,5.
Community, size of, I., 10, 'A^O.
Compensation for feuds, 11., 103.
Competition of species, I., 55.
Compulsory marriages, I., 281.
Compurgation. II., 185.
Confarreatio, I., 225.
Confucius, I., 402.
Conjugal .sympatliv, I., 7, i.-jC 153
2.S7, 854. ■
Conscience, IX., .05, 58, 72.
Constancy of species, I., 30.
Constantine, I., 18H.
Consumptives sanguine, IX., 275.
Contagious emotions, II., 290.
Contuberniuni, I., 225.
Co-operation, I., 293.
Coreans, I., 107.
Cort, Jliss, I., 245, 407.
Coste, :M,, X., 35.
Cottus, nest of, X., 84.
Couch, JXr., X., 802, 812.
Coulanges, F. dc, II., 185, 142, 151, 170.
Courage, II., 27, 290.
Courtesy, XX., 28.
Courtesans in Greece, I., 221.
„ in Japan, I., 203.
Court of the irundred, II., 182.
Courts nf !i|j,t„, [j__ 195
Cox, roorge, 1., 271.
Craiujs, 1., 307.
Creasy, Sir Edward, I., 444.
Crevy, I., 455.
Creighton, Andrew, I., 245.
Creighton, Charles, I., 74.
Crenilabrus, L, 84.
Cremaster muscle, X., 74,
Crespigny, I., 94.
Criminal law, XX., 178.
Criminals, treatment of, X. , 10 ; XI 1
XX., 105.
Crocodiles, X., 48, 303.
Cromwell, Oliver, X., 458.
Crossbills, X., 313.
Gumming, Miss (iordon, I., 388.
Curr, E. M., I., 110, 149, 181, 199, 266,
850, 875.
Cursores, X., 67.
Cyclopterus, I., 34.
Cynocepliaius, I., 341.
Cyon, M., IX., 295.
Cyprinodonts, X., 37.
Dacotahs, X., 105, 118.
Damaras, X., 105.
Danks, Rev. B., X., 181.
Darwin, Charles, X., •2-2, 28, 43, GO, 112,
117, 122, 172, 178, 328, 880, 34S,:«0,
371 ; II., 12, 90, 258, 202, 200, 284.
290, 298.
David, King, I., 386.
i
■ I r
4 :
Sit
Davy, Dr. John, II., 037^ 253.
Dawson, James, I., 375.
Day, F., I., 32, 34, 35, 304.
Death rate, I., 109.
penalty, I., 258.
Deoiduate placontalia, I., 81, 86
Decidua reflexa, I., 91.
Deference, II., 43.
Demonology, I.. 417.
Denis, J., I., 137.
Depressing emotions, II., 213.
Depressor nerve, II., 221.
De Qiiincey, II., 270, 272.
Destruction of 'if'', I,, 2.
Devenisli, I., 4'
Devil-fish, I., ;;_,.
Devine, Prosper, II., 121.
Dhimals, I., 105.
Dicerobates, I., 38.
Didelphis, I., 77.
Didunculus, I., 07.
Digitali.s, effects of, II., 271.
Diodorus, I., 260, 385.
Discoid placenta, I., 87.
Divorce, I., 258, 289.
Dogs, I., 330; II., 11.
Dologeny, I., 29.
Doolittlc, Rev. J., I,, 143, 246,
262, 403.
Doras, I., 34.
Dormouse, I., 320.
Doryichtliys, I., 33.
Doryrliainpus, I., 32.
Douglas, K. Iv.. I., 246, 262, 402.
Dower, I., 9, 243, 254.
Dowry. I., 9, 243, 248, 250.
Draper, Dr., I., 283.
Droglieda, I., 458.
Drugs, emotional effects of, I.,
II., 269, 274.
Du Chaillu, I., 95, 139, 173.
Ducks, I. , 305, 315.
Dumeril, II., 236, 245.
Duncan, Prof., I., 336, 337, 340,
344, 347.
Duruy on Greeks, I., 133, 219,
405.
Dutrociie, II., 2.37.
Duties, growth of, II., 51.
Duty, nature of, II., 30, 44.
., sanctions of, I., 12; II., 32,
,, sense of, I., 11; II., 7, 49.
Dyaks of Borneo, I., 105, 128,
II., 35, 163.
INDEX.
261,
17;
842,
221,
33.
384;
E\(ir,KH, I., 311.
Earl on negritos, I., 104, 177, 370.
Ebers, I., 207.
Echidna, I., 72, 317.
PJdeutates, I., 81, 86, 161. 319.
Education, I., 120.
Edward I. of England, II., 193.
Edward III. of England, I., 455.
Eggs of fish. I., 2S.
„ of frogs, I., 40.
„ of turtles, I., 49.
,, of lizards, I., 50.
Egyptians, I., 107, 131, 266, 282, 386,
404.
Eider duck, I., 306.
P:iephant, I., 88, 90, 326.
Elimination, I., 109, 125, 153, 155,
420.
Ellis, liev. William, I., 124, 129, 130,
211, 214, 389, 39.3, 435.
Ellis, Havelock, IL, 105.
Enibiotocidffi, I., 30.
Emin Pasha, I., 104.
Emotions, nature of, I., 15, 16 ; II.,
211, 265.
Emotions of fisli, II. , 233.
classified, II., 286.
Emu, I., CO.
England, status of women in, I., 285.
English liistorj', I., :358.
Enthusiasm, II., 82.
Equity in law, II., 198.
Erskine on Fijians, I., 211, 388; II.,
35.
Eskimo, I., 105, 238, 874, 376; II.,
102.
Essenes, I., 274.
Etroplus, I., 35.
Euryp3'gidfe, I., 60.
Eutoria cinerea I., 329.
Ewald, II., 108.
Exalting emotions, II., 213.
Exogamy, I., 197 ; II., 148.
Extinct species of birds, I., 56.
Eyre, E. J., I., 237, 351.
Fabiola, I., 408.
Family life, I.. 09.
,, influence of, II., 128, 138.
Fear, nature of, II., 289.
Foatherman, I., 97, 239.
Fecundity, extravaj.'ant, I., 2, 24, 25.
,, lessened, I., 4, 5.
table of, I., 98.
Female chastity, I., 201.
Ferocity in warfare, 1., 430.
Fidelity, II., 25.
Fiij'uier, I., 68, 307.
Fijians, I., 100, 129, 387, 391, 395,
432 ; II., 35, 210.
Finns, I., 107.
Fish; destruction of, I., 20.
,, fecundity of, I., 25.
,, temperature of, II., 237.
Fisheries Iteport, U.S., I., 20, 21, 22.
Fison, Rev. Lorimer, 1., 131,
Flaniini/o, I., 307.
Flogging of women, I., 27.
Ploreuce, I., 350.
INDEX.
329
31, 266, 282, 386,
233.
II., 28G.
3inen iu, I.,
58.
285.
8.
[., 211, 388
11.,
, 374, 376 ;
n.,
Flower, Sir W. H., I., 112 319- TT
216. ' '
Flower and Lydekker, I., 78, 104
164. '
Flying, I., 322.
Folk-moot, II., 195
Forbes, H. O., I., 213, 298 ; II., 245
Forethought, II., 122.
Foster, Sir Michael, I., 81, 96; II.,
Foster and Langley, II. 2'55
FoviUe, ll,,28i:
Fowls, sympathy among, I. 308
j Fox, Dr. Long, 11., 276.
France, hospitals in, I., 409.
,, warfare in, I., 450.
,, women in, I., 28".
Fredum, II., lyo.
Freewill, II., 103.
Friars, orders of, I,, 411.
Fringilla linariii, I., 313.
Fringilliformes, I., ,S12.
Frisian laws, II., 179.
Frog, emotions of, II., 235.
„ liatching of, II,, 240.
„ propagation of, I., 42, 43.
Fuegiana, I., 104, 112, 178, 371, 377.
Furbrmger, Max, II., 237, 253.
Fytche, Lieut.-General, I., 182, 407;
387, 391, 395,
Gaius, II., 143, 200, 201.
Galeichthys, L, 32.
Galcopitiiocus, I., 319.
Galeus Australia, I., 38; II. 244
Gallienus, I., 446. '
GalliniE, I., .53, 63, 307, 308
^375"' II '"''""''' ^■' ^^' ^'^^' ^'''"'' ^^'^'
Ganglia of sympathetic, II., 216, 223,
Gannet, I,, 22.
Gap between reptiles and birds I
55. '
Gard^iner, Dr. S. K., I., 449, 456; II.,
""S^'icT- "•' "•• '''' '''' '''''
Gastrosteus, I., 35.
Gaul, conquest of, I., 445.
Geddes and Thomson, I., 37
Gegenbaur, I., 74; II., 232. '
Geiger, I'rof., I., 139, 280; II., 175.
Orenerosity, II., 22.
Genypterus, I., ;-)4.
Geoplnigus, I., 33.
Gornum marriages, I., 251.
Gorshon condemns polygainy, I., 224
Gesidhs, I., ,355.
Gestation of /ish, I 37
9i;'96, 10/. '"""'"'"^'' '■' ''' ^'' "''
Gibbon, Edward, I., 136, 150, 230, 383.
385, 409, 410, 446, 451 ; II., 4 178
183, 18.5, 200. . > ^'^.
Gibbons, I., 173, :;t4.
Girardinus, I., 37
Gisborne on Maoris, I., 391.
(rlareolinie, I., 308.
Gonds, I., 105.
(iorilla, I., 173, 346.
Gosse, I., 24.
Goukl, 1., 67,79, 311, 315.
Gourami, I., 34.
Government among savages, I., 378.
Grades of birds, I., 58.
Graetz, I., 224, 2,59.
Gralhe, I., 58, 63, 307.
Grave's disease, II., 277.
Gray. Archdeacon, I., 262.
Gray on birds of Scotland, I., 24, 66.
Grayling, I., 34.
Greek charity, I., 405.
■ . infanticide, I., 133.
,, women, I., 222, 271.
Greeks, I., 106, 107, 249, ;^58, 437.
Greely, I., 21.
Green, J. R, I., 411, 457.
Green, T. H., I., 69 ; II., 17, 151.
Gregariousness, I., 293.
Grey, Sir Oeoige, 1., 194, 316.
Grief, II., 287, 289.
(iricsinger, II., 120, 267, 268, 275, 270,
279, 283.
Griniin, I., i;^8.
Grosbeak, I., 1()9.
Grote, George, 1., 439.
(irotius, Hugo, I., 440, 459.
Guatemalans, I., 105.
Guiana tribes, I., 116, 178, 194; II
162. '
Guillemots, 1., 22.
Guinnard, A., I., 119, 431 ; II., 163.
(hiislain, II., 278.
Guizot, F., I., 138, 276, 280, 450; II.,
172, 179, 180, 183, 203.
Gulls' nests, L, 67.
Giintiier, A. C. L., I., 25, 28, 33, 34,
36, 39, 43, .50 ; II., 234.
Haackk, Dr., I., 73.
Haidi'h tribe, I., 105.
Hallam, Henry, 1., 277, 405, 407, 451 ;
IJ., 193.
Haniinett, Kir B., I., 285.
Harincr, I., 25.
Hartmiinn, Prof., I., 95, 173, ;334, 345 ;
II., 261, 289.
Hartwig, I., 119.
Hntcb.infj;. 11.. 239.
Hate, II,, 289.
Hawaiians, I., KK!, 124, 129.
Hawkins, Sir John, 1., 367.
« :(.
T
330
INDEX.
li u
h
!ili
Head-hunting, I., 384.
Hearing, pleasures of, II., 87.
Hearu, W. E., I., 3.')5 ; II., 135, 142.
Heart disease, II., 275.
Heat rigor, II., 249.
Hebor, Bishop, I., 326.
Hebrew charity, I., 404.
cliasti'ty, I., 223.
laws, li., 167, 175.
Hedgehog, I., 162.
Heidenhain, II., 224.
Hemipimelodus, I., 32.
Henry V. of Eng'«nd, I., 412, 455.
Hepburn, Dr., I., 85.
Heredity, II., 104.
Hermes, Dr., I., 346.
Herodotus, I., 194, 266, 356, 431.
Herons, I., 27.
Herring, I., 20, 25; II., 239.
Heterodon, I., 52.
Highlanders, I., 355.
Hill tribes in India, I., 105, IS::, 357.
Hindoos, I., 107, 144, 218, 390, 402.
Hippocampus, I., 33.
Hippopotamus, I., 325.
Hob!; -s, Thomas, II., ,54.
Homer, I., 198, 386; II., 164.
Honesty, II., 23.
Hopley', Mrs., I., 52.
HornbiU, I., 168.
Hortulia, I., 51.
Horse, I., 325.
Hos of India, 1., 10,5.
Hospitals among Mohammedans, I.,
409.
Hospitals, growth of, I., 403, 406.
,, in China, I., 408.
,, in England, I., 410.
„ in France, I., 420.
,, in India, I., 404.
„ in Italy, L, 419.
,, in Scotland, I., 418.
,, in Spain, I., 419.
Hotel-Diou, I., 409, 412.
Hottentots, I., 104, 116, 350, 375.
House communities, II., 136.
Howell, laws of, I., 253; II., 136.
Howes, I., 15.
Howitt, A. \V., I., 179, 377.
Hue, 1., 240, 244.
Hudson, I., 27, 301.
Hume, David, I., 230, 280, 457 ; II.,
15.
Human sacrifices, I., 440, 448.
Humility, II., 25.
Hundred, court of, II., 182.
Huns, I., 198, 448.
Hunter, Sir W., I., 357 ; II., 237.
Huxley, I., 75 ; II., 229, 234, 239.
Hydroaaunirt, II., 211.
Hyla aurea, I., 40 ; II., 241.
Hylobatofl, I., 344.
Hylodes, I., 45.
Hymenoptera, I., 294.
Hyrax, I., 325.
Ibex, I., 325.
Iceland, I., 1.39.
Ichneumon, I., 164.
Ideals, origin of, II., 81.
Illegitimate children, I., 155.
Imbecility, II., 278.
Imitation in duty, II., 31, 45.
Incest, II., 149.
Inconceiyables, II., 311.
Incubation, instinct of, I., 54.
„ of birds, I., 65.
period, I., 68. 69, 70.
Indepena'nce of sympathetic nerves,
II., 223.
India, I., 357.
Indians, North American, I., 194, 204,
238, 374, 430.
Induced primary emotions, I, , 17 ;
II., 295.
Infangthief, II., 193.
Infanticide, I., 113, 115, 126, 131, 141.
,, in China, I., 141.
„ in cultured nations, I., 145.
,, in England, I., 140.
,, in India, I., 144.
,, in .Japan, I., 143.
,, in Rome, I., 135.
Infectious emotions, II., 297.
Insanity, II., 278.
Insectivores, I., 81, 86, 319.
Insects, sympathy of, I., 294.
,, temperature of, II., 238.
Intelligent types, I., 3.
Ii valides. Hotel des, I., 418.
Irish marriages, I., 254.
Iroquois, I., 105, 203 ; II., 35, 103.
Isaeus on Greek dowries, I., 249.
Italy, warfare in, I., 451.
Jakums of Malay Penin., I., 105.
James I. on demonology, I., 417.
Japanese, I., 107, 143, 202.
Javanese, I., 214, 394, 435.
Jealousy, benefits of, II., 128.
,, the emotion, II., 289.
Jerdon, Birds of India, I., 66, 164, 165'
Jerusalem, Assize of, I., 281 ; II., 183,
203.
Jesse on dogs, I., 330, 332 ; II., 11.
Jesus, II., 15, 29.
Jews, I., 100, 107, 248, 258, 386, 407,
436.
Jewish infanticide, I., 132.
Joinville, I., 411, 419.
Jones, Sir VVilliam, I., 249.
Jones, Prof. Uymer, I., 21, 307, 312,
329.
Joy, II., 287, 290.
INDEX.
331
M.
,81.
a, I., 155.
:i., 34, 45.
311.
; of, I., 54.
1, I., 65.
I., 68, C9, 70.
mpathetic nerves,
srican, I., 194, 204,
amotions, I., 17;
115, 126, 131, 141.
a, I,, 141.
red nations,!., 145.
land, I., 140.
a, I., 144.
ill, I., 143.
le, I., 135.
, II., 2<J7.
86, 319.
jf, I., 294.
e of, II., 238.
,3.
3, I., 418.
254.
13 ; il., 35, 163. ,
wries, I., 249.
,451.
enin., I., 105.
ology, I., 417.
43, 262,
)4, 435.
f, II., 128.
an, II., 289.
iia, I., 60, 104, 165'
£, I., 281 ; II., 183,
iO, 332 ; II., 11.
248, 25tt, 386, 407,
I., 132.
19.
I., 249.
r, I., 21, 3n7, 312,
Juangs, I., 105.
Judah, I., 202.
Judicial combat, II., 184.
Jury, II., 187.
Justice, II., 27.
Justices of the Peace, II., 194.
Kaffirs, I., 105, 149, 207, 433,
Kalmucks. I., 100, 129.
Kamsohadales, I., 105, 377, 431.
Kangaroo, I., 77.
Kant, Immanuel, II., 20, 29, 44, 108.
Karens, I., 105.
Komble on Saxons, I., 140; II , 159.
Khoiids of India, I., 105.
Kluirgis, I., 105.
Kinios of Madagascar, I., 103.
Kinahan, Mr., I., .35.
Kingfislier, I., 06, 311.
King's Peace, II., 188.
Kings, rise of, I., 382.
Kirke's Physiology, II., 2'^i. ivi'j
Koala, I., 76, 247.
Kolben's .\frica, I., 116, l,,^-.
Kolb's statistics, I., 155.
Kolhnan, Prof., 1., 104.
Koniagas, I., 105.
Kiinigswiirter, I., 230, 249, 251, 253
II., 162, 174.
Koppenfels, I., 173.
Koran, I., 98, 132, 245, 259, 401 ; II. ,
170.
Kuki tribes, I., 105.
Kurumbas, I., 105.
L.\CKPKDK, I., ;^04.
Lacroix, I., 419.
Lactation, I., 84, 97.
Lagomys, I., 320.
Lagothrix, 1., 337,
Laudois, II.. 223.
Landor, A. H. ,S,, I., 112, 178.
Lane, E. W., I., 217 ; II., 9.
Lanfrauc, I., 413.
Langley, J, N., II., 258, 259.
Language of monkeys, I., 334.
Lappenberg, J. M., I., 253, 278, 453.
Lapps, 1., 100, 129.
Law and duty, II. , 56.
„ growth of, II., 1.57, 160.
,, of gestation period, I., 100.
„ origin of, I., 15; II., 50, 138.
Law, prevalence of, II., 182.
Lawyers, rise of, II,, 204.
Lecky, \V. E. H,, I,, 136, 138, 222,
227, 271, 27H, 406, 408, 417, 446.
Leo, Dr., II., 261.
Legislation, source of, II., 170.
Legouvi', Ernest, I., 250, 252, 270, 287.
Lemur, I., 92, 171.
Lendenfeld, 11. von, II., 246.
Lepers, treatment of, I., 408, 413.
Le Souef, A. E., I., 60, 116,
Lewis and Clarkt, I., 118, 183.
Libortinage in early Church, I., 276.
Lichtenstein, I., 112, 170; II., 33.
Limoges, I., 454.
Lindenbrog's Harbarian Laws, I., 228
229, 251 ; iL, 129, 179, 191.
Little, liev. H., I., 130.
Liver and emotions, II. , 275, 291,
Livingstone, Dr., I., 48,98,168,206,
327, 370, 393, H97, 428; II., ,38,
Lizards, I., 49 ; II,. 235, 236, 245.
Locke, John, IL, 46, 01, 313.
Low, H. Brooke, I., 128, 382.
Lower races, disappearance of, I., 120.
Lubbock, Sir John, I., 139, 187, 230,
Lumpsucker, I., 34,
Lunatics, I., 417,
MACAyuE, I., 335. 1340.
Mains of Brazil, I., 104.
JIacaulay, Lord, I., 355.
Macbeth, II., 109.
Macchiavelli, I., ;350.
McCoy, ,Sir F., I., 34, 38, 329.
Macedonians, I., 358, 386.
Mackenzie, I., 183.
McLennan, J. P., I., 1S7, 195, 210;
II., 133.
MacGillivray, I., 314.
Macphcrson, Dr. J., II. , 283.
Macropodidie, I., 79.
Madagascar pvginies, I., 103.
Magyars, I,, 107,
Maliomet, 1,, :355.
Maine, Sir Henry, I., 254, 273, 287;
IL, 128, l;35, 1130, 142, 169, 178, 182,
200, 200.
Malagasies, 1., 106, 214, 355, 392, 398,
435,
Malays, I., 100, 213, 240, 389, 393,
398, 435.
Malcolm, Sir J., I,, 244, 206.
Male chastity, I., 222.
Maninue, I., 74, 85.
Mammals, I., 5.
Man, parental care of, 1., 95.
Man, Mr., I., 177.
Mania, IL, 279.
Mankind classified, I., 6, 104,
Maudau tribe, I,, 105,
Manchoorians, I., 107.
Manu, ordinances of, I., 247, 208, 382,
390, 402.
Maoris, I., 105, 123, 128, 205, 301, 387,
391,395,431; II., 103.
Marlhorougli, statute of, II., 193.
Marmoset, I., 330.
Marmot, 1,, 320.
Marcpiesas Islanders, I., 106.
Marriage, age at, I., 7, 111,
;.
l.hl\
332
INDEX.
I
i I
hi
Marshall on tlu Irog, II., 234.
Marsupials, I., 74, 78, 161, 300,318;
II., 247.
Maternal care, I., 31, .'52; II., 294.
Matter, its nature inconceivable, II.,
310.
Maudsley, Dr., II., 278, 279.
Sledullated nerves, II., 224.
Megapods, I., 58.
Melancholia, II., 279, 282.
Melanesians, I., 128, 204, 237, 395, 432.
Melos, I., 439.
Menhadden, I., 21.
ISIexicans, 1., 390.
Michelet, I., 413, 45().
iNlidas leoninus, I., 337.
Jliklouho-Maclay, 11., 240.
Milk, pigeons', I., C4.
Miik of inonotreuies, 1., 74.
Mill, John S., II., 10, 28, 57.
Jlilne, Rev. \V. 0., I., 403.
Jlilton, John, I., 450 ; II., 79.
Misery and civilisation, 1., 400.
Mishnii tribes, I., 105.
Mitchell on herring, I., 20, 21.
Mitylene, I., 438.
Mivart, St. George, I., 57, 58, 224.
Moguls, I., 385.
Molianiniodan charity, I., 402, 409.
Moles, ferocitv of, I., 102.
Moinnisen, I.', 227, 273, 441, 445; II.,
170, 17G, 178.
Monastic orders, I., 414.
Monkeys, 1., 90, 92, 171, 334, 337.
Monogamy among savages, I., 175.
317; 11
246.
418, 459;
411, 459;
II.
II.
Monotremes, 1., 72
Montaigne, II., 73.
Monteil, I., 282, 412,
184.
Montesquieu, I., 283,
172, 183.
Moors, I., 100, 210, 244, 261.
Moral feeling. I., 15.
„ ideals, II., 8, 78, 95, 305.
,, instinct defined, 1., 18.
Morality and sympathy, II., 0, 304,
defined, II., 19.
,, stiiges of, II., 7.
Morelia, 1., 51.
Jlorgan, C. Llovd, II.. 266.
Morgan, L. H.,' I., 87, 1 -.7, 203, 321,
339, 374, -130; II., 35, 133, 1C3.
Jlorgeugabe, I., 25i.
Mormon fratercula, I., 300.
:Mosaic law, I., 198, 248, 258, 386, 407,
436.
!Mo8heim, I., 276.
Mosquito Indians. !., 105, 123.
MotaciUida', 1., 312.
Motive:; of conduct, I., 11 ; II., 101.
Mouat, Dr. F. J., I., 177, 349.
Moule, Archdeacon, I., 142, 240.
IMulhall, I., 1.55.
Miiller on Iceland, I., 139.
Miiller, C. O., I., 250; II., 132, 174.
jMundurucus, I., 105.
Mundus of India, I., 105.
JIuratori, I., 270.
Music, physiological effects, II., 298.
Musk rat.L, 321.
Mustelus Iffivis, I., 39.
Musters, Capt., I., 60, 119, 194, 3.57,
374.
Mycetes, I., 337.
^lyrmecobius, I., 78.
Nag AS of Burniah, I., 105, 182.
Naja bungarus, I., 52.
Nanscn, Fridtjof, I., 238, 374.
Natural law of Rome, II., 200.
Necessitarianism, II., 100.
Nedunia, I., 249.
Negritos, I., 97, 103, 112, 176, 349,
370.
Negro races, I., 106, 129, 208, 239,
354, 363, 385, 389, 393, 397, 434 ; II.,
36, 132.
Nepos, Cornelius, I., 272.
Neropliis, I., 33.
Nerve basis of emotions, II., 211.
., development, II., 2.
,, susceptibility, I., 42.
., systems, II., 215.
Nest-building fish, I., 34.
Nests of birds, I., 58, 62, 65.
New Caledonians, I., 105, 385, 387,
388, 395.
New Hebrides, natives of, I., 388.
Newport, George, II., 238, 242.
Newt, propagation of, I., 43.
New Zealanders, I., 105, 123, 128,
361,385, 391,395; II., 163.
\ Nicaniguans, I., 105.
1 Nichols, .Arthur, I., 73, 76. 77.
Nicholson en snakes, I., 51.
Nicobar Islanders, I., 105, 124.
Niebuhr, 1., 228,441, 458; 11., 170.
; Niemojowski, I., 129, 131, 215, 240.
Nobility, origin of, II., 153.
Non-deciduate placenta, I., 81, 82.
North American Indians, I., 118, 182,
357, 374, 376; II., 161.
Normans in England I., 451.
Nornmn, Henr}, I., 264,399.
Noaocoineia, I., 410.
Notodelphis, I., 45.
Nototrema, I., 44.
Noyes,J. H., l.,366.
Nudity, I., 206, 219, 224.
Nurse-frog, 1., 45.
Nyctipithecus, I., 338,
Obaos of New Caledonia, I., 105, 385,
388.
i
J, I., 139.
250; II., 132, 174.
105.
I., 105.
ical effects, II., 2'J8.
39.
'.', CO, 119, 194, 3.57,
78.
h, I., 105, 182.
52.
,"l., 238, 374.
ome, II., 200.
, II., 100.
103, 112, 17C, 319,
106, 129, 208, 239,
89,393,397,434; II.,
, I., 272.
lotions, II., 211.
lit, II., 2.
ity, I., 42.
I., 215.
ti, I., 34.
, 58, 62, 65.
s, I., 105, 385, 387,
atives of, I., 388.
, II., 238, 242.
)ii of, I., 43.
1, I., 105, 123, 128,
195; II., 103.
105.
I., 73, 76, 77.
ikos, I., 51.
•s, 1., 105, 124.
441, 458; II., 170.
129, 131, 215, 240.
A, II., 153.
liieeula, I., 81, 82.
Indians, I., 118, 182,
II., 101.
;laiKl I., 451.
I., 264, 399.
no.
15.
i.
360.
219, 224.
>.
„ 338.
aledonia, I., 105, 385,
IXDKX.
H.S8
Octodou, I., 320.
Ophioceplialus, I., 34.
Opistrodelphis, I,, 45.
Opium, II., 272.
Opossum, Virginian, I., 70, 77, 78, 79.
Australian, I., 77, 319.
Orang-outang, I. 345.
Oraons, I., 105.
Orca gladiator, I., 21.
Ordeal of rombat, II.. 183.
Ortolan, II,, 142,
Oscle, I,, 251,
Osteogeniosus, I,, 32.
Ostiaks, 1., 105.
Ostrich, I., 59.
Ova of frogs, II,, 240.
Ovarian gestation, I,, 37.
Owen, Sir Il„ I., 39, 74.
Pachyperms, I., 325.
Paharias, I., 105.
Paiu, II,, 286.
Papal depravity, I., 279.
Papuans, I., 210, 387, 388, 392,396, 432.
Paradise, I., 33.
Paraguay tribes, I., 123.
Parentafcaro, I., 3, 0, 109.
„ „ diminishes fecundity, I.,
40,100.
Parental care in amphibians, I., 41,
„ „ in birds, I., 54, 65.
1, ,, in fish, I., HO.
,, ,, ill reptiles, I., 40.
>, ,, of barbarians, 1., 129.
„ „ of civilised races, I,, 150.
,, ,, of savages, I., 98.
Parker, Prof,, 1., 73, 75,
Parkos, Dr., I., 188; II,, 270.
Parrakeets, I., 310.
Parricide, II,, 177,
Parrot, I., 08, 170,' 314, 310.
Passores, I., 312.
Passeriforincs, 1,, 312.
Patagouians, I., 105, 2.39, 357, 374 ;
II , 102, 103.
Patience, II,, 22.
Patria potestas, II., 141.
Pathologic states and emotiijiis, II,,
275.
I'aul, St., I,, 275.
Peine forte et dure, II., 190.
Pelicans, £., 23, 307,
Pembery, M. S., II., 2,50, 251.
Peraiueles, I., 78.
Perch, Fighting, II,, 233,
Perihestie respoiisibilit,-, I,, 14; II,,
139.
Perrin, I., 2f')0,
E'orsians, 1., 107, 132, 244,
PeruvitinM, I., ,390.
Peschol, Oscar, L, 120; 11„ 73,
Petheriek, John, I,, 327; II,, 131.
I Petrels, I., 22,
I Petty treason, [I., 177.
I Pbaiangista, I., 318.
I Plialangers, I,, 77.
Phascolari'tos, I., 77 ; 11.. 247.
Phascogale, I.. 78,
Plio'iiicians, I.. 107.
Phyllopteryx, I,, 33.
Pliyllostoniata, 11., 322.
Physiology, II,, loa.
Picaria, L, 308.
Pig, I.. 325.
Pigeons, I,, 61.
Pike, Owen, I,, 140, 230, 255, 270, 281,
413 ; IL, 197.
Pilo-niotor nerves, II., 259.
Pinel, II., 281.
Pipa .'uiierieaiia, 1,, 45.
Pithecia, I,, 338,
Placenta, I,, 80.
Placentalia, I., 80.
Plagiostomes, I,, 38.
Plato, I., 133, 220, 440 ; II., 142, 207
Platvcercus, I,, 316.
Platypus, I., 72, 73, 317.
Pleasure, origin of. II., 286.
Pliny, I., 130.
Plexus, sympathetic, II., 210.
Plover, I.", :^07, 308.
Podargus, 1., 311.
Plena, as blond-money, II., 164.
Political rights for women, 1,, 289.
Polyandry, I,, 210, 220.
Polynesian infanticide, 1,, 129, 240
3H2, 387.
Polynesian marriages, I,, 210,
Polypedates, I,, 4().
Pomatomus, I., 21.
Poor laws, I,, 414,
Pope Gregory II,, I., 288.
Porcupine, I., 104.
Porpoise, I,, 21, 323,
Pouches in fish, I., 33.
Pouched frogs, I., 44.
Poucli of marsupials, I., 75.
Polygamy, I., 176. 182,
Pratincoles, I,, 308,
Precocity of young birds, I., 02.
Prescott, W. H., L, 390.
Primary emotions, II,, 286.
Progress of self-respect, II,, 74.
Promiscuity in savage life, 1,, 187.
Prusiniians, I., 103.
Prudence, II,, 27.
PrudiMitial checks, 1., 110,
Pseuilecbis, I., 52.
Pseudo-morality, II,, 37, 47,
Pseudo-moral self-respect, 11,, 69,
Psittaci, I., 312.
I'tochcia, I., 410.
Puberty, emotional changes at, 11.,
267.
I! i|i (1
'-It-
Li !'
f(
334
INDEX.
Public opinion, II., 34.
Puffin, Arctic, I., 306.
Purcliase of wives, I., 209, 230, 242.
,, ,, in Greece, I., 219.
Pj'thon, incubation of, I., 51 ; II.,
245.
QU.\DUUMANA, I., 332.
Quatrefages, I., 240.
Quasi-morality, II., 37, 102.
Quasi-moral self-respect, II., C8.
Raffles, Sir Stamford, I., 214, 394,
435.
Rajpoot infanticide, I., Hi.
Ramsay, Prof., I., 32, IJ-lG, 250; II.,
201.
Rauke, Leopold, I., 254, 279, 411.
RatitiE, I., 57.
Rats, I., 320.
Rattlesnake, I., 62.
Ravens, I., 170.
Rawlinson, George, I., 267, 382, 385.
Ray, I., 38.
Redpoll, I., 312.
Reeves, English law, I., 281.
Reformation of criminals, II., 206.
Ileid, Dr. Waymoutli, I., 64.
Religion, effect on woman's status, I.,
205.
Religious animosities, I., 10 ; II., 1.
Remy's artificial nests, I., 35.
Reptiles, emotions of, II., 235.
,, parental care of, I., 4, 46.
Responsibility, 1., 13 ; II., 100.
Responsa prudontium, II., 200, 203.
Retaliation, II., 161.
Reverence, II. , 25.
Hhea, I., 60.
Rhinodcrma, I., 45.
Right conduct defined, I., 18 ; II.,
805.
Right and wrong, II., 308.
Robertson, Dr. W., I., 117, 429, 448,
452.
Robinson, Dr. Arthur, I., 80.
Rocklings, I., 34.
Rodents, I., 80, 86, 163, 320.
Rohlf on Moors, I., 393.
Romanes. George J., I., 67, 169, 297,
304, 306, 307, 316, 320, 322, 326, 326,
329, 339; II., 232.
Romans, I., 100, 107, 135, 250, 356,
406, 407.
Roman ciiastity, I., 150, 225.
law, II., 176, 200.
Rorqual, 1., 21.
Rosenberg on Papuans, I., 131.
Ros.mthal, Dr. I., II., 249, 251.
Ros:,, Dr., IL, 270.
Rusr u, G. W., I., 77.
Rus! in, John, I., 154; II. , 23.
St. Bartholemew's, L, 412.
St. Hilaire, I., 314.
St. Louis, I., 411.
Sakis, I., 338.
Salamander, I., 43.
Salic law, II., 167, 173, 179.
Salivary gland, II. , 224.
Sale of women in G)eecc, I., 220.
Samoan pigeon, I., 6.'.
Samoans, I., 106, 212.
Samoyedes, I., 105.
Samson, I., 202.
Sanderson on elephants, I., 327.
Sand-martin, I., 66.
Santals, 1., 105, 182.
Saraceu hospitals, L, 409.
Sarasin, brothers, I., 44.
Sare, I., 355.
Savage communities, I., 360.
Savages classified, I., 103.
„ conjugal life of, I., 174.
,, disappearance of, I., 120.
Saxons, I., 140, 449 ; II., 180.
Scammon. 1., 86.
Scandinavian marriages, 1., 252.
Schlegel on snakes, I., 61 ; II. , 234.
Schreiner, 1., 59.
Schoolcraft, H., I., 118, 12.3, 188, 185,
239, 257, 374, 376, 378, 430 ; II. , 161.
Schools first established, I., 151.
Scincidse, viviparous, I., 49.
Sclater, Dr., I., 60.
Scombersocidie, I., 37.
Scorpaena, I., 37.
Scott, Sir Walter, I., 280.
Scyllium, I., 38.
Scythians, I., 385.
Seals, I., 21, 90, 329.
Sea-eagle's nest, I., 67.
Secondary emotions, II., 303.
Seeley's Freshwater Fish, I., 20, 34.
Self-respect, I., 12; II. , 8, 63.
Selonka, K., I., 80, 300 ; II. , 247.
Semang pygmies, I., 103, 177.
Semilunar ganglia, II. , 257.
Semou, H., t., 74.
Semper, Carl, TI., 239.
Seneca on infanticide, I., 136. .
So sation, nature of, I., 16.
Sense of right and wrong, II., 320.
„ of space, II., 319.
Scquard, Dr. Brown-, If., 106, 257.
Serpents, incubation of, I., 52.
Servian marriages, 1., 264.
Sexual l)eauty, II., 90.
,, emotions, II., 293.
„ jealousy, II., 131.
Sharks, I., 38 ; II., 234.
Siiarpey, Dr., I., 90.
Sheldon, Un;. trench, I., 208, 397.
Siielley, II. , 322.
Slioshones, I., 105.
-rj
INDEX.
385
I., 412.
'3, 179.
24.
eece, I., 220.
ats, I., 327.
409.
44.
I., 3G0.
103.
of, I., 174.
;e of, I., 120.
II., 180.
ges, 1., 252.
., 51 ; II., 234.
8, 123, 183, 185,
178, 430; II. ,161.
ed, I., 151.
I., 49.
280.
11., 303.
'ish, I., 20, 34.
I., 8, 03.
U ; II., 247.
.03, 177.
., 257.
, I., 130.
I., IG.
oug, II., 320.
9.
II., 106, 257.
Jf, I., 52.
254.
293.
31.
4.
, I., 208, 397.
Siamese, I., 107, 144, 246, 264, 401.
Siberians, I., 131.
Sick, care of, I., 394.
Sidgwiok, Prof., II., 17.
Siebold, Von, I., 44.
Simiadie, I., 344.
Sireiiia, I., 82, 323.
Size of cities, I., 366.
Skinner, PJajor, I., 827, 335.
Skua, I., 307.
Slavery, I., 10, 434 ; II., 1.
Slotli, I.. 319.
Smith, Adam, II., 15, 66.
Smitli, Prof. Robertson, I., 130, 223
224, 225, 245, 357, 390; II., 132. '
Smythe, Brougli, I., 115.
Snakes, 1., 50 ; II. 234, 245.
Snow, Mr., I., ,349.
Social .sympatiiy, I., 9, 291, 303, 808,
317, 349, 353.
Socialistic communities, I., 366.
Socrates, I., 222.
Sclar plexus, II., 276.
Solenostoma, I., 31.
Solomon, I., 202.
Solomon Islanders, I., 385, 388.
Solon, I., 249.
Somali, I., 106.
Sovereign and law, II., 169.
Space, its nature, II., 309.
Spalacid*, I., 320.
Spalding, Douglas, II., 259.
Spallanzani, I., 43.
Sparrmann, I,, 110.
Spartans, I., 134, 220, 355.
Sparro.v, voracity of, I., 23.
Spencer, Herbert, I., 28, 200, 376, 385,
390, 431 ; II., H, 28, 29, 50, 204!
Splienodon, 1., 46.
Spinoza, I., 1 ; 11., 109, 215, 313, 317.
Sijlanclinic nerves, II., 218.
Sprengel, I., 414.
Stages in growth of law, IT., 100.
Stanley, Hisliop, 1., 21, 23,00, 108,312.
Status of women, 1., 9, 235, 250, 262
Statute of Winchester, II., 137.
Statutes, ridiculous, 11., 48.
Steele, Kev. Dr., I., 128.
Steiumetz, I., 263, 264.
Stephen, Leslie, II., 18. !
Stephen, Sir J. F., I., 139; II., 121,
128, 100, 177, 185, 193, 208.
Stewart, J. N., II., 294.
Sticklebacks, I., 35; II., 233.
Stirling, Prof. W., II., 249.
Stomato-gastric nerves, II., 229.
Striated muscle, II., 224.
Strutliiones, I., 01.
Slubbs, Prof., II., lyy.
Suetonius, I., 137.
Sumatraus, I., 394.
Surinam toad, I., 45.
Survival of educated clas.ses, I., 154,
Sweetness, origin of, II., 86.
Sympathetic nerves, II., 215, 2-'l -^''S
256. '
Sympathy, as a means of survival, I.,
lOo.
Sympathy as a natural moral it v I
11; II., 1,0, 17. ^' '
Sympathy, conjugal, 1., 7, 158.
.. growth of, I., 2, 367.
.. nature of, II., 302.
n".. „ PS't'cutal, I., 3, 6, 30, 40,
+6, 54, 65, 98, 100, 109, 129, 150.
Spmpathy, social, I., 291, 303, 308
317, 349, 353.
Syngnathidie, I., 33
Sypliilis, historic effects of, I., 283.
Tacitus, I., 130, 1.38, 231, 448; II.,
lo4.
Tahitians, I., 100, 129, 131, 211, 392,
4o4,
Tamerlane, I., 385.
Taplin, Rev. Mr., I., 110, 351.
Tasmaniaus, I., 104, 114, 178, 238
Tatars, I., l()G, 215, 240, 244, 385, 396.
Taylor, Rev. Richard, I., 128, 391.
Tea, emotional effects of, II., 271
Temperance, II., 27.
Temperature of mammals, II., 249
Tenuent, Sir E., I.. 90, 326.
Teutons, I., 138, 228, 447 ; II., 178.
lliebau sacred band, I., 355.
Thibetans, I., 107,
Thiers, Alplionse, I., 383.
Thliukeets, I., 105.
Thomson, Dr., I., 124, 387, 391; II.,
103.
Thomson, Dr. Rruce, II., 107.
Thorburn. Dr., 11., 207.
Thornton, Thomas, I., 218, 403.
Tlaorpe, Benjamin, I., 448; II., 137.
rhrush, I., 314.
Tliylacinus, I., 78.
Time, its nature, II., 309.
'i'imieh tribes, 1.. 105.
Titmouse, I., 318.
I ToaJfish I., 35.
Tobacco, II., 271.
Todas of India, I., 105, 238.
Tolerance, II., 22.
Tombaras of New Ireland, I., 1C5.
Tougans, I., 106.
Toothed pigeon. I., 07.
Tortoise, eggs of, I., 48.
Touaregs, I., 107, 210.
Towns, size of, I., 366.
Training, mor.al, IT,, 3,S,
Tropidonotus, 1., 52.
Truce of God, I., 453.
Truth, II., 23.
11 i 'I
')
\ !l
38(5
INDEX.
Tuko, Dr., I., 417 ; II., 204.
Tunsuz, I., 105, 128.
Tunisians, I.. 107.
Turcomans, I., 107.
Turdiuac, I., 814.
Turks, I., 107.
Turner, Rev. George, I.. 129.
Turtles, propagation of, 1., 47.
Tutelage of women, 1., 270.
Twelve tables at Rome, II., 1(;7, 170.
Tylor, K. B., I., 115, 852, 450.
Uaui'ks, I., 105.
Udanavarga, I., 209, 270.
Umbilical vesicle, I., HI,
Ungulates, I., 105, 828.
Unprolitic tvpes survive, I
Uriiuhart, I., 210.
Usus at Rome, 1.. 225.
Uterus in monotremes, I,, 73
,, in sharks, I., 81).
107.
i
V.^LEXCIENNES, 11., 240.
Valentin, Prof., II., 28S.
Valontiuian, Kniperor, 11., 4.
Van der Kolk, II., 271, 275, 27'J, 282.
Vaso-motor centre, II., 25fS.
,, nerves, II., 210.
Veddiih pvgmies, I., 103, 349, 370.
Vendidad, II.. 175.
Victoria, natives of, I., 121.
Vikings, I., 449.
Virgin Mary, worship of, I., 280.
Virtues tabulated, II., 22.
Visceral blood-vessels. II., 218.
Visigoths, I., 139.
Viviparous amnhibia, I., 43.
fish, I., 86.
„ habit, I., 72.
Voeltzkow, I., 48.
Vogt, Carl, I., 98, 162, 165, 318, 321,
825, 337, 843, 844, 847 ; II., 298.
Voice, I., 800.
Voltaire, I., 407, 459.
Vulture, I., 170.
Wagtails, I., 312.
Wagner's Phvsiology, II., 234.
Waitz, I., 397.
Wakamba negroes, I., 105.
Wallace, A. R., I., 58,94, 116, 178, 239,
845, 350, 371, 384, 892, 393, 429,
432 ; II., 85, 133, 102.
Waller, .Augustus, II., 257.
Waller, A. K., II., 103, 218, 221, 223,
248, 271.
Warfare, I., 11, 441, 440, 451.
Warlike elements in society, I., 425.
Warm-l)looded types, I., 300 ; II., 236.
Wars of Roses, 1., 457.
Watson and Kaye, I., 144, 182.
Weaver l)ird, I., 100.
Web-footed birds, I., 58, 02, 805.
Welsh customs, J 140, 281 ; II., 130.
,, marriages, i., 253.
Wergilds, II., 1,07, 190.
Westermarck, Ed., I., 149, 177, 247,
248, 254.
Whales, I., 21, 85, 323.
Whitman, Walt, I., 459.
Whitmee, Rev. J. S., I., 67.
White of Selborne, I., ,308, 323, 325.
White, Dr. W. H., II., 251.
Wiarda, Dr., II., 180.
Wied, Prince von, I., 311.
Wife beating, I., 257, 277.
,, capture, I., 194.
,, purchase, I., 198, 203.
Wilson's Birds, I., 815.
Williams, Archdeacon, I., 407.
Wilks, Dr. Samuel, II., 289.
Wilkinson, Sir J. G., I., 131, 266,
882.
Will-power, II., 107.
Wissmau, JIajor, I., 385.
Woodford, I., 384.
Woodpecker, I., 109, 809.
Woodward, R. B., I., 253.
Women in Australia, I., 237.
treatment of, I., 195, 256,
459.
Women, tutelage of, I., 270.
Workliouses, I., 414.
Wrasse, paternal care of, I., 33.
Wyman, I., 45.
Yakuts, I., 105.
Yarrell's Fishes, I., 35, 37.
Young mammals cold-blooded, II.,
252.
Zanzibars, I., 106.
Zarathusthra, I., 207.
Ziemssen, II., 270, 277.
Zonary placenta, I., 88.
Zoroastrians, I., 207 ; II., 175.
4;P
AIIHIIUKKN INIVKUsri'V I'KKSS.
, 257.
1, 218, 221, 223,
4G, 451.
ociotv, I., 425.
I., yob; II., 23C.
144, 182.
i8, 02, .305.
), 231 ; II., 13G.
153.
', 149. 177, 247,
i'J.
;., 07.
308, 323, 325.
251. ■
!U.
277.
203.
I., 407.
, 28'J.
, I., 131, 266,
i5.
39.
:53.
., 237.
', I., 195, 256,
, 270.
Df, I., 33.
37.
d-blooded, II.,
[]., 175.
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t'iiee
Abbott (Evelyn) - a, Is
(T. K.) .
(E. A.) -
Acland(A. H. U.)
Acton (Eliza) -
Adeane (J. H.)-
/Eschylus
Ainger (A. C.) -
Albemarla (Earl of)
Allen (Grant) -
AllinRham (W.)
(F.) - -
Andre (R.)
Anstey (E.)
Archer (W.)
Aristophanes -
Aristotle -
Armstrong (G. F
Savage)
i6
29
31
i8
i6
24
27
10
10
25
14
14
3
2S
iS
II
II
24
IS, 2g
21
12
21
8
18
18
OF AUTHORS
Page
, '4
8. 10
'4
■1,31
3
14
19
19, 2g
8, ig
3
;;^ — (E.J. Savage) 7,
Arnold (Sir Edwin) -
(Dr. T.) - .
Ashley (W. J.). . iC
Aster (J. J.) . . 21
A ti-hc :■ du Lys (.-till liar
«/;- - . . 26
Ayre (Rev. J.) - - 25
Hacon - - - " 14
Caden-Powell (B. H.) " ,
Bagehot (\V.) - 7, ,6, 19
Bagwell (R.) - . |
Bain (Alexander)
Baker (Sir S. W.)
Baldwin (C. S.)
Balfour (A. 1.)
Hall (J. T.) .
Baring-Gould (Rev
S.) - - .
Barnett (Rev. S. A. &
Mrs.) -
Baynes (T. S.) -
Beaconsfield(Earl of)
Beaufort (Duke of) -
Becker (Prof) -
Beeslv(A. H.) -
Bell (Mrs. Hugh) -
(Mrs. Arthur) -
Bent (J. Theodore) -
Besant (Sir Waller)-
Bickerdyke(J.)
Bicknell (A. C.)
Bird (R.) -
Black (Clementina) .
Blackwell (Elizabeth)
Bland (Mrs. Hubert)
Boase (Kev. C. \V.)-
Boedder (Rev. B.) -
Bosanquet (B.) - ,,
Boyd(Kev.A.K.H,)7,2g.3,
Brassey (Lady) - 8, g
- — (Lord) 3.8,11.16
Bray (C. and Mrs.) - 14
Bright (Rev. J. F.) - 3
AND EDITORS.
; 27. 2g
lO
29
21
O. II
18
'9
>9
8
3
II
8
3'
21
7
20
4
16
'4
I*£tfT£
Broadfoot (Major W.) 10
Briigger (W. C.)
Brookings (W.)
Browning (H. Ellen)
Buck (H. A.) -
Buckle (H. T.)-
Bull (T.) -
Burke (U. R.) -
Burrows (Montagu)
Butler (E. A.) - .
(Samuel) -
Cameron of Lochiel
Camperdown (Earl of)
Cannan (E.)
■ (F. Laura)
Chesney (.Sir G.)
Chisholm (G. G.) -
Cholmondeley-Pennell
(H.) - . .
Churchill (W, Spencer)
Cicero - - .
Clarke (Rev. R. F.) -
Clodd (Kd>vard)
Clutterbuck (W. ].)-
Cochrane lA.) •
Coleridge (S. T.) .
Comyn (L. N.)
Coni'ngton ( |ohn) -
Conybearu(Rev.W.J.)
& Howson (Dean)
Corbett (Julian S.) -
I'lige
'9
It
10
26
3.4
14
Corder (Annie)
Coventry (A.) -
Cox (Harding)
Crake (Rev. A. D.) .
Creiehton (Bishop) -
Crozier (J. B.) -
Crump (A.) - . .^^
Cuningham (G. C.) - tj
Curzon (Hon. G. N.) l
Cutts(Rev. E. L.) - 4
Dallinger (F. \V.) . ,
Davidson (W. L.) 14, 16, 12
Davies(|.E.) - I 'is
Ueland (.Mrs ) - - 21 26
Dent (C. T.) - ' I,
Dcploige - - . ,-
De Sails (Mrs.) . 28, 29
De Tocqueville (A.)-
Devas (C. S.) -
Dickinson (G. L.) -
Diderot -
Dougall (L.) -
Douglas (Sir G.)
Doweil (S.)
Doyle (A. Conan)
Dreyfus (Irma)
Du Bois (W. E. B.)-
Dufrerin( Marquis of)
Dunbar (Mary F.) -
Eardley-\Vi!mot(Cant.
S.)
3
16
4
21
21
- 19
- 16, 30
21
30
4
II
20
ii;. I I
i! i i
fit
h^ I
r*'.i
V il
hi
I , If;
i
'l
i ^ ^ 1
II;
■ I
1
INDEX
OF
PuRe
Ebrington (Viscount) 12
EgberKJ.C.) - - 18
Egglesttin (E.)- - 4
Ellis (J. 11) ■
(R. L.) •
AUTHORS
Pane
Jentry-Shee (R.) -
Jerome (Jerome K.) -
, Johnson (J. He). H.)
12 ! Jones (H. Bencel
14 ! (Owen Ci.)
30
Evans (Sir John)
F -ar (Dean) , .
Fitzwygram (Si.- F.) 10 ! Justinian
Folkard (H. t_.)
Ford (II.) -
Fowler (Edith H.)
Foxcrolt (H. C.)
Francis (Francis)
Freeman (Edward A.)
I-.)
Jordan (W
lowetl (Dr. B.)
- 16, 21 , Joyce (P. VV.) -
Frnude (James A.) 4, y, g. 21
Furncaux (W.) - 24
17
22
3"
25
9
16
17
5
14
32
M
5
II
15
4
9, II
•■■)
Gallon (W. F.)
Gardiner (Samuel R.)
Gathorne-Hardy(Hon.
A. E.)
Gerard (Dorothea) -
Gibbons (1. S.)
Gibson (Hon. H
(C. H.)
(Hon. W.)
Gilkes (A. H.) -
GilKH.j.)
GleiK (Rev. G. R.)
Goethe
Graham (P. A.) - n,
(G. F.) - -
Granby (Marquis of)
Grant (Sir A.) -
Graves (K. 1'.) -
Green (".. Hill)
Greville iC. C. F.) -
Grey (Marial
Grose (T. H.) -
Grove (F. C.) -
(Mrs. Lilly)
Gurdon (Lady Camillal
Gurney (Rev. A.)
GwilttJ.)-
Haggard (H. Rider) 21,
Hake (O.) -
Halliwell-I'hillipps(J.)
Hamlin (A. D. F.) -
Hammond (Mrs. J. H.)
Hamptr.n (Lady Laura)
Harding (S. H.)
Harte (Bret) -
Harting(J. E.)-
Hartwig (G.) -
Hassall (A.) -
Haweis (Rev. H. R.) ;
Heath (D. D.) -
Heathcote(J. M.and
C. G.)
Helmholtz (Hermann
von) -
Henderson (Lieut-
Col. G. F.)
Henry (W.)
Herbert (Col. Kenney)
Hewins (VV. A. S.) -
Hill (Svlvia M.)
Hillier'(G. Lacy) -
Hime (Lieut. -Col. H.
W. L.)
I"
4
12
2f)
12
'3
'4
32
21
22
8
'y
21
16
12
14
7
■4
4
26
14
Laughtrn (J.
Laurie (S. S.)
Kalisch (M. M.)
Kant (I.) -
Kaye(Sir J. W.) -
Kerr (Rev. J.) -
KilIick(Rev. A. H.)-
Kilchin (Dr. G. \V.)
Knight (E. F.) - 5,
KostliniJ.)
Ladd(G.T.) -
Lang (Andrew) 5. 10, II,
17, iS. 19, 20, 22,26, jL.
Lascelles (Hon. G.)
10, II
K.) -
.) - -
Lavard (Nina F.)
Leaf (Walter) -
Lear (H. L. Sidney) -
Leckv (W. E. H.) - 5
Lees (1. A.)
I.ejeune (Baron)
Leslie iT. E. CliiTc) -
Lester (L. V.) -
Levett-Veats (S.) -
Lewes (G. H.) -
Lillie(A.)-
Lindlev(I.)
Lod);e'(H. C.) -
Loftie(Rev. \V. J.)-
Longman (C. J.) 10,13,30
(F. W.) - -
(G. H.) - - ;i
Lowell (A. L.) -
Lubbock (Sir John) -
Lucan - -
Lutoslawski (\V.)
Lyall (Edna) -
Lvttelton (Hon. R. H.)
^— (Hon. A.) -
Lyiton (Earl of)
15
'9
MacAnhur (Miss E. A.) 17
Macaulay (Lord) 5, 6, 20
12 ; MacColl(C..-on) - 6
24 ' Macdonald (G.l - 9
iDr. G.l - -20,32
30 I Macfarren (Sir G. A.) 30
14 ! Mackail (J. W.) - iH
Mackinnon (J.) - 6
II Macleod (H. D.i - 16
Macpherson (Rev. H. A.)I2
AND EDI TO R S— continued.
Page
Moore (T.) - - 25
(Rev. Edward) - 14
Morgan (C. Lloyd) - 17
Morris (\V.) - 20, 22, 31
(Mowbray) - 11
Mulhall (M. G.) • 17
Munk(W.) - . r
Nansen (F.) - - 9
Nesbit (E.) - - 20
Nettleship (R. L.) - 14
Newman (Cardinal! - 22
Page
8
24
Hodgson (ShadworthH.) 14
Holroyd (Maria J.)
Hope (Anthony)
Horace - - - 18
Hornung (E. VV.) - 22
Houston (D. F.) - 4
Howell (G.) - - 16
Howitt (VV.) - - 9
Hudson (W. H.) - 24
HuefTer (F. M.) - 7
Hume (David) - - 14
Hunt (Rev. W.) - 4
Hutchinson (Horace G.) 11
Ingelow (Jean - 10, 26
James (W.) - - 14
Jefferies (Richard) - 30
Madden (D. H.) - 13
Maher (Rev. M.) - 16
Malle',on(Col.G. B.) 5
MandellolJ.) - - 17
Marbot (Baron de) - 8
Marshman (J. C.) - 7
Martineau (Dr. James) 32
Maskelyne(J. N.) - 13
Maunder (S.) - - 25
Max MuUer (F.)
8, 15, 16, 30, 32
(Mrs.)
May (Sir T. Erskine)
Meade (L. T.) -
Melville (G. J. Wh>te)
Merivale (Dean)
Merriman (H. S.)
Mill (Jamcii)
(John Stuart) - 15,
Milner(G.)
Miss Molly {A lit horof)
Moflat (D.)
Molesworth (Mrs.) -
Monck(W. H. S.) -
Montague (F. C.) -
Montagu (Hon. John
Scott)
Oglc(VV,)- - - iS
Oliphant (Mrs.) - 22
Oliver (W. D.) - 9
Onslow (Earl oO - "
Orchard (T. N.) • 31
Osbjurne (L) - - 23
Par<((\V.) - - 13
Parr (Louisa) - - :6
Pajne-Gallwey (Sir
H.) - - -11,13
Peek (Hedley) - - n
Pembroke (Earl of) - n
Phillipps-Wolley(C.) 10,22
Pleydell-Bouverie(E.O.)ii
Pole (W.) - . - 13
Pollock (VV. H.) - II
Poole (VV.H. and Mrs.) 29
Poore (G. V.) - - 31
Potter (J.) - - 16
Praeger (S. Rosamond) 26
Prevost (C.) - - n
Pritchett (R. T.) - 11
Proctor (K. A.) 13,24, 28, 31
Quill (A. VV.) - - 18
Quillinan (Mrs.) - 9
Quintana (A.) - - 22
Raine (Rev. James) - 4
Ransome (C>ril) - 3
Rawlinson (Rev.
Canon) - - 8
Khoades(J.) - - 18
Rhoscomyl (O.) - 23
Ribblesdale (Lord) - 13
Rich (A.) . - - 18
Richardson (C.l - 12
Kichman (I. IJ.) - 6
Kickaby (Rev. John) 16
(Rev. Joseph) - 16
Ridley (Annie E.) - 7
(SirE.) - - 18
Riley (J. VV.) - - 20
Roget (Peter M.) - 16, 25
Rolfsen (N.) - - 8
Romanes (G. J.)
8, 15, 17, 20, 32
; (Mrs.) - - 8
'■ Ronalds (A.) - - 13
i Roosevelt (T.) - ■ 4
i Rossetli (Alaria Fran-
cesca) - - - 31
I (VV. M.) - - 20
1 Russell (Bertrand) - 17
I (Alys) - - 17
Sainlsbury (G.) - 12
Sandars (T. C.) - 14
I Schreiner (S. C. Cron-
wright) - - 10
Seehohm (F.) - - 6, 8
9 Selous (F. C.) - - 10
C Selss(A. M.) - - 19
26 Sewell (Elizabeth M.) 23
22 Shakespeare - - 20
6 Shand (A I.) - - 12
22 Sharpe (R. R.) - - 6
15 Sllcafiiiaii (M.) - ^•"
17 Sinclair (A.) - - n
30 Smith (R. Bosworth) 6
26 (T. C.) - - 4
13 (VV.P. Haskett) 9
26 Soderini (Count E.)- 17
15 Solovyofl(V. S.) - 31
6 Sophocles - - 18
Soulsby(Lucy H.) 26.31
'4
) 11,12
6
30
II
II
26
15
6
Sprigge (S. Squire)
Stanley (Bishop)
Steel (A. G.) - - 10
(J.H.) - - 10
Stephen (Leslie) - 9
Stephens (H. Morse) 6
Stevens (U. W.) - 31
Stevenson (R. L.) - 23, 26
Stock (St. George) - 15
'Stonehenge' - - 10
Storr (F.) -
Stuart-VVortley(A.J.
Stubbsd, VV.)-
Sturdy (K.T.) -
Sullolk & Berkshire
(Earlnl) -
Sullivan (Sir E.)
-(J.F.) - -
Sully (James) •
Sutherland (A. and G.)
. (Alex.) - -15.31
Sultner (B. von) - 23
Swinburne (A. j.) - 15
Symcs (J. E.) "- - 17
Tacitus - - - 18
Tavlor (Col. Meadows) 17
— '- (Una) - - 23
Tebbutt (C. G.) - 11
Thompson (N. G.) - 13
ThornhilKVV.J.) - 18
Todd (A.) - - - 6
Toynbee (A.) - - 17
Trevelyan(SirG.O.) 7
(C. P.) - - 17
Trollope (Anthony) - 23
Tupper (J. L.) - - 20
Turner (H. G.) - 31
TyndalKJ.) - - 9
Tyrrell (K. V.)- - 18
Upton (F. K. and
Bertha) - - 26
Spedding (J.)
Vaut;han (Cardinal)- 17
Verney (Frances P.
and Margaret M.) 8
Vincent (I.E.)- - 17
Virgil . - - IS
Vivekananda (Swami) 32
Vivian (Herbert) - 9
VVakeman (H. O.) - 6
VValford (L. 11.) - 23
Walker (Jane H.) - 29
Wallas (Ciraham) - 8
Walpole (Sir Spencer) 6
Walrond (Col. H.) - 10
VValsinghani(Lord)- n
; Waller (J.) - - 8
I Wanyick (Countess of) ,1
VValson(A. E. T.)
10, 11,12. 23
Waylen (H. S. H.) - 30
Webb (Mr. and Mrs.
Sidney) - - 17
(T. Iv.) - - 19
i Weber (A.) - - 15
VVeir (Capt. R.) - n
I Wevman (Stanley) - 23
VVhately(Archbishop) 14. 15
; (E.'Jane) - - 16
Whishav(F. J.) - 23
White (VV. Hale) - 20
Whitelaw (R.) - - 18
Wilcocksd.C.) - 13
Wilkins (G.) - - iS
Willich(C. M.) - 25
VVitham (T. M.) - "
W,-.nd;Rrv. J. G.) - 25
Woodgate (W. B.) - 10
Wood-Martin (W.G.) 6
Woods (Margaret L.) 2i
Wordsworth (Elizabeth) 26
(William) - - w
VVylie (J.H.)- - «
' Vouatt (W.) - - '0
i5
7, 14 Zeller (E.)
RS — continued.
Page
irigge (S. Squire) - 8
aniev (Bishop) - 24
ctl (A. G.) - - 10
-(J.H.) - - 10
ephen (Leslie) - 9
ephens (H, Morse) 6
evens (U. W.) - 31
evenson (R. L.) - 23, 26
ock (St. George) - 15
ptonehenge' - - 10
orr 1 1-'.) - - - 14
uart-\Vortley(A.J.) 11,12
ubbs(I. W.)- - 6
urdy (1-:.T.) - • 30
itlolli iSi Derkshire
(Earlol) - - II
niivnn (Sir E.)
-(J.l'.l ■ -
illy (James) -
jlher'land(A.andG.)
— (Alex.) - - 15.
jttner (H. von)
.vinburne (A. j.) -
.incs (J. E.) -
atilus
avlor (Col. Meadows)
— (Unal
ebbutt (C. G.)
hompson (N. G.) -
hornhilKW. J.) -
odd (A.) -
oynbee (A.) -
reveUan (SirG.O.)
— (C. P.) -
rollope (.-Xnthony) -
upper (J. I,.) -
urncr (H. Ci.)
vndalKJ.)
yrrelUK. Y.)-
pton iF. K. and
Bertha)
aui,'han (Cardinal) -
erney (Frances P.
and Margaret M.)
incent (I. F..) -
ir^il
ivekananda (Swami)
ivian (Herbert)
MESSRS.
LONGMANS^O^^S^O^RO AND GENERAL WORKS.
"7
IS
32
9
V'akeman (H. O.) - 6
Valford (I.. B.) - 23
Valkcr (Jane H.) - 29
Vallas (Graham) - 8
Valpole (Sir Spencer) 6
Valrond (Col. H.) - 10
Valsint;hani (Lord)- n
Valler (J.) - - 8
Varwick (Countess of) ;,i
Valson(A. E. T.)
10, 11,12. 23
Vaylen(H. S. H.) - 30
rVebb (Mr. and Mrs.
Sidney) - - 17
(T. K.) - - 19
Veber{A.) - - 15
Veir (Capt. R.) - 11
A'evman (Stanley) - 23
.Vh'ately( Archbishop) 14, 15
(E. jane) - - '6
Vhishav(F. J.) - 23
,Vhite (VV. Hale) - 20
.Vhitelaw (R.) - - 18
A'ilcocksd. C.) ■ 13
.Vilkins (G.) - - 18
A-illich (C. M.) - 25
,Vitham (T. M.) - "
.V.-..-.H IRrv. J. n.) - 25
A'uodgate (W. 13.) ■ ">
A'ood-Martin(W.G.) 6
A'oods ( Margaret L.) 2 ;
iVordsworth (Elizabeth) 26
(William)- - 20
tVylie (J. H.) - - 6
('ouatt (W.) - - ">
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