3 THE MORAL ECONOMY BY RALPH BARTON PERRY Assistant Professor of Philosophy in Harvard University OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1909 COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS PREFACE THIS little book is the preliminary sketch of a system of ethics. Its form differs from that of most contemporary books on the subject because of the omission of the traditional controversies. I have attempted to study morality directly, to derive its conceptions and laws from an analysis of life.JJ I have made this attempt because, in the firsTplace, I believe that theoretical ethics is seri- ously embarrassed by its present emphasis on the history and criticism of doctrines; by its failure to resort to experience, where without more ado it may solve its problems on their merits. ^But, in the second place, I hope that by appealing to ex- perience and neglecting scholastic technicalities, I may connect ethical theory with every-day re- flection on practical matters. Morality is, with- out doubt, the most human and urgent of all topics of study; and I should like, if possible, to make it appear so. The references which I have embodied in the notes are intended to serve the English reader as an introduction to accessible and untechnical lit- erature on the subjects treated in the several chap- viii PREFACE ters. These chapters coincide with the main divisions of ethical inquiry: Goodness, Duty, Virtue, Progress, Culture, and Religion. And . although so brief a treatment of so large a pro- ' x gramme is impossible without sacrifice of thor- oughness, it does provide both a general survey of the field, and a varied application of certain fundamental ideas. RALPH BARTON PERRY. CAMBRIDGE, 1909. TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER I PAGE MORALITY AS THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE i I. THE GENERAL CLAIMS OF MORALITY . I The practical necessity of morality, i. The interplay of dogmatism and scepticism, 4. The fundamental character of morality, 7. II. GOODNESS IN GENERAL 9 The dependence of value on life, 9. Definition of the simpler terms of value. Goodness: the fulfilment of in- terest, ii. "Good" and "good for," 12. m. MORAL GOODNESS 13 The moral organization of life, 13. Definition of the terms of moral value. Moral goodness : the fulfilment of an economy of interests, 15. Moral goodness and pleas- ure, 1 6. Rightness or virtue, 18. Morality and life, 19. IV. MORALITY AND NATURE .... 2O The alleged artificiality of morality, 20. Morality and the struggle for existence, 21. Morality and adapta- tion, 22. Morality is natural if life is, 24. V. MORALITY AND CONFLICT .... 24 Morality and competitive struggle. Morality the con- dition of strength, 24. The value of conflict, 25. The elimination of conflict, 26. Morality and the love of life. 27. VL THE DIGNITY AND LUSTRE OF MO- RALITY 28 The effect of war on sentiment and the imagination, 28. Real power is conductive, not destructive or repress- ix CONTENTS ivc, ^y. Moral heroism, 31. The saving or provident character of morality, 32. Morality and the consum- mation of life, 33. CHAPTER II THE LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL . . 34 I. THE STAND-POINT OF RATIONALISM AND INDIVIDUALISM .... 34 Modern individualism, 34. Distinguished from scepti- cism, 36. The individual as the organ of knowledge, 37. Moral individualism as a protest against convejx- tion, 39. Duty as the rational ground of action, 40. Reasonableness a condition of the consciousness of duty, 41. H. THE LOGIC OF PRUDENCE .... 43 Prudence as elementary, 43. Interest, action, and good- ness, 43. The alleged relativity of goodness, 45. The conflict of interests solved by conciliation, 48. The limits of prudence, 49. III. THE LOGIC OF PREFERENCE AND PURPOSE 50 The adoption of new interests and the problem of pref- erence, 50. A hypothetical solution of the problem, 51. Solution in the concrete case through the organization of a purpose, 53. The principle of the objective validity of interests, 54. The principle of the quantitative basis of preference, 55. IV. THE LOGIC OF IMPARTIALITY AND JUSTICE 57 The private interest, 57. The personal factor negligible in counting interests, 58. The refutation of egoism. The first proposition of egoism, 59. The second prop- osition of egoism, 61. Impartiality as a part of justice, 63. Justice as imputing finality to the individual, 64. The equality of rational beings as organs of truth, 64. Summary of justice, 66. CONTENTS xi PAGE V. THE LOGIC OF GOOD-WILL ... 67 All interests are entitled to consideration, 67. Good- will and the growth of new interests, 67. VI. DUTY AND THE IMAGINATION . . 69 The logical imagination, 69. Rationalism and incentive to action, 70. Rationalism and faith, 71. CHAPTER III THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 72 I. THE VIRTUES AND THEIR CLAS- SIFICATION 72 Summary of .'he content and logic of moral value, 72. Virtues as verified rules of life, 73. The material and formal aspects of morality, 74. Materialism and form- alism due to exaggeration, 75. The general impor- tance of the conflict between the material and formal motives, 76. Duty identified with the formal motive, 76. Formalism less severely condemned, 77. The five economies of interest, 77. Summary of virtues and vices, 79. Table, 81. II. THE ECONOMY OF THE SIMPLE IN- TEREST The simple interest not a moral economy, 82. Satis- faction the root -value, and intelligence the elementary virtue, 82. Incapacity, 83. Overindulgence the first form of materialism, 84. It is due to lack of foresight, 85. Or to the complexity of interests, 86. Overindul- gence as the original sin, 86. III. THE RECIPROCITY OF INTERESTS . 87 Prudence as a principle of organization, 87. Modera- tion and thrift, 87. Honesty, veracity, and tact of the prudential form, 88. The inherent value of the pru- dential economy. Individual and social health, 88. Temperance and reason, 90. * Prudential formalism, or asceticism, 92. Asceticism illustrated by the Cynics, 92. Prudential materialism or sordidness, 94. Aimless- ness or idleness, 94. xii CONTENTS PAGE IV. THE INCORPORATION OF INTERESTS . 95 Purpose as a principle of organization. Its intel- lectual character, 95. The virtues subsidiary to pur- pose, 95. Truthfulness in the purposive economy, 96. The value of achievement, 97. The formalistic error of sentimentalism, 98. Deferred living, 98. National- ism, 99. Egoism and bigotry as types of materialism. The pride of opinion, 100. Egoism and bigotry involve injustice, 103. The meaning of injustice, 103. V. THE FRATERNITY OF INTERESTS . . 105 Justice as a principle of organization, 105. Justice con- ditions rational intercourse, 105. Discussion, freedom, and tolerance, 106. Anarchism and scepticism, 107. Laissez-faire, 108. Justice and materialism. Worldli- ness, no. Ancient worldliness due to lack of pity, no. Modern worldliness due to lack of imagination, in. VI. THE UNIVERSAL SYSTEM OF INTER- ESTS 112] The economy of good-will, 112. Good-will as the condition of real happiness. Paganism and Christianity, 113. Merely formal good-will is mysticism, 1 16. Mys- ticism perverts life by denying this world, 118. Quiet- ism, 119. Mystical perversion of moral truth, 120. VH. SUMMARY 121 The interworking of the formal and the material prin- ciples, 121. Importance of the formal principle. Man- ners and worship, 121. CHAPTER IV THE MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS .... 123 I. THE GENERAL THEORY OF PROGRESS 123 The philosophy of history, 123. The meaning of prog- ress, 125. Progress and the quantitative basis of pref- erence, 127. The method of superimposition as a test of progress, 127. CONTENTS xiii H. THE EXTERNAL AND INTERNAL PRIN- CIPLES OF PROGRESS 130 The external principle: the pressure of an unfavorable environment, 130. The external and the internal prin- ciple, 131. The internally progressive type of society. ^ The importance of discussion, 132. Rationality the internal principle of progress, 134. The positive mo- tive: constructive reform, 134. Disinterested" reflection and the man of affairs, 136. Success depends on moral capacity, 137. The negative motive: revolution, 139. Christianity as a social revolution, 140. The French Revolution, 141. Dependence of progress on the his- torical connectedness of human life, 143. III. CONSERVATISM AND RADICALISM . 144 Conservatism values the existing order, 144. Progress requires the maintenance and use of order, 145. The real radical not the sceptic but the rationalist, 145. The justification of the radical, 146. IV. PROGRESS IN THE INSTITUTION OF GOVERNMENT 147 Institutions are permanent moral necessities, 147. Gov- ernment as the interest both of the weak and of the strong, 148. The moral necessity of government, 150. The variable and progressive factor in government, 151. The principle of rationality in government, 152. The benefits and cost of government in the ancient military monarchy, 152. Solidarity of interest in the Greek and Roman oligarchies, 154. Advance in liber- ality in Athenian institutions, 156. The development of modern institutions, 157. The modern idea of de- mocracy, 158. Summary of the modern state. It is 1 1 territnal and*tmpersonal, 160. The representative method, 160. Empfiasis on internal policy and inter- national peace, 162. V. THE QUALITY OF CONTEMPORARY LIB- ERALISM 163 Democracy based not on pity but on enlightenment, 163. The respect for the opinion of those most inter- ested, 164. The spirit of modern justice, 165. Sensi- tiveness to life, 166. The allowance for growth, 167. xiv CONTENTS PAGE The individual and the crowd, 168. Hopefulness and the bias of maturity, 169. The work done and the work to do, 170. CHAPTER V THE MORAL CRITICISM OF FINE ART . . 171 I. THE JUSTIFICATION OF THE MORAL CRITICISM OF ART 171 The higher activities of civilization, 171. The attempt to apply aesthetic standards to life, 172. The claim of art to exemption from moral criticism is based on mis- apprehension. Morality not a special interest, but the fundamental interest, 174. Morality does not substi- tute its canons for those of art, 175. II. DEFINITION OF ART AND THE ES- THETIC INTEREST 176 Art as the adaptation of the environment to interest, 176. Industrial art and fine art, 177. The aesthetic interest: the interest in apprehension, 179. The inter- est in sensation and perception, 181. The emotional interest, 182. Instinct and emotion in the aesthetic ex- perience. Poetry and music, 183. The interest in discernment, 185. The representative element in art exemplified in Greek sculpture, 185. And in Italian painting of the Renaissance, 187. Levels and blendings of the aesthetic interest, 189. The moral criticism of the aesthetic interest, 190. m. THE SELF-SUFFICIENCY OF THE AES- THETIC INTEREST 192 The aesthetic interest is capable of continuous develop- ment, 192. And is resourceful, 192. But tends on that account to be narrow and quiescent, 192. IV. THE PERVASIVENESS OF THE AES- THETIC INTEREST 194 The aesthetic interest may supply interest where there is none, or enhance other interests, 194. But it must not be allowed to replace other interests, 195. CONTENTS xv PAGE V. THE VICARIOUS FUNCTION OF THE /ESTHETIC INTEREST .... 197 Other interests may be represented by the aesthetic interest, 197. The danger of confusing vicarious fulfil- ment with real fulfilment, 198. And of being aesthetic- ally satisfied with failure, 199. VI. ART AS A MEANS OF STIMULATING ACTION ......... 201 Art is a source of motor excitation, 201. But such ex- citation is morally indeterminate, 201. Such influences must be selected with reference to their effecton-moral purpose, 202. VII. ART AS A MEANS OF FIXING IDEAS 203 The higher practical ideas have no other concrete em- bodiment than art, 203. Art both fixes ideas and arouses sentiment in their behalf, 204. But if art is to serve this end it must be true, 205. Untruth in art, 206. Uni- versality and particularity in art, 207. Art may invest ideas with a fictitious value, 208. VIII. THE LIBERALITY OF THE AES- THETIC INTEREST ..... 209 Art is unworldly, 209. The aesthetic intercourse pro- motes social intercourse on a high plane, 210. IX. CONCLUSION ........ 212 l, art may make the en- vironment harmonious with morai CHAPTER VI THE MORAL JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION . 214 I. THE DEFINITION OF RELIGION . . 214 The sound practical motive in religion, 214. Religion as belief, 216. Summary definition of religion, 218. xvi CONTENTS PAGE II. THE TESTS OF RELIGION .. . . . 2l8 The measure of religion, extensive and intensive, 218. The test of truth the fundamental test, 220. The thera- peutic test, and its confusion of the issue, 222. The two forms of the truth test, cosmological and ethical, 224. The working of these critical principles, 226. Cosmology and ethics are independent of religion, 228. The optimistic bias. 231. Summary of religious de- velopment, 231. III. SUPERSTITION 232 The prudential character of superstition, 232. The ethical idea in primitive religion, 233. The cosmo- logical idea, 234. The method of primitive religion, 235. Superstition in Christianity, 235. The ethical and cosmological correction of superstition, 236. IV. TUTELARY RELIGION 237 The deity identified with the purpose of the worshipper, 237. The national religion of the Assyrians and Egyp- tians, 238. The correction of tutelary religion, 239. V. PHILOSOPHICAL RELIGION. META- PHYSICAL IDEALISM 241 Religion formally enlightened, 241. Metaphysical and moral idealism, 242. The inherent difficulty in meta- physical idealism, 242. The swing from formalism to materialism. Pessimism, other -worldliness, mysticism, panlogism and aesthetic idealism, 243. /Esthetic ideal- ism falsifies experience and discredits mofaT* distinc- tions, 246. VI. MORAL IDEALISM 248 Moral idealism reflects moral judgment, 248. Evil real but not deliberately perpetrated. The knowledge of evil, 249. The ground of moral idealism, 252. VII. THE GENERIC VALUE OF RELIGION . 252 Religion morally inevitable, 252. The value of the religious generalization of life, 253. The immediate reward of service, 254. Religion and moral enthusi- asm, 254. Culture and religion, 255. NOTES 257 INDEX 263 THE MORAL ECONOMY CHAPTER I MORALITY AS THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE IN the words with which this book is inscribed, Bishop Butler conveys with directness and grav- ity the conviction that morality is neither a mys- tery nor a convention, but simply an observance of the laws ofjrovident living. "Things and afctions afe^wTiaMrhey are, and the consequences of them will be what they will be : why then should we desire to be deceived?" 1 This appeal, com- monplace enough, but confident and true, sounds the note with which through all that follows I shall hope to keep in unison. It is because he professes to believe that moral- ity is an imposture that must be smuggled into society behind the back of reason, that Nietsche makes a merit of its dulness. "It is desirable," he says, "that as few people as possible should reflect upon morals, and consequently it is very desirable that morals should not some day be- come interesting!" 2 He confesses that he sees no occasion for alarm! But the dulness of 2 THE MORAU ECONOMY morality testifies only to itsJaomeliness and an- tiquity. For to be moral is simply to be intelli- gent^ to be right-minded and open-minded in the unavoidable business of living. Morality is a collection of formulas and^models based solidly on experience, of acts and their conse- uences; it oilers trie most competent advice as to proceed with an enterprise, whether large or small. It is the theory and technique which underlies the art of conduct; that " master- workman," by whom kings reign and princes decree justice; possessed by the Lord in the be- ginning of his way, and whom to hate is to love death. It is worth while to remark and proclaim such a conviction as this only because mankind has so treacherous a memory, and so fatuous a habit of disowning its most precious and dearly won pos- sessions. Cardinal truths are periodically overlaid with sophistication, blended with tentative opinion, and identified with the instruments of the day. There results a confusion of mind that fails to distinguish the essence from the accident, and 'aims to destroy where there is need to rectify. Because government is clumsy and costly, it is proposed to abolish government; because edu- cation is artificial and constraining, society is exhorted to return to the easy course of nature; metaphysics must be swept away, because the THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 3 metaphysics of some time or school has outlived its usefulness; and morality, because it is hard or tiresome, must give way to the freedom_ahd romance of no morality. Such blind and irre- sponsible agitation is a perpetual menace to the balance of impressionable and unsteady minds, if not indeed to the work of civilization. Now it is safe to say that these venerable in- stitutions have arisen in answer to fixed needs; needs implied in life as a general and constant situation. There is no other way of accounting for them. They have been tolerated only be- cause they yield a steady return. Their loss would be a catastrophe which mankind, obedient to the necessities of life, would fall at once to repairing. Institutions are the very body of civilization; and while they may grow and change without limit, if they be abruptly destroyed civil- ization must suffer paralysis in some vital part. At once the most direct and striking proof of this lies in the fact that the revolutionist, whether he be propagandist or man of action, invariably commits himself, and ends by executing the very function he denied. At the moment when he comes to close quarters, and actually engages the object of his attack, he is swept into some current of endeavor that has from the most ancient times been pressing steadily toward the solution of a problem that lies in the centre of 4 THE MORAL ECONOMY ' the path of life. He straightway commences himself to govern, educate, speculate, -or moral- ize] And the more patiently he labors, the greater his respect for the vested wisdom of his time. Whereas he first sought utterly to demolish, he is now content to make his little difference and hand on the work. In the end every purely de- structive programme is inevitably futile, because it goes against the grain. For all conduct is constructive in motive, and forward in direction. BufllUvv vwisteful is the momentary fury waste- ful of high passion and distinguished capacity, and how mystifying to the lay intelligence! It may, of course, be said that there is method in this madness; since man's twofold blindness, his dogmatism and jhis scepticism, his immo- bility ancHiis wantonness, term m the long run to neutralize one another. But with the per- spective required for such consolation, neither the agencies of destruction nor those of obstruc- tion preserve the same heroic proportions which they are wont to assume in their day. They seem to be engaged in a sort of by-play, and wear an unmistakable aspect of childishness. Lo! Mankind has been a long time on his way, and endures hardily the prospect of endless leagues to go. He is the Patient Plodder, symbol of mature intelligence. And he has in his com- pany two small boys who exhibit an incorrigible THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 5 naughtiness. The one of these is called Destruc- tion; his other names being Cynic, Sceptic, and Nihilist. He it is that mocks and cries, "Go up, thou bald head! go up, thou bald head!" Man- kind does not curse him in the name of the Lord, but invites him to play with another small boy, named Obstruction, and whose other names are Vested Interest, Reactionary, and Pedant. This one, whenever Manklhd~will lead hiiRy titgs in his heere or lies down -in his tracks; until, pricked and goaded ^bjThijTplay fellow, he at length gets up and scrambles after. And so these two keep ever by thejsjde or N atthe heelfrefMankind, whom they neifnerje'ad norcfeflect from his course. Paradox serves to dislodge prejudice; and blasphemy may rudely but effectually bring to their senses those who have mistaken the hard- ness of their hearts for loyalty, and their easy default for success. But practical wisdom be- longs only to those who "proceed unwaveringly out of the past and into the future, correcting mistakes when they may, conserving the good al- ready won, and making new conquests. It may be remarked, and should be readily granted, that patient plodding is less piguant than the by-play cTlnertia anoTrevolt. The spirit of Nietsche is doubtless even now yawning might- ily at such tedious moralizing; fresh proof of the "dull, gloomy seriousness," the hopeless 6 THE MORAL ECONOMY stupidity of our sublunary virtue. I believe that Nietsche has frankly confessed the real grievance of his class of mischief makers. They are im- patient and easily bored; while the business of establishing a healthful and vigorous society is complicated, tortuous, and slow. Their talent for letters, their love of vivid pictures, sharp con- trasts, and concise dramatic situations, cannot adapt itself to the real bulk and complexity of life. Civilization is too promiscuous, too pro- longed and monotonous, for these rare spirits. And they have their sure reward; for they ease the tension of effort, supplying a recreative re- lease from its pangs under the flattering guise of higher truth. All the impatience and playful- ness in the world conspires with them. But as one of the demos of moral dullards, I get no little comfort from apply ing to l^ietsclie and Ibsen, and to certain prophet litterateurs of England, Burke's reproof of Lord Bolingbroke. When men find that something can be said in favor of what, on the very proposal, they have thought utterly indefensible, they grow doubtful of their own reason; they are thrown into a sort of pleasing sur- prise; they run along with the speaker, charmed and captivated to find such a plentiful harvest of reasoning, where all seemed barren and unpromising. . . . There is a sort of gloss upon ingenious false- hoods that dazzles the imagination, but which neither belongs to, nor becomes the sober aspect of truth. ... In such cases, the writer has a certain fire and THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 7 alacrity inspired into him by a consciousness, that let it fare how it will with the subject, his ingenuity will be sure of applause. 3 It is safe to accept morality as one accepts agriculture, navigation^ constitutional govern- ment, or any other tried solution of an unavoid- able problemT THere is false opinion here as elsewhere, and hollow convention is not infre- quently paraded as duty and wisdom; but the nucleus of morality is verified truth, the precipF"" tafe of mankind's prolonged experiment In living. 1 do not propose,"howeVet', 10 be balisfied rrflh so modest a claim. It might still be contended that morality is doubtless true so far as it goes, or well enough for those who care for it; but that it will scarcely concern other than the more coarse-grained and less adventurous minds. It is customary to associate high wisdom_with the pursuit of some special^ interest, for its own sake, and under ncfwlcler law than a sort of professional etiquette or code of honor. Business is business, art is art, truth is truth, and for one who cares to "go in for it," virtue is for virtue's sake. Those who ri V ' T ;- r| not object to the moralist, provideH h n>"s not intrude. But if he applies his rules to oilier uian his own personal or do- mestic affairs, he is berated as an impertinent busybody who is talking of things he does not understand. Now I venture to assert that the 8 THE MORAL ECONOMY moralist in the nature of the case can never be impertinent, though he may be impolite or even insulting. He can never be impertinent because, contrary to the formula of the day, there is no sru;JTjfojpg fl.<; vjruip for virtue's sake. MbTality is the one interest that virtually represents ^ail interests. It is the interest of every *m*an in the general tests of success and failure, and in the maintenance of the field or medium of all inter- ests. There is no enterprise which, if conducted efficiently, is not a verification of moral rules; there is no enterprise which does not receive and transmit the flow of life that circulates through the moral system at large. To be righteously indignant is to protest passionately in behalf of the whole good, and against the clumsy and in- advertent evil. To this morality owes its uni- versal support, its invincible finality. It need never be apologetic, because it holds no brief; it advocates no measure except the carrying through to the end of what is virtually undertaken by all parties to the adventure of life. I It follows that no man can exempt himself from / moral liability. He is irrevocably committed to / life, and can neglect the laws of life only at his I absolute or ultimate peril. What does it profit a / man to gain a bit here and a bit there, if he is ^ foreordained to loss on the whole ? If he squan- ders his moral patrimony he has no means of THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 9 recouping his fortunes; he has wasted his sup- porting vitality and forfeited his general livelihood. And now if this be true it is of more than pass- ing or sentimental importance. It needs to be vividly realized if morality is to make its saving appeal. Morality is only discredited through being sanctioned; its proper merits are more eloquent than its friends and borrowed auspices. If it can be simply proclaimed as it is, it cannot be denied. This is one of the things which I under- take to do. But to understand what morality really is, to recognize its claims, is to understand also its application, its critical pertinence to art and religion, to all the great and permanent undertakings of men. Such application I shall in the later chapters undertake to suggest, partly as an amplification of the meaning of morality, and partly as a programme of further reflection looking tnwarr] a ^m^^4-|4i44^ft|^ nf hl>tT I can do no more in the present chapter than broadly present the structure of morality, leav- ing the logic of its appeal and its more important applications for the chapters which follow. ( L^i The moral affair of men, a prolonged and complicated historical enterprise, is thrown into historical relief upon the background of a me- chanical cosmos. Natyrg^afrnnterpreted by the \ io THE MORAL ECONOMY inorganic sciences, presents a spectacle of im- passivity. It moves, transforms, and radiates, on every scale and in all its gigantic range of temporal and spatial distance, utterly without loss or gain of value. One cannot rightly at- tribute to such a world even the property of neglect or brutality. Its indifferAice is absolute. Such a world is devoid qfjyalue because of the elimination of thejiias q|Jife. Where nojnter- e^t is at stake, changes can make no pracucal difference; where no claims are made, there can be neither fortune nor calamity, neither comedy nor tragedy. There is no object of applause or resentment, if there be nothing in whose behalf such judgments may be urged. But with the introduction of Hfe, .^ven the least particle of it, the ru3e^rbltoiifro^o^a^m that ever made the venture, nature becomes -^flgw system with a new centre. The organism in- herits the earth; the mechanisms of nature become its environment, its resources in the struggle to keep for a time body and soul together. The mark of life is partiality for jtself^ If any- thing irfoTJecflme 1 aft object oi solicitude, it must first announce itself through acting in its own be- half. With life thus instituted there begins the \ long struggle of interest against inertia and in- \ differencer that war of-wbich civilization itself j is only the latest and most triumphant phase. )THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE n Nature being thus enlivened, the simpler terms of value now find a meaning. A living thing must suffer calamities or achieve successes; and since its fortunes are good or bad in the most elementary sense that can be attached to these conceptions, it is worth our while to consider the matter with some care. An interest,, or unit of life, is essentially an orgajoizaMeir^riick consist- ently acts for^|s own prfisgrya.Hnnl It deals with its environment in^Tich wiseas to keep itself intact and bring itself to maturity; appropriating what it needs, and avoiding or destroying what threatens it with injury. The imprest so functions as to supply itself with the means whereby it may' continue to exist and ^ttn3roS~ This is the prin- ciple of action which may be generalized from its behavior, and through which it may be distin- guished within the context of nature. Now the term interest being construed in this sense, we may describe goodness as fulfilment of interest. The description will perhaps refer more clearly to human life, if for the term iyiixcst we sub- stitute the term desire. GoocB Hpould then consist in the satisfaction of amK. In other words, things are good because desired,* not de- sired because goocT T6"~5ay -thaTWne desires things because one needs them, or likes them, or admires them, is redundant; in the end one simply (teires certain things, that is, one pos- 12 THE MORAL ECONOMY sesses an interest or desire which they fulfil. There are as many varieties of goodness as there are varieties__of intprggt; and to the variety of interest there is no end. Strictly speaking, goodness belongs to an interest's actual state of fulfilment. This will consist in an activity, exerciseb! by the interest, but employing the environment. With a slight shift of emphasis, goodness in this^absolute sense will attach either to interest in so far as nourished by objects, as in the case of hunger appeased, or to objects in so far as assimilated to interest, as in the case of food consumed. It follows that goodness in a rehyj^e^ejise, in the sense of "good for," will attach to whatever conduces to good in the absolute sense; that is, actions and objects, such as agriculture and bread, that lead directly or indirectly to the fulfilment of interest. But "good" and "good for," like their opposites "bad" and "bad for," are never sharply distinguishable, because the imagina- tion anticip^^the fortunes of interests, and transforms~H Btemote contingencies into actual victory or dewK. Through their organization into Itfe^ the mechanisms of nature tBu^take on the generic quality^ of good and eviL Triey either serve interests or oppose them; and must be employed avoided and rejected accord- THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 13 ingly. Events which once indifferently happened are now objects of hope and fear, or integral parts of success and failure. m But that organization of life which denotes the presftnrft of nr^praiiTy has not yet been denned. The isolated interest extricates itself from mechan- ism; and, struggling to maintain itself, does, it is true, divide the world into good and bad, according to its uses. But the moral drama opens^ only jvhen interesl_jneets-^terest ; when the path of one unit of, life js crossed by that of another. Every interest is compelled to recog- nize other interests, on the one hand as parts of its environment, and on the other hand as part- ners in the general enterprise of life. Thus there is evolved the moral idea, or jrinciple of action, according to which interest allies itself with interest in order to be free-handed and power- ful against the common hereditary enemy, the heavyhie_rtia and the incessant wear of the cos- mo'sTrhrough morality a plurality of interests becomes an economy, or community of interests. I have thus far described the situation as though it were essentially a social one. But while, historically speaking, it iscToubtless al- ways social in one of its aspects, the essence of the matter is as truly represented within the 14 THE MORAL ECONOMY group of interests sustained by a single organism, wEenT these, for Example, are unileTliian indi- viduaTTrfe^purpoSB: Muialil^ is Lhal procedure in which several interestsT^wTiether they involve one or more physical organisms, are so adjusted as to function as one interest, more massive in its support, and more coherent and united in the common task of fulfilment. Interests morally combined are not destroyed or superseded, as are V mechanical forces, by their resultant. The power of the higher interest is due to a summing of incentives emanating from the contributing in- terests; it can perpetuate itself only through keep- ing these interests alive. The most spectacular instance of this is gtfvfrnment, which functions as one, and yet derives its power from an enor- mous variety of different interests, which it must foster and conserve as the sources of its own life. In all cases the strength of morality must lie in its liberality and breadth. , Morality is simply the forced choice between suicide and Abundant life. When interests war against one UfTbtheT "they render the project of life, at best a hard adventure, futile and abortive. I hold it to be of prime importance for the under- standing of this matter to observe that from the poorest and crudest beginnings, morality is the massing of interests against a reluctant cosmos. Life has been attended with discord and mutual THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 15 destruction, but this is its failure. The first grumbling truce between savage enemies, the first collective enterprise, the first peaceful com- munity, the first restraint on gluttony for the sake of health, the first suppression of ferocity for the sake of a harder blow struck in cold blood, these were the first victories of morality. They were moral victories in that they organized life into more comprehensive unities, making it a more formidable ^tBiffgK^d securing a more abundant satisfaction. The facPthat life thuscombined and weighted, was hurled against life, was the lingering weakness, the deficiency which attends upon all partial attainment. The moral triumph lay in the positive, Access of strength. Let us now correct our elementary conceptions of value so that they may apply to moral value. The fulfilment of a simple isolated interest, is j good, but only the fulfilment of an organization I of interests is morajlygood. Such goodness ap- ' pears in the realization of an individual's sys- tematic purpose or in the well-being of a com- munity. That it virtually implies one ultjmate ^ ggpd, the fulfilment of the system of all interests, must necessarily follow; although we cannot at present deal adequately with that conclusion. The qualijy of moral goodness, like the quality of goodness in the fundamental sense, lies not in the nature of any class of objects, but in any ob- 16 THE MORAL ECONOMY ject oj* activity whatsoever, in so far as this pro- vJ3fe-a~fulfilment of interest or desire. In the case of niQral goodnessthts~fulnlment must em- brace a group of interests in which each is Hmited by the others. Its "vaTae lies not only in fulfil- ment, but also in adjustment and harmony. And j this value is independent of the speciaTsubject- matter of the interests. Moralists have generally agreed that it is impossible to conceive moral goodness exclusively in terms of any special in- terest, even such, as honor,, power, or wealth. 4 There is no interest so rare or so humble that its fulfilment is not morally good, provided that ful- filment forms part of the systematic fulfilment of a group of interests. But there has persisted from the dawn of ethi- cal theory a misconception concerning the place of pleasure in 1 moral goodness. It has been sup- posed that every interest, whatever its special subject-matter, is an interest in pleasure. Now while a thorough criticism of hedonism would be out of place here, even if it were profitable, ;>. summary consideration of it will throw some light the truth. 5 Fortunately, the ethical status of pleasure is much clearer than its psychological status. As a moral Concern, pleasure is e'nner a special interest, in which case it must take its place in the whole economy of life, and submit to prin- ciples which adjust it to the rest; or it is an ele- THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 17 went in every interest, in which case it is itself not an interest at all. Now whether it be propefto recognize a special interest in pleasure, it is not necessary here to determine. That this should be generally supposed to be the case is mainly due, I think, to a habit of associating pleasure peculiarly with certain familiar "and recurrent bodily inter- ests. At dny rate it is clear that the pleasure which constantly attends interests is^ot that in. which the interest is taken. Interests and desires are qualitatively diverse, and to an extent that isy unlimited? The "Simpler organisms are not in-< terested in pleasure, but in their individual pres- ervation; while man is interested not only in preservation, but in learning, card-playing, loving, fighting, bargaining, and all the innumerable activities that form part of the present complex of life. Now, it is true that it is agreeable or pleasant to contemplate the^fulnlment of an interest; and that such anticipatory gratification in^some v * measure accompanies all endeavor. But there is an absolute difference between such present pleasure and the prospect which evokes it^^ltnd -it is that prospect or imagined state of fulfil- ment which is the object of endeavor, the good sought. It is also true that the fulfilment of every interest is pleasant. But this means only that the interest is conscious of its fulfilment. In pleasure i8 THE MORAL ECONOMY and pain life records its^gains and losses, and is guided to enhance the one or "repair the other. Where in the scale of life pleasure and pain be- gin it is not now possible to say, but it is certain that they are present wherever interests engage in any sort of reciprocity. If one interest is to cSntrot-or engage another it must be aware of it, and alive to its success or failure. Where life has reached the human stage of complexity, in which interests supervene upon interests, in which every interest is itself an object of inter- est, the consciousness of good and evil assumes a constantly increasing importance. Life is more watchful of itself, more keenly sensitive to the fortunes of all of its constituent parts. It is proper, therefore, to associate pleasure with goodness; and happiness, or a more constant and pervasive pleasure, with the higher forms of moral good- ness. But pleasure and happiness are incidental to goodness; necessary, but not definitive of its *& general form and structure. ^ ^*MU* v^ In addition to goodness thus amplified therfe now enters into life at the moral sf2fc*rnew ele- ment of value, the Tightness or virtue of action which, though moved by some immediate de- sire, is at the same time controlled by a regard for a higher or more comprehensive interest. his is the disUagabhrng^ggalitv of all that wins moral approval: thrift and temperance; loyalty THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 19 and integrity; justice, unselfishness, and public spirit; humanity and piety. To the further dis- cussion 'of these several virtues we shall have oc- casion shortly to return. Moral procedure, then, differs from life in its more elementary form, through the fact that interests are organized. Morality is only life where this has assumed the form of the forward movement of character, nationality, and hu- manity. Moral principles define the adjustment of interest to. interest, for the saving of each and the strengthening of both against failure and death. Morality is only the joeJthod of carrying on the affair of life beyond a certain point of com- plexity .^JF^Tfte---ffiet]2xt^ concerted, cumu- lative living, through wnTch interests are brought from a doubtful condition of being tolerated by the cosmos, to a condition^ofsecurity and con- fidence. The spring and motive of morality are therefore absolutely one with those of life. The self-preservative impulse of the simplest organ- ism is the initial bias from which, by a continuous progression in the direction of first intent, have sprung the service of mankind and the love of God. THE MORAL ECONOMY /I>L&^^S(^C'&*I 'l^i/ There is an old and unprofitable quarrel be- tween those who identify, and those who contrast, morality with nature. To adjudicate this quarrel, it is necessary to define a point at which nature somehow exceeds herself. Strictly speaking, it is as arbitrary to say that morality, which arose and is immersed in nature, is not natural, as to say that magnetism and electricity are not natural. If nature be defined in terms of the categories of any stage of complexity, all beyond will wear the aspect of a miracle. It would be proper to dis- miss the question as only a trivial matter of term- inology, did not the discussion of it provide an oc- casion for alluding to certain confused notions that have obtained wide currency. Thus there is an ancieuLbelief that it is natural to be licentious; that man is at heart unruly and wftftiir~wearing the artificial good behavior of civilization as he wears his clothes. Nietsche has contributed not a little to the glorification of this pro-natural and anti-moral monster. And yet no one has recognized more clearly than he, that restraint and law, are not only in life from the beginning,, butthat they are themselves the very^sonrees df its power. 'The singular fact remains,' he says, 'that every- thing of the nature of freedom, elegance, boldness, THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 21 dance, and masterly certainty, which exists or has existed, whether it be in thought itself, or in admin- istration, or in speaking and persuading, in art just as in conduct, has only developed by means of the tyranny of such arbitrary law; and in all seriousness, it is not at all improbable that precisely this is "na- ture" and "natural" and not laisser-aller/' * It only remains to drop the terms "arbitrary" and " tyranny " ; since the principle of develojjmeatJn life can scarcely be regarded -as- arbitrary^orjts effectual Working as tyranny. Huxley chose to draw a line between nature and morality, at the point where a limit is set to the isolated organism's strugglej^ajnsJLall comers. The practice of that which is ethically best what we call goodness or virtue involves a course of con- duct which, in all respects, is opposed to that which leads to success fn the cosmic^tfiiggle for existence. In place of ruthless self-assertion it demands self- restrainO But Huxley appears momentarily to have over- looked the fact that the struggle for exjstpnrft ^ itself piij^jjjQrfTTinim on pdf-rflfrtTfnnt For there is no stage of evolution in which the adjustment and co-operation of interests is not an ju3to survival. One doe's not have to rise higEeFln the scale of life than the plants fertilized by insects, to observe the working of this principle* It is only the crudest and most impotent self- assertion that is "ruthless." The reason for this 22 THE MORAL ECONOMY as simply that the real enemy of every vital proc- ess is not another kindred process, but the me- chanical environment. Life is essentially an as- sejjtjpn, not against life, but against death. In- terests that expend their energies in destroying or crippling one another, slip back toward that primeval lifelessness from which they emerged. Restraint for the sake of organization is there- fore only a developed_^and -mfcelligeril ydf-asser- tioaT~ If one insists still upon drawing a line between cosmical and moral forces, let it be drawn at the point where there first^aji^ that imstahlf* complex calledjifft- Life does in a sense oppose itself to the balance of nature. To hold itself together, it must play at parry and thrust with the very forces which gave it birth. Once having happened, it so acts as to persist. But it should be remarked that this opposition between the careless and rough course of the cosmos, the in- sidious forces of dissolution, on the one hand, and the self-preserving care of the organism on the other, is present absolutely from the outset of life. "^*- Vegetable and animal organisms do, it is true, adapt themselves to the environment; but their adaptation is essentially a method of using and modifying the environment in their own favor, precisely as is the case with human action. THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 23 Therefore Huxley's sharp distinction between natural plant life and man's artificial garden is misleading. 'The tendency of the cosmic process,' he says, 'is to bring about the adjustment of the forms of plant life to the current conditions; the tendency of the horticultural process is the adjustment of the conditions to the needs of the forms of plant life which the gardener desires to raise.' 8 But this is to ignore #ie basal fact, which is that plant lifejnjmy formLis^a- defiance of currenlrcon- difionir. Art has already begun when natural processes assume a form that feeds itself, repro- duces itself, and grows. The first organisms have only a local footing; they are rooted in the soil, and can turn to their advantage only the condi- tions characteristic of a time and place. Event- ually there evolves a more resourceful unit of life, like the gardener with his cultivated plants, who is capable of inhabiting nature at large. But the method is still the same, that of playing off nature against nature; only it is now done on a larger scale, and in a more aggressive and confident spirit. The need of concession to the demands of locality is reduced, through a concession once and for all to the wider processes of nature. But in relation to its environment, life is never wholly constructive, as it is never wholly passive. Whether it appears in the form of vegetation or civilization, 24 THE MORAL ECONOMY it always involves both an adaptation of nature to itself and of itself to nature. Morality, then, is natural if life is_natural; for it is denned by the same essential principles. It is related to life as a lateFto an earlieFphase of one development. The organizatiojrof life an- swers the self-preservative impulse with which life begins; the deliberate fulfilment of a human purpose is only life grown strong enough through organization to conduct a larger and more advent- urous enterprise. ~" In the light of this conception let us examine more fully the relation of morality to the competi- nities. There can, of course, be no doubt that competition forces life up in the scale. But it is equally true, and more significant, that in the course of that progress competition itself is steadily eliminated. The stronger units of life prevail against the weaker. But the stronger units of life are the more inclusive and harmoni- ous complexes of interest. They are constituted by adjusting interests; allowing each a modicum of free play, or crushing those that will not sub- mit to organization. Within such units the prin- ciple of mechanical survival gives way to the principle of moral survival. I mean by this that THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 25 the selection, rejection, and gradation of interests is made not on the basis of the uncompromising self-assertion of each and the survival of the hardy remnant; but on the baste of the contribution made by each to the life of the, collective body. Thetest of survival is obedience to a law denned in the joint interest of all, and control is vested in the rational capacity to represent this interest and conduct it to a safe and profitable issue. The strength of life thus organized lies in its mas- siveness, in its effective plenitude. When such units wage war on one another, this strength is wasted; and the very same principle that strength shall prevail, tends to the extension of the organ- ization until it shall embrace contentious factions. Even where the principle of survival does not operate, conflict has been, and yet remains, li factor in moral progress of enormous and fer- reaching importance. The more keen and un- relenting it is, the more effectually does it ex- pose the weakness of the competing units, the more urgently does it require a better concentra- tion and economy of effort. In order to fight a rival, it is necessary to leave off fighting one's self, and be healthy and single-minded. An industrial corporation, in order to overreach its competitors, is compelled to adjust its intricate functions with incredible nicety, to utilize by-products, and even to introduce old-age pensions for the promotion 26 THE MORAL ECONOMY of morale among its employees. And so a nation, to be strong in war, must enjoy peace and justice at home. War has served society by welding great aggregates of interest into compact and effective wholes, the enemy providing an object upon which collective endeavor can unite. But circumstances that press life forward will be left behind, if these circumstances are not them- selves good. And war is not that for which men war; they war for the existence ancl satisfaction of their interests. That which is constructive and saving in war is not the contact between the warring parties, but their jnternaLcoherence and harmony. It is that which survives when hostil- ity is inhibited by a recognition of the cost; it is that which is extended when hostility gives way to a w Hf r rQ-nrd in q f "V* of interests. The loss__when contending currents are re- directed and flow together is not a loss of power, but only of neutralizing resistance. It is true that the lesson of harmony is learned through discord; but harmony is none the less in the end exclusive ~oT~discord. The principle of peace, learned at honieTfKrough the hard necessity of war abroad, finds only a more complete justifica- tion and beneficent application in peace abroad. It is love and not hate that is the moving spring of life. It is love which is constructive; hate de- stroys even the very object that evokes and sus- THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 27 tains it. It is essential, then, to life, not only to assert and reproduce itself, but to increase itself through allying itself with life. Where the motive of life thus freely expresses itself, there are no natural enemies. I count it to be important thus to trace morality back to the origin 11nvft_n_f Ifffi/'sirTre only sr> is it possible Lo"Uno!erstandits urgency, and its con- tinuity with^every organic impulse. It is because morality is without warrant dislocated from the natural life, that it is accused ofbeihg barren and formal. To many minds it is best symbolized by the kindly lady who gives the small boy a penny, and admonishes him not to spend it. But there could be no more outrageous travesty. Morality in its springs is absolutely one with that clinging to life which is the most deep-lying of all interests, and with that relish for life in which its goodness needs no philosopher's approval. The primal de- termination to be and to sell one's self dearly, is not different, except in its limits, from the moral determination to be and to attain to the utter- most. The whole force of life is behind every moral scruple, and guarantees the sanity even of a universal good-will. But the identification of morality with the / organization ortie, serves also to demonstrate life in its unity and larger auspices. Morality harmonizes life and eliminates its wanton self- 28 THE MORAL ECONOMY destruction; but life is not therefore left without an object of conquest. For there is one campaign in which all interests are engaged, and which re- quires their undivided and aggressive effort. This is the first and last campaign, the war of life upon the routine of the mechanical cosmos and its forces of dissolution. To live, to let live, and to grow in life, constitute an absorbing and passion- ' ate task, in which every human heroism may find a proper object. It must be admitted that the imagination has not yet sufficiently glorified this enterprise of civilization. It is hard to forget old shibboleths and loyalties. And yet precisely that must be done with every advance in liberality. Admira- tion and passion lag behind reason; are forever backsliding and debauching themselves among the companions of their youth. But man's sal- vation lies not in degrading his reason to the level of his loyalties, nor in allowing the two to drift apart, but in acquiring a finer loyalty. And while one cannot extemporize" Llie-symbols and imagery of devotion, these will surely grow about any sustained purpose. We hear much in our day of the passing of nobility and enthusiasm with the era of war. "Whatever makes men feel young," says Ches- THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 29 terton, "is great a great war or a love story." 9 Love stories will doubtless continue to the end; but must man cease to feel young in the days when cruelty and exploitation are obsolete? Nietsche 1 speaks with passionate regret of a certain " lordliness," or assertion of superiority, that has latterly given place to the slave morality, which aims at "the universal green-meadow hap- piness of the herd." There are no more heroes, of "lofty spirituality," but only levellers, timid, stupid, mediocre folk, " sans genie et sans esprit." Now there is a paradox that does not seem to have occurred to Nietsche, in the slave insurrec- he accounts for this dreary spectacle. It can scarcely be a code of slavishness that has enabled slaves to overthrow their masters. The morality of the modern European democracy is the morality of the strong; of the many, it is true, but of themany united and impassioned, moving toward the general end with good heart. And it is this which gave mastery to the once rul- ing class. Mastery appears wherever action is bold, united, and with the pressure of interest behind it; mastery has nothing to do with the airs of mastery, with Nietsche' s "pathos of dis- tance," separating class from class. The "in- stinct for rank," and "delight in the nuances of reverence," are not signs., of nobility, as Nietsche would have it. There is no nose for them so 30 THE MORAL ECONOMY sensitive and discriminating as that of the cham- bermaid or butler. The mere pride of an easy mastery over slaves is the taint of every society in which class differences are recognlzeol^rfixed. It attaches-to~^Hr classes; whether , it be called snobbery or obsequiousness, it is all one. The virtue of mastery, on the other hand, lies in the power and in the attainment which it represents. And this Nietsche himself fully admits in his less inspired but more thoughtful utterances. It is "the constant strugglewith uniform un- favoj3Me_jcmdjtions" thalTSxes the type he ad- mires. When there are no more enemies, "the bond and constraint of the old discipline severs," and a rapid decay sets in; which leads inevitably, after a chaos of individualism, to a period of mediocrity such as the present. In other words, so soon as its political and social activities are confined to "lording it," the aristocracy loses its vigor, and falls an easy prey to democratic or other propagandists who want something and are united to attain it. Now it seems that if man is not to become spir- itually bankrupt, he must be confronted with un- favorable conditions^that keep him vigilanFlihd alert Nietsche has no imagination for resist- ance, struggle, and victory, except as these arise in the war of man against man. His heroes are Alcibiades, Caesar, and Frederick II, "men THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 31 predestined for conquering and circumventing others." But it is not easy for us of this day to forget the others; it is thgjgost to_them that galls our conscience. We cannot sincerely applaud a heroism in which life is condemned to feed on itsefir Shall the only enemy that never fails, the condition that is always indifferent if not un- favorable, namely, the perpetual wear and drag of nature, be forgotten in order that men may fall on one another? Has man no more lordly task than that of destroying what he holds to be good ? Is there no more of "creative plenipotence" in man than killing and robbing? I am convinced that it needs only enlighten- ment to reduce NietscjjeJ^ circumventer of others / to the proportions of a burglar; and to enlarge tO tnjlgjTfiigjr^npnrtinns j^m^WFo cirCUniventS the blindness of nature, brings Tup^he weak or faint-hearted who lag behind, and throws himself bravely into the enterprise of steady constructive civilization. Nietscne Is beguiled by~lT"IoV5*T>f melodrama. He forgets the real war for the pageantry of an era that will pass. As a mis- leader of youth he conspires with the writers of dime-novels to fix the imagination on false sym- bols. The small boy who would run away from home for the glory of fighting Indians is deceived; both because there are no longer any Indians to fight, and because there are more glorious bat- 32 THE MORAL ECONOMY ties to be fought at home. WajLbetween man and man is an obsolescent form of heroism. There is every reason, therefore, why it should not be glorified as the only occasion capable of evoking the great emotions. The general battle of life, the first and last battle, is still on; and it has that in it of danger and resistance, of com- radeship and of triumph, that can stir the blood. But I have not undertaken to make morality picturesque. I shall leave that to other hands. In an age when it has been somewhat out of lit- erary fashion, Chesterton " has found it possible even to proclaim morality as the latest and most enlivening paradox. But I propose to leave it clad in its own sobriety. Its appeal in the last analysis must be to a sense for reality, and to an enlightened practical wisdom. Morality is that which makes man, "naked, shoeless, and defence- less" in body, the master of the kingdom of nature. M6rality in this sense has never been more simply and eloquently justified than in the words which V Plato puts into the mouth of Protagoras. He rirst describes the arts with which men contrived barely to sustain themselves, in a condition no betteF than the beasts which preyed on them in their helplessness. It is then that through the gift of Zeus they are rescued from their degrada- tion and invested with the forms of civilization. THE ORGANIZATION OF LIFE 33 After a while the desire of self-preservation gathered them into cities; but when they were gathered to- gether, having no art of government, they evil-in- treated one another, and were again in process of dispersion and destruction. Zeus feared that the entire race would be exterminated, and so he sent Hermes to them, bearing reverence and justice to be the ordering principles of cities and the bonds of friendship and conciliation. 12 But reverence and justice are more even than the ordering principles of cities. They are the conditions of the maximum of attainment, / whether tnis be conceived as that supreme ex- cellence which Plato divined, or as that all-saving good which is the object of a Christian devotion to humanity. Morality is the law of life, from its bare preservation to its supreme fruition. There is a liigh pretension in morality which is the necessary consequence of its motive. But man is not, on that account, in need of those reminders of failure which are so easy to offer, and which are so impotently true; he needs rather new symbols of faith, through which his heart may be renewed, and his courage fortified to proceed with an undertaking of which he can- not see the end. Faith and courage have brought him thus far: "Till he well-nigh can tame Brute mischiefs and control Invisible things and turn All warring ills to purposes of good." CHAPTER II THE LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL 'r r* &>-/JU-i ii< THERE is a phrase, " liberty of conscience," which well expresses the modern conception of moral obligation. It recognizes that duty in the last analysis is imposed upon the individual neither by society nor even by God, but by him- self; that there is no authority in moral matters more ultimate than a man's own rational con- viction.^ what is best. We meet here with the application to moral- ity of the motive which underlies the whole mod- ern reaction against medievalism, the motive which John Locke so aptly summarized when he said, "We should not judge of things by men's opinions, but of opinions by things." * This is individualism of the positive temper, the protest againstjx)neniioa--aad authority; in behalf, not of license, but of knowledge. Medievalism is condemned, not for its universalism, but for its arbitrariness and untruth; for its mistaking of the weight of collective opinion, or of institu- tional prestige, for the weight of evidence. This is the characteristic temper of the modern 34 LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL 35 individualism, whether it be dominated by a bias foi senslTfo a bias for reason. Locke, like his forerunner, Bacon, is an individualist because it is the individual in his detachment from society that alone can be open-eyed and open-minded; who is qualified to carry on that " proper busi- ness of the understanding," "to think of every- thing just as it is in itself." 2 Descartes, although in habit of mind and speculative instinct he has so little in common with the Englishman, neverthe- less finds in the individual's self -discipline and concentration the only hope of~ preserving the savor of the salt of knowledge. Thus he says: I thought that the sciences contained in books, (such of them at least as are made up of .probable reasonings, without demonstrations), composed as they are of the opinions 6i many different individuals massed together, are farther removed from truth than the simple inferences which a man of good sense using his natural and unprejudiced judgment draws respecting the matters of his experience. 8 Spinoza, who both abandoned the world and was abandoned by it, sought an individual philosophy of life that should be more universal than the opinion of the world on account of its greater truth. "Further reflection convinced me, that if I could really get to the root of the matter I should be leaving certain evils for a certain good." 4 This was the impulse in which modern toler- ance of individuaropinion and appeal to indi- 36 THE MORAL ECONOMY vidual conscience originated. It was a protest^ not against order, but agaJn^t_the,jiisJiaitening drag, the heavy and dull constraint, of an order v externally imposed. Freedom was valued not for the sake of lawlessness, but for the sake of a clearer recognition of the proper Jaws of things, of the principles that lie in nature and civiliza- tion and control them inherently. Individualism in this sense is no^ sceptical. Even a charge that existing codes of morality and systems of thought are largely matters of social habit, or rules devised by church and state to maintain an arbitrary and profitable power, does not justify the inference that there is no truth. For there is no dilemma between public tyranny and private caprice. On the contrary, it means that tyranny is itself a form of caprice, and that caprice in any form must give way be- fore reason and experiment. Certain contempo- rary popular philosophers, such as Wells and Shaw, appear to believe that to repudiate the rigid conventions of the day means to abolish absolute distinctions utterly and fall back upon a general laxity and vagueness. But this is to throw out the baby with the bath. The evil in convention is the sijljstjtution of merely habitual distinctions for__rgal distinctions, and the only justification for an assault on convention is the bringing of such real distinctions to light. LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL 37 The individualist virtually claims that an indi- vidual's belief, if it be critical, is entitled to prece- dence over public belief, simply because the in- dividual mind is a better instrument of knowledge than the public mind. It is the individual mind that is more directly confronted with the evidence, more single and responsive. Individualism is not, then, an appeal to private opinion in any dis- paraging sense. For, in so far as private opinion is independent and truthful in motive, concerning itself with its objects rather than with the social model of the day, it is self-corrective and tends inevitably toward the common truth. It is the opinion that is not really individual, but imita- tive, respectful of persons, generally submissive to ulterior motives of a social kind, that is private in the bad sense. Its privacy lies in its artifici- ality, in its partisanship, and in its remove from the open daylight of experience. If, therefore, one must in moral matters fina]]y rely on the individual's judgment, this in no way implies the breakdown of universal principles. It is neither necessary nor natural thatiridividual judgment should bespeak whim, hasty impulse, or narrow self-interest. The^guardian in Plato's Republic was as much an indwidual jg* the mer- chant or the soldier. 5 In a^ense he was more an individual than these, since he was not swayed by the crowd, but thought with freedom 38 THE MORAL ECONOMY and independence. Nevertheless his thought embraced the interests of the entire community, and comprehended the organization and forms of adjustment through which they all might live and thrive. In moral as in other matters the true appeal of individualism is to an intelligence which, though emancipated from convention, is on that very account committed to the general necessities that lie in the field it seeks to know. In view of these considerations, then, we may ^ pronounce legitimate and hopeful the moral in- dividualism of the time. It implies the recogni- tion that there is a genuine ground for moral action, which may be brought home to any indi- vidual mind that will deal honestly and directly with the facts of life. Morality is not a useful fiction which must be protected against inquisi- tiveness and cherished in ignorance and servility; it is a body of compelling truth that will convince wherever there is a capacity to observe and reason. It requires no higher sanction than the individual, because the individual is society^s_organ of truth; because only in the individual mind is society open to rational conviction. Latitudinarianism and tolerance in this sense bespeak a confidence in morality^: .ability^ to justifyjtself. At the same tim"e they represent a protest against replacing the intrinsic truth of morality by the arbitrary standards of authority V N? LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL 39 and convention. Now, while there is little need in the present day of protecting individuaJjudg- ment against encroachments of authority, there/ can be no doubt of the great need of protecting itr"** against the more insidious encroachments tof con- } vention. This is peculiarly an age of publicity./ Tn"e~ forces of suggestion and imitation operate\ on a scale unparalleled in the history of society, j Standards and types readily acquire an almost irresistible prestige, simply through becoming established as models. And the sanction of opinion may be gained for almost any formula, from a fashion in hats to an article in theology. Convention can no longer be accounted con- servative. It sanctions promiscuously usages as venerable as civilization itsefi7antt"as transient as the fad of the hour. Democratic institutions and universal educational privileges have bred a social mass intelligent and responsive enough - to be modish, but lacking in discrimination and ^ criticism. The tyranny of opinion, the fear of being different, has long since been recognized as a serious hinderance to the development which po- litical freedom and economic opportunity ought properly to stimulate. But the moral blindness to which it gives rise has never, I think, been sufficiently emphasized. We require of business men only that measure of honesty that we con- 40 THE MORAL ECONOMY ventionally expect in that type of occupation. A politician is proverbially tricky and self-seek- ing. The artistic temperament would scarcely be recognized if it did not manifest itself in weak- ness and excess. It is as unreasonable to expect either tunefulness or humor in a musical comedy as to expect a statement of fact in an advertise- ment. In short, where any human activity is c conventionalized, standards are arbitrarily fixed; and critical discernment grows dull if it "does not altogether atrophy: It simply dues-iiot occur to the great majonfy of men that any activity should be judged otherwise than by comparing it with the stereotyped average of the day. This is, to be sure, only that blindness of the common mind which Socrates 'and Plato observed in their day, but it is now aggravated through the greater massiveness and conductivity of modern society, hese considerations will serve both to intro- Huce and to justify my present undertaking. I assume that duly is not an arbitrary mandate which the individual must obey^ blindly "or from motives of fear; but the conviction of moral truth, the enlightened recognition of the good. 6 Hence I wish to demonstrate morality to an indi- vidual reflective mind, open to the facts of life, and to conviction of truth. I shall expound morality out of no book but experience, "that universal and publick Manuscript, that lies ex- LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL 41. pans'd unto the Eyes of all." Tojrefer morality to custom, to conscience in the sense of individual prepossession or institutional authority, even if these be interpreted as the oracles of God, is to justihjhe_susicion that it is groundless and arbi- trary, at best a matter of lovalty or good form. I shall present morality as a set of principles as inherent in conduct, as unmistakably valid there, asisgravitation in the heavens. I shall hope to make it appear that the saving grace of morality is directly operative in life;~needing ncTproof from any adventitious source, because it provesjiself under observation. I shall address myself to an individual pro- tagonist whom I shall designate in the second person; and whom I shall suppose to exhibit that yielding reluctance which is the mark of a mind that for very love of truth will not too readily assent. As I am to pr^e^ morality to you, I accept the burden of proof; but you are not on that account totally without responsibility in the matter. As you must not stop your ears, or close your bodily eyes, so you must not shut the eye of the mind, or harden your heart. Were you to adopt such an attitude I should be compelled to set argu- ment aside, and resort to such practical measures as might shock or entice you into reasonableness. Or, I might abandon you as incorrigible. It is 42 THE MORAL ECONOMY clear that I can as little show reasons to a man who will not think them with me, as I can show the road to one who will not look where I point it out. A very large amount of moral exhorta- v tion consists in the attempt to overcome apathy Jfe and inattention. Such exhortation cannot in the * nature of the case be logical, because the sub- ject's logical organ is not as yet functioning. I doubt if there is any discussion of moral matters in common life in which this form of appeal is not present in a measure sufficient to obscure the merits of the question at issue. I desire for present purposes to eliminate as far as possible all conflict and prejudices, and thus to dispense with zeal and eloquence. I shall assume, there- fore, that you propose to be reasonable concern- ing this moral affair. By this I mean simply that you shall directly observe the facts of life, report candidly on these facts, and fully accept the implications of any judgment to which you may commit yourself. I may phrase your pledge of reasonableness thus: "Show what is right, and that it is right, and I will accept it. I mean my action to be good, and ask only to have the good demonstrated to me, that I may intelligently adopt it." LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL 43 ^c / ft ^ It is commonly believed that whereas thfijjgic / ^ of prudence is unimpeachable, there is a hiatus be- + *!j ''tween this level of morality and those above. To drink one's self to death is a species of folly that the poorest intelligence can understand; but the '' folly in meanness, injustice, or impiety is a harder 3 ^matter. Believing as I do that the folly is equally demonstrable in all of these cases, I propose not to accept your ready assent in the simpler case until its grounds have been made as clear and definite as possible. I feel convinced that pru- dence is not so simple a matter as appears; in fact that it involves the whole ethical dialectic. I find you, let us say, eating an apple with evi- dent relish; and I ask you why. If you are can- did, and free from pedantry, you will doubtless reply that it is because you like to. In this par- ticular connection I can conceive no profounder utterance. But we may obtain a phraseology that will suit our theoretical purposes more con- veniently and serve better to fix the matter in our minds. Your eating of the apple is a process that tends within certain limits to continue and jratore itself, to supply the Actions L and ._. objects necessary to its own maintenance. I have pro- posed that we call such a process an interest. In that it is a part of that very complex physical and 44 THE MORAL ECONOMY moral thing called "you," it is your interest, and it also has, of course, its special subject-matter, in this case the eating of an apple. It involves specific movements of body, and makes a specific requisition on the environment. Now, still con- fining ourselves strictly to this interest, we shall doubtless agree to call any phase of it in which it &7\ is fulfilled, in which its~exercise is fostered and unimpeded, good. And we shall doubtless agree to attach the same term, although perhaps in a less direct sense, to that part of the environment which it requires, in this case the apple, and to the subsidiary actions which mediate it, such as the grasping of the apple, or the biting and masti- cation of it. I mean only that these modes or fac- tors of the interest are injpjne^sense good; quali- fications and limitations may be adjudicated later. In this case, which so far as I can see is the simplest possible case of the sort of value that enters into life, the value is supplied by a spe- of process which we maycall anjjntec- and it issupplied thereby absolutely, funda- mentally. It makes both this apple and your eating of it good that you should like to eat it. If you could explain every action as you explain this action, when it is thus isolated, there would be no moral problem. We may now safely open the door to the ob- jections that have been pressing for admission. LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL 45 The first to appear is an old friend among phil- osophers; but one whose reputation so far ex- ceeds its merits that it must be submitted to vig- ilant examination. It is objected (I am sure that you have long wanted to say this) that your repast is good for you, good fwm your point of view, but flntr nn that account really good. These are the terms with which it is customary to con- found any serious judgment of truth; and they acquire a peculiar force here because we seem to have invited their application. We have agreed that your action is good in that it suits your inter- esj:, and thus~si3ein to have defined its goodness as relajiie-4cryou. Now, if we are to avoid a confusion of mind that would terminate our in- vestigation here and now, we must bring to light a latent ambiguity. We have, it is true, discovered goodness to be / a phae_pf a process called "interest?' which is/ qualified further, through the use of a personal pronoun. The nature of goodness, in other words, is such as to involve certain specific relations, here involving a person or subject. Goodness" is not peculiar in this respect; for there are very few things in this world that do not involve specific relajtipns. This isThe case, for example, with planets, levers, and brothers. There is no planet without its sun, no lever without its fulcrum, no brother who is not somebody's brother. 46 THE MORAL ECONOMY But the relationship in the case of goodness is supposed to "Be a more__seriojis matter; suffi- ciently serious to discredit the meaning of good- ness, or make all judgments concerning goodness merely expressions oLJiias. The supposition is due to the confusion of a relativity in the sub- ject-matter of the judgment/)with a relativity of the judgment itself to the individual that gives utterance to it. Thus the judgment, "You like apples," deals with your interest and the objects relating to it; but the judgment itself is not therefore biassed. It is no more an expression of your opinion than it is of mine; it is a formula- tion of what occurs in the field of experience open to all observers. A judgment concerning only you, is utterly different from a judgment repre- senting only you. The latter, if there were such a thing, would be ungrounded, and would justify the sceptic's suspicioHsT^The confusion is possi- ble here simply because the subject-matter of the judgment in question is itself a judgment. It could scarcely arise in the parallel cases. The lever cannot be defined except in relation to its fulcrum. This may be loosely generalized and made to read: judgments concerning a lever are relative to a fulcrum. It might even be said that a lever is a lever only from the point of view of its own fulcrum. But the most unscrupulous quib- bler would scarcely offer this as evidence against LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL 47 the objective validity of our knowledge of levers. Your brother is necessarily related to you; but the proposition denning the relationship is not on that account relative, that is, peculiarly yours or any one else's. Fraternity is a complex involving a personal connection, but is none the less entirely objective^ And precisely the same thing is" litre cTgoodness. To observe it adequately one must bring""mto view that complex object called an invest, which may be yours or his or mine; but it will be brought none the less into our common view, and observed as any other object may be observed. Because goodness is inherent in a process involving instincts, desires, or persons, it is not one whit less valid or objective than it would be if it involved the sun or the first law of motion. Let us now turn to a much more fruitful ob- jection. Suppose it be objected that your action, though good when thus artificially isolated, will in the concrete case^have to be considered jnore broadly before ^thy final j | i r 1gm pnf ' rar> *1 A pro- nounced on it. To this objection I fully assent. It implies that although we have fully defined a hypothetical case of goodness, we have so far simplified the conditions as to make our conclu- sions inadequate to moral experience. Accept- ing this qualification, it is now in order to, com- plicate the situation; but retaining our analysis 48 THE MORAL ECONOMY of the elementary process, and employing terms in the meaning derived therefrom. Let us suppose that the apple which you enjoy eating, is my apple, and that I delight in keeping it for my own uses. Such being the case, we fall to wrangling over it, and your appetite is like to go unappeased. I now have evidence to show you that your act of violent appropriation does not conduceTo your interest. This is simply an experimental and empirical fact. I am in a position to show you that the character of your action is other than you supposed, that you were under a misapprehension as to its goodness. It leads not to the enjoyable activity which interests you, but to a series of bodily exertions and a state of unfulfilled longing in which you have no in- terest at all. Indeed your action is a hinderance to your interest; in other words> i bgd. But I proceed to point out to you the further fact that, if you will buy the apple and thus con- ciliate me, you may get rid of my interference and proceed with your activity. Your purchase is now justified in precisely the same manner as your original seizure of the object. If you are asked why you do it, you may still reply, " Be- cause I like apples." Now, it would accord with the customary use of terms to caHjugh action^pn your part prudence; and prudence is commonly regarded as a virtue LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL 49 or moral principle. But in prudence the mean- i mg or morality is as yet only partially realized; it is morality upon a relatively low level. Hence it is desirable to avoid reading too much into it. On the one hand, prudence does involve the checking of one interest in consequence of the / presence of another. You Eave"~noted my inter- est, acknowledged it as having its own claims, and made room for it. Therein your action differs signally from your dealings with your mechanical environment. And it is this contact and adjust- ment of interests, this practical recognition of the fact that the success of one interest requires that other interests be respected, and dealt with in a special manner appropriate to them as inter- ests, that marks the procedure as moral. On the other hand, while you have acknowledged my interest, you have not adopted it. You have con- cerned yourself with my love of property only in so far as it affected your fondness for apples. In order to appeal to you I have had to Appeal to this, as yet your only interest. The moral jalue of your action lies whoTiy"ih its conduciveness to this interest, because it is controlled wholly by it. You are as yet only a complex acting con- sistently in^such_^e^~as to continue an eating of apples. This formula is entirely sufficient as a summary of your conduct, even after you have learned to respect my property. And therein lies \ \ 50 THE MORAL ECONOMY its merely prudential character. In thn<;_gtrjrt]y anH fl.hst.rar.tly regard ftHj preference, no subordination of motives. Action is controlled by an exclusive and insistent desire, which limits itself only with a view to effective- It would appear, then, that if I am to justify those types of action which are regarded as more completely moral, / must persuade you to a&opt interests that at any given instant do not move you* I must persuade you ttkforego your present incli- nation for the sake of another; to judge between interests, and prefer that which on grounds that you qannot reasonably deny is the more valid. , In other words, I must define a logicaLjxansition '* from prudence to preference, or moral purpose. Let us suppose that, in spite of your liking, apples do not " agree with" you. It is, for ex- ample, pertinent to remark that if you eat the apple to-day you cannot go to the play to-morrow. Our parley proceeds as follows: "Just now I am eating apples. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof." "But you acknowledge your fondness for the theatre." "Yes, but that doesn't interest me now." "Nevertheless you recognize the interest in LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL 51 play-going as a real one, dormant to-day, tempo- rarily eclipsed by another interest, but certain to revive to-morrow?" "I do." "And you admit that, apart from the chance of your death in the meantime, a chance so small as to be negligible, an interest to-morrow is as real asjm interest to-day?" ^ "Now, recognizing these two interests, and keeping them firmly in view, observe the conse- quences of your action if you persist in eating the apple, and pronounce judgment upon it." "It would seem to be bojii good and bad; good in its conduciveness to the satisfaction of my present TppetTte, bad in its preventing my enjoy- ment of the play." In your last reply you have fairly stated the problem. You are not permitted to escape the dilemma by simply neglecting the facts, for this would be contrary to the original agreement bind- ing you to be and remain open-minded. And you are now as concerned as I to solve the prob- lem by defining a reorganization of the situation that would permit of an action unequivocally good, that is altogether conducive to the fulfilment of interest. To understand what would constitute a solution of this moral problem it is important to observe, 52 THE MORAL ECONOMY \ in the first place, that an action wholly con- ^ ducive to both interests would take precedence of an action *which fulfilled the one but sacrificed the other. Were it possible for you to eat the apple now and go to the play to-morrow, your rational course would be to allow your present impulse free play. You would thus be alive to the total situation; your action would in reality be-^egulated by both interests, or rather by a larger interest embracing and providing for both. An action thus controlled would have a more adequate justification than an action conceived with reference to the one interest exclusively, and merely happening to be favorable to the other interest also. Or suppose that, by substituting a different species of apple for the one first selected, you could avoid disagreeable consequences, and without loss of immediate gratification. In this case you would have corrected your original action and adopted a course that proved itself better, because conducive to the fulfilment of to-morrow's interest as well as to-day's. We have thus arrived at a very important con- ception, that of a higher interest possessing a certain prioity_^n_its_claims. ihe higher in- terest as I have defined it is simply the greater fc interest, and greater in the sense that it exceeds a narrower interest through embracing it and add- ingJo_iL Your interest in TKtTfulfilment of to- LOGIC OF THE MORAL APPEAL 53 day's interest and to-morrow's, is demonstrably greater than your interest in the fulfilment of either exclusively, because it provides for each and more. In this perfectly definite settse your preference may be justified. Let us now apply this principle of preference to the more complex case in which there js no available action which will fulfil both interests. Suppose that you cannot both eat apples to-day and go to the play to-morrow. How is one to define a good action in the premises? In the first place the good act originally conceived in terms of the free play of the present impulse is proved to be illusory. There is no goodjjpt until your interests are reorganized. In other words, the higher interest, which is entitled to preference, requires some modification of the participating interests. But the higher interest owes its title to its liberality or comprehensiveness. Hence it must represent the maximum fulfilment of both interests which the conditions allow. Such a con- trolling interest may require you altogether to forego the present indulgence, or it may merely require that it be severely limited. In any case, the controlling interest will represent both inter- ests, modified, postponed, or suppressed, as is .necessary for their maximum joint fulfilment. The higher interest which thus ^places the orig-C inal interest, and which is entitled to do so onlyS 54 THE MORAL ECONOMY (because it incorporates them, I propose to call ( moyil f>ur because he who is guiltyoT it is not alive to the general good. He is morally unregenerate. Formalism, on the other hand, is good-hearted or well-intentioned. He who is guilty of it may be ridiculed as un- practical, or pitied for his misguided zeal; but society rarely offers to chastise him. For he has submitted to discipline, and if he is not the friend of man, it is not because of any profit that he has reserved for himself. In the arrangement which follows I shall use this difference between the material and formal 78 THE MORAL ECONOMY aspects of morality to supplement the main prin- ciple of classification, which is that difference of level or range, of which I have already made some use in the previous chapter, and which I shall now define more precisely. In morality life is so organized as to provide for interests as liberally and comprehensively as possible. But the principles through which such organization is effected will differ in the degree to which they accomplish that end. Hence it is possible to de- fine several economies or stages of organization whicfr are successively more compIefeT// The simple interest, lirst, is tEe~ "isolated interest, pursued regardlessly of other interests; in other words, not as yet brought under the form of morality, ^he reciprocity of interests, represents that rudimentary form of morality in which interests enter only into an external relation, through which they secure an exchange of bene- fits without abandoning their independence. "SMn the incorporation of interests, elementary inter- ests are unified through a purpose which sub- ordinates and regulates them, t 'The fraternity of interests, is that organization in which the rational or personal unit of interest is recognized asjinal, and respected wherever it is met. But there must also be some last economy, in which pro- vision is formally made for any interest whatso- ever that may assert itself. This is the realm of THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 79 good-will, or, as I shall call it for the sake of sym- jT7metry, the universal system of interests. I shall so construe these economies as to make the broader or more inclusive comprehend jhe narrower. Now each of these economies possesses its characteristic principle of organization, or typ- ical mode oi action; and this enables us to de- fine five,, prime virtues: intelligence, prudence, purpose, justice, and good-will. From each of these virtues there accrues to life a characteristic benefit: from intelligence, satisfaction; from prudence, health; from purpose, achievement; from justice, rational intercourse ; and from good- will, religion. The absence of these virtues de- fines a group of negative vices: incapacity, im- prudence, aimlessness, injustice, and irreverence. Finally, applying the distinction between for- malism and materialism, we obtain two further series of vices; for, with two exceptions, it js possi- ble in each econom^either to exaggerate the prin- ciple of organization, and "thus neglect* the con- st ftuent interests which it is intended to organize; orro exaggerate the good attained, and thus neg- lect the wider spheres beyond. There will thus be a formalistic series of errors: asceticism, sen- timentalism, anarchism, mysticism; and a mate- rialistic series: overindulgence, sordidness, big- otry or egoism, worldliness. Since materialism is in each case due to the lack of the next higher 8o THE MORAL ECONOMY principle of organization, there is no real differ- ence T)etween the materialism of one economy and the negative vice of the next. But I have thought it worth while to retain both series, be- cause they represent a difference of emphasis which it is customary to make. Thus there is no real difference between overindulgence and imprudence; but one refers to the excess, and the other to the deficiency, in an activity which is excessive in its fulfilment of a present interest, and deficient in its regard for ulterior interests. I have thought it best for the purpose of clear presentation to tabulate these virtues and vices; and it proves convenient, also, to adopt a fixed nomenclature. It is unfortunate that the terms must be drawn from common speech; for it is impossible that the meaning assigned to them in the course of a methodical analysis like the present, should exactly coincide with that which they have acquired in their looser application to daily life. But I shall endeavor always to make plain the sense in which I use them; and, thus guarded, they will serve to mark out a series of special topics which it is important briefly to review. THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 81 Universal Syste &i Interests Fraternity of Interests Incorporation Interests Reciprocity o Interests C/) ' 1 ECONOMY 3 a <* O j | *^ c 3 n> jS 1 i 3 i 1 f H a w c Ct> 8 1 t Rational Intercourse Achievemen S-* Satisfaction VALUE 2 K..^ W i W HH 1 1 1 I 1 1 w r> s 2 1 J? < O w Mysticism Anarchism Sentimen- talism Asceticism FORMALISM Worldline w w Sordidnes Overindu gence MATERIAL] 8 cH 1 en We have already had occasion to remark that no w0ra/ value attaches to the successes and fail- ures of the jsolated or simple interest. Thus it is customary not to apply judgments of approval or condemnation to the vicissitudes of animal life. So wholesale a generalization is undoubt- edly false; but at any rate it is based on the sup- position that the motive in animal life is always simple. And similarly, whenever human action is regarded only with reference to the impulse it immediately lerves, it is judged to be successful or futile, but never right or wrong. These prop- erties are reserved for such action as is controlled, or is capable of being controlled, with reference both to an immediate and also an ulterior inter- est. But since the difference between goodness in the wider generic sense and goodness in the moral sense is one of complexity, it is proper and illuminating to bring them into one orderly pro- gression. The root-value, then, of which^all the higher moral values are compounded, is the fulfilment . satisfaction- t>f the particular lulel'e'ijL- This * fundamental value is conditioned by a form of organization, which I propose in a restricted sense to term intelligence. I mean the capacity which every living interest must possess to util- THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 83 ize the environment, to turn it to its own ad- vantage. This is the distinguishing and essen- tial capacity_ofjjfe in every- form. A plant can continue to exist, and a sculptor can model a statue, only through being so organized as to be able to assimilate what the environment offers. Whether it be called tropism or technique, it is all one. Intelligence in this sense may be said to be the elementary virtue, conditioning success on every plane of activity. In using such terms as "satisfaction" and " success" interchangeably with so irreproach- able a term as "fulfilment," I may, until my meaning is wholly clear, seem to degrade morality. But the tone of disparagement in these first two terms is due to then: having acquired certain arbitrary associations. It is supposed that to be satisfied is to be complacent, and that to be successful is to be hard and worldly. Now, a narrow satisfaction and a blind success are morally evil; but satisfaction and success may be taken up into a life that is wholly wise and devoted. They will, in fact, constitute the real body of value in any practical enterprise, from the least to the greatest. The absence of intelligence, which I shall term incapacity, is the one ab feet from which life may suffer. Incapacity em- braces maladaptation, dulness, feebleness, sick- 84 THE MORAL ECONOMY ness, and death. Like its opposite it does not enter into the moral account except in so far as it af- fects a group of interests, through being prejudi- cial to an individual's efficiency or a community's welfare; but it will impair and annul attain- ment upon any plane. The fault of incapacity attaches not only to life that is rudimentary or defective, but also to the mechanical processes which have not been assimilated to any interest and thus lie outside the realm of value. In- capacity in this sense is that metaphysical evil of which philosophers speak. It testifies to the fact that the cosmos is only partially subject to judgments either of good or of evil; that value has a genesis and a history within an environ- ment that is at best plastic and progressively submissive. In terms of intelligence and incapacity, the basal .excellence and the basal fault, it is possible to define that whole affair of 'which morality is the constructive phase: the attempt of life to es- tablish itself in the midst of primordial lifeless- ness, to avert dissolution and death, and to ex- tend and amplify itself to the uttermost. Within the economy of the simple interest / there is no ^possibility of formalism, since there is no subordination of interesttojnythirig-liigher than itself. But we meet here with materialism in its purest form. Overindulgence is thefault s THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 85 which attaches to the exclusive insistence of the isolated interest on itself; when it grows head- strong, and is like to defeat itself through being blindly preoccupied. The evil of overindulgence arises_from two natural causes. ^ ; In the first place an interest is essentially self-perpetuating; in spite of peri- odic moments of satiety, an interest fulfilled is renewed and accelerated. Just in so far as it is clearly distinguished it possesses an impetus of its own, by which it tends to excess, until cor- rected by the protest of some other interest which it infringes/?' ) i Overindulgence is most common where such consequences are delayed or obscured by artificial means; hence its prevalence among those who can afford for a time to dissipate their strength, or have some means of replenishing it. jAnd imprudence is common where the penalty is insidious. The corruption entailed by gluttony, inebriety, and incontinence may be slow and doubtful, or apparently remitted in moments of recovery; but if one indulge himself in foolhardi- ness or violence, he is like to be repaid on the spot. Hence the latter forms of imprudence are more rare. To avoid imprudence, it is neces- sary to discount that aspect which the interest wears within the period of its immediate fulfil- ment, and thus avoid the necessity of repeating the hard and wasteful lesson of experience. This 86 THE MORAL ECONOMY truth, which is the first principle of all practical wisdom, has been graphically reprepresented in Jeremy Taylor's Rules and Exercises of Holy Living : Look upon pleasures not upon that side that is next the sun, or where they look beauteously, that is, as they come towards you to be enjoyed; for then they paint and smile, and dress themselves up in tinsel and glass gems and counterfeit imagery; but when thou hast rifled and discomposed them with enjoy- ing their false beauties, and that they begin to go off, then behold them in their nakedness and weari- ness. See what a sigh and sorrow, what naked and unhandsome proportions and a filthy carcass they discover; and the next time they counterfeit, remember what you have already discovered, and be no more abused. 1 ? There is a second source of overindulgence in the ever-increasing complexity of the moral economy. The more numerous the interests, the more difficult the task of attending to their connections and managing their adjustment. Not only is the need of prudence never out- grown; it steadily acquires both a greater urgency and a greater difficulty. If incapacity may be said to be the metaphysi- cal evil, the taint of the cosmos at large, 1 joyer- frp ^\c\ tn V thr original sin, the taint of life itself. It is life's offence against itself, the denial of greater life for the sake of the little in hand. It is the perennial failure of the THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 87 individual interest to unite itself with that uni- versal enterprise of which it is the microcosmic The simplest moral economy is that in which twDor more interests are reciprocally adjusted without being subordinated. The principle of orgJHlfeahon'lv'hich dermes such an economy is prudence. Prudence becomes necessary at the moment when interests come into such contact with one another as provokes retaliation. Thus, for example, interests react on one another through being embodied in the same physical organism. Each bodily activity depends on the well-being of co-ordinate functions, and if its exercise be so immoderate as to injure these, it undermines itself. Moderation gains for special interests the support of a general bodily health. But bodily health is not the only medium of interdependence among the interests of a single individual. His interests must draw not only upon a common source of vitality, but also upon a common stock of material resources. The limi- tation of interests that follows from this fact is frugality or thrift, the practical working of the principle that presgnt waste is future lack, and that, therefore, to save now is to spend hereafter. Thrift involves also a special emphasis on liveli- 88 THE MORAL ECONOMY hood, since this is a source of supply for all par- ticular interests. The social^ relation makes_jnterests externally interdependent in a great variety^of Ways. In- teres!s" n "must inhabit one space, exploit one physi- cal environment, and employ ^ common mode of communication. If any interest so acts as unduly to divert one of these mediums to its own uses, it must suffer retaliation from the other interests that likewise depend on that medium. It is prudent to give even one's rival half the road, and to divide the spoils with him. There is a politic form of honesty; and veracity may be conceived only as a kind of caution. Thus Menander says: "It is always best to speak the truth in all circum- stances. This is a precept which contributes most to safety of life." 4 Tact is only a more refined method of avoiding tbfi antagonism of interests that operate within the same field of social intercourse. The economy of prudence has its own char- acteristic value. IndeecTfif this were not so there would be no possibility of that form of base- ness known as being merely prudent. There is a prudential equilibrium; a condition of smooth and harmonious adjustment, within the personal life or the community. I propose that this equi- librium be termed health. In that admirable idealization of renaissance morality, Castigli- THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 89 one's Book oj the Courtier, the author refers to the immediate reward of self-control that comes both from inner harmony and the approba- tion of one's fellowsi Tolnstil goodness into the mind, ""to teach continence, fortitude, justice, temperance," Castiglione would give his prince "a taste of how much sweetness is hidden by the little bitterness that at first sight appears to him who withstands vice; which is always hurtful and displeasing, and accompanied by infamy and blame, just as virtue is profitable, blithe, and full of praise." 5 Socially, the healthful equilibrium corresponds^ to that " peace" which Hobbes praised above all things ;^~ and which is all that is asked for by those who wish to be let alone in order that they may pursue their own affairs. Although such peace may be ignominious, it need not be so; and a sense of security and reciprocal adjustment must remain among the surviving values, what- ever higher achievements be added to it. But the inherent value of health is most clearly defined by a nice equilibration of activities within the medium of the individual organism. I borrow the following description of health in this sense from a recent book by H. G. Wells: The balance a% between asceticism and sensuality comes in, it seems to me, if we remember that to drink well one must not have drunken for some time, 90 THE MORAL ECONOMY that to see well one's eye must be clear, that to make love well one must be fit and gracious and sweet and disciplined from top to toe, that the finest sense of all the joyous sense of bodily well-being comes only with exercises and restraints and fine living. 7 The tejnperance praised by the Greeks is of like quality, with a further reference to the rea- sonableness which it fosters. A prudence which is mastered, which has become a spontaneity, de- livers reason from bondage, and makes the whole of life easily conformable to it. Thus Castiglione, who is so often reminiscent of Plato and Aris- totle, draws a contrast between continence, as the "conquest" of prudence, and temperance as its "beneficent rule." Thus this virtue does not compel the mind, but infusing it by very gentle means with a vehement belief that inclines it to righteousness, renders it calm and full of rest, hi all things equal and well measured, and disposed on every side by a certain self-accord which adorns it with a tranquillity so serene that it is never ruffled, and becomes in all things very obedi- ent to reason and ready to turn its every act thereto and to follow wherever reason may wish to lead it, without the least unwillingnes^i Such is that prudence which, though rich in its own right, is nevertheless subordinate to greater good. """It is proper to regard prudnce__asL_inferior in \ principle^tppurpose and^jgpj^Bdll, or even as ignoble when *CDnUmeain its narrowness. It V.%; THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 91 denotes an organization of life in which as yet no interest has risen above the rest; it bespeaks the common populace of interests, disciplined, but not moved to any eminent achievement. The fact that the validity of the principle of pru- dence is so readily granted is significant of this. Prudence requires no interest to be other than itself, but meets it on its own ground. There is no elevation of motive. But prudence is tEe first and^mpst instructive lesson in morality. TT has a peculiar impressive- ness, not only because it is so promptly and un- mistakably verified, but because it is so close to life. Its meaning is unlikely to be obscured through being abstracted from the real interests whose saving is the proof of its virtue. Further- more, although prudence is not the highest prin- ciple in life, it is a mistake to suppose that it is therefore unnecessary in the highest spheres of life. There is a problem of prudence that under- lies every practical problem whatsoever. If in- terests are to be organized they must be not only subordinated but also co-ordinated, that is, ad- justed within every medium in which they meet. Without moderation, caution, self-control, thrift, and tact there is no serving man or God. As life increases in complexity it is easy to forget these basal precepts. Nature has provided a model, both simple and fundamental, in physical health. 92 THE MORAL ECONOMY "The body," says Burke, "is wiser in its own plain way, and attends its own business more directly than the mind with all its boasted sub- tilty." g The prudential organization of life furnishes the first type of formalism. Prudence requires that the interest shall be limited in order that it may not antagonize other interests and thus in- directly defeat itself. ^Discipline is justified, in other words, by its fruits. But discipline in- volves an initial moment of negation, in which the movement of the interest is resisted. It must be checked, and its headway overcome, if it is to be redirected. The exaggeration of this mo- ment of negation, or a steady persistence in it, is asceticism. Its fault lies in its emptiness, in its destruction or perversion of that which it was designed only to protect against itself. Asceticism appears most frequently as a sub- ordinate metive in some general condemnation of the world on religious grounds, and must re- ceive further consideration in that connection. Its proper meaning as a purely prudential formal- ism is best exhibited in the Greek Cynics. These philosophers were moved to mortify the flesh, and to deny their social interests, by extreme caution. They discovered that the safest method of adjustment was simplification. If one per- mits one's self no desires, one need not suffer THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 93 from their conflict, nor need one treat with the desires of others. Now this would be a very perfect solution of the problem of adjustment, if only there were something left to adjust. If a Cynic can attain to a state of renunciation in which he wants nothingy he will be sure of hav- ing what he wants; only, unfortunately, it will be nothing. Epictetus has thus represented the Cynic's boast: Look at me, who am without a city, without a house, without possessions, without a slave; I sleep on the ground; I have no wife, no children, no prae- torium, but only the earth and heavens, and one poor cloak. And what do I want? am I not with- out sorrow ? Am I not without fear ? Am I not free ? Now it is clear that the sum of the Cynics' at- tainments is not large. It consists, indeed, al- most wholly in a certain hardened complacency, and a freedom to make faces at the world. To the onlooker, whose comment Epictetus also records, their aspect is mean: No: but their characteristic is the little wallet, and staff, and great jaws; the devouring of all that you give them, or storing it up, or the abusing unseason- ably all whom they meet, or displaying their shoulder as a fine thing. 10 In other words, since the Cynic continues to live after having rejected the propertnstruments and forms of life, he must make a living out of the charitable curiosity excited by his very unfitness. 94 THE MORAL ECONOMY . And asceticism of this prudential type tends al- ways to be both empty and monstrous; empty because it denies life, and monstrous because life is not really denied, but only perverted and awkwardly obstructed. There is a materialistic evil corresponding to \ the prudential organization of life which is known as meanness, vulgarity, or sordidness. It denotes a failure to recognize anything better than the fulfilment of the simple interests in their feeveralty.1 ^' _ ""^BEHCk Although guarded and adjusteoltEese still de- termine the general tone of life. The control- ling motive, the standard of attainment, is never anything higher than the elementary desire with , its attendant satisfaction. In its ^negative as- v '.'^pect this is termed aimlessness, and is identical "** * with the Christian vice of idleness, so graphically described by Jeremy Taylor: Idleness is called the sin of Sodom and her daugh- ters, and indeed is the burial of a living man, an idle person being so useless to any purposes of God and man, that he is like one that is dead, unconcerned in the changes and necessities of the world; and he only lives to spend his time, and eat the fruits of the earth: like a vermin or a wolf, when their time comes they die and perish, and in the meantime do no good; they neither plough nor carry burdens; all they do is either unprofitable or mischievous. 11 Thus aimlessness denotes a failure to attain any- thing of worth; a lack of consecutiveness and THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 95 unity. The correction of this fault lies in a new principle of organization. This new principle of organization consists in the incorporation of interests, that is, their sub- ordination to a purpose that embraces them, uni- fies them, and carries the whole to a successful issue. The incorporation of interests is pecul- iarly an intellectual process. It is this to which Socrates refers when Se says that knowledge is virtue. Pur^s^j^quireSjan the ; first place, that one should 1feipe~and foresee the end^ and in the second place, that one should be sagacious and watchful in the service of it. Purpose is the virtue ....61 the understanding, of a mind which is adventurous enough to project an enterprise, but has enough of home-keeping wit to judge nicely of cause and effect or of part and whole. There are many virtues which contribute to purpose, and of these none is more indispensable than patience, or the capacity to labor without hire for a prize deferred. "Better is the end of a thing," says the Preacher, "than the beginning thereof: and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit." Steadiness of purpose under adverse or confusing" circumstances is called persistence, courage, loyalty, or zeal, with 96 THE MORAL ECONOMY differences of meaning that reflect the nature either of the purpose or the circumstances. But since purpose is so much an intellectual virtue, special importance attaches in this econ- omjL-to truthfulness. If one's purpose be some form of personal achievement, one must deal honestly with one's self. And this is not easily done. Epictetus told his pupils that men were loath to admit any fault that they held to be really blameworthy: Some things men readily confess, and other things they do not. No one then will confess that he is a fool or without understanding; but quite the contrary you will hear all men saying, I wish that I had fortune equal to my understanding. But men readily confess that they are timid, and they say: I am rather timid, I confess; but as to other respects you will not find me to be foolish. A man will not readily confess that he is intemperate; and that he is unjust, he will not con- fess at all. He will by no means confess that he is envious or a busybody. Most men will confess that they are compassionate. 11 Now if one is to attain anything difficult, he can- not afford to indulge in vanity or self-satisfaction; for action can be kept true to its end only when the least obliquity is marked and corrected. Hence the strong man does not attribute his failure to fortune or to his amiable virtues, but to Jus folly; for he knows that to be the crucial fault which it lies witkinrhis power to remedy. On the other hand,/if the purpose be one THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 97 which involves the co-operation of several per- sons, it is necessary that these should deal openly and candidly with one another. Truthfulness is a condition of any coUective_ undertaking. It is interesting to observe the growing recognition of the need of publicity wherever democratic institutions prevail, ^ecrecy is a sort of treason. If men are to work together 'lor their common welfare they must be truly in touch with one an- other; otherwise there is a spy at their councils, an incalculable force that may counterwork their plans-J Achievement, the value which the virtue of purpose conditions, needs no moralist's justifica- tion. The world never tires of praising it, for it is the world's business. By achievement I mean the fulfilment by subordinated and cumu- lative effort of an interest deliberately adopted for its greatness of value. Life is now controlled not by the accident of desire, but by the due preference of the better. It has begun to be rational not only in its method, but also in its aim. It is now more fruitful, because more broadly conceived, being engaged in enterprises which continue, and which draw from many sources. Hence a man can better endure the spectacle of his own life, f6r~iFseenis not to be wholly mean or ineffectual. In that his conduct is unified, consistent, and directed to some worthy 98 THE MORAL ECONOMY end, he repossessed of that quality of character which_is respected in him both by himself and by his fellows. v It is unfortunate that there is no better term than sentimentalism with which to indicate that variety of formalism which is characteristic of the purposive economy. The fallacy consists essentially in the abstraction of the purpose from its constituent interests. The true value of a purpose lies in its function of organization; and is, therefore, inseparable from the interests to which it gives unfiy^ and fulfilment. But its form, or even its mere name, may, through asso- ciation, come to acquire a fictitious value. When this fictitious value gives rise in contemplation or discourse to a certain emotional satisfaction, we employ the term "sentimentalism" in the conven- tional sense. This is the sentimentalism of those " Who sigh for wretchedness, yet shun the wretched, Nursing in some delicious solitude Their slothful loves and dainty sympathies." I wish, however, to emphasize a more insidious variety of this error, in which it may be more profoundly and fatally confusing. 1 i I refer, in the first place, to what mayjbejdescribed as deferred living. There is a popular illusion to the effect that a life purpose is to be fruitful only at the end; that it is something to be prepared for in youth, worked for in maturity, and attained THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 99 well, it is difficult to say when. This is the fallacy of heaven transferred to earth. "Man never is, but always to be blest." Life is conceived as a sentence at hard labor, the only sure compensation being the ultimate deliver- ance. Now there is but one justification of a life purpose, and that is its conserving of the whole "of life; it must save "each day and each houfT'There is no more virtue in the future than in the present. "The greatest disaster," says a Greek proverb, "is for a man to be opened and found empty"; and this does not refer to an autopsy. It is at least one function of a life- purpose to make life distributively and continu- ously good. That one's life shall be pointed with a purpose does not mean that it shall be re- duced to a point. The very virtue of organiza- tion lies in its making room for The free play^bf im- mediate and particular interests, in its surrounding themliFa distance with invisible safeguards^ %\ A second important case of sentimentalism ( is nationalism^- ^Fhe value of the state lies in its ' protection and development of the concrete life of the community. The true object of patriotism is social welfare. But for the state as a provident j economy, there may be substituted as an object/ of loyalty what is onlyanjilea-er a name; and! when this is done men are easily persuaded to play into the hands of unscrupulous leaders. TOO THE MORAL ECONOMY To the abominable tyrannies which have thus been made possible I need not refer. In Hegel's philosophy of history, 13 as well as in many mod- ern political theories, this error has been deliber- ately affirmed. But for illustration I prefer to turn to the case of Plato. The Republic was conceived, it is true, without bias of party or race, but there is none the less a strain of arbi- trariness and illibe/ality in it. This is due to the fact that the state is conceived by itself, with a quality and perfection of its own that displaces ] the interests of its citizens. 14 A state which is defined otherwise than as a provision for the very diversity of life, an organization responsive to pressure from every constituent desire, fails from over-simplification. This I take to be the mean- ing of Aristotle's comment on the Republic: The error of Socrates must be attributed to thejalse nption__pf unity from which he starts. Unity there should be, 'both of the family and of the state, but in some respects only. For there is a point at which ^may attain such a degree of unity as to be no a state, or at which, without actually ceasing to exist, it will become an inferior state,, like harmony passing into unison L or rhythm which has been re- duced to single foot. The state is a plurality, which should be united and made into a community by education. 15 There is a chapter in the Discourses of Epic- tetus, entitled: "To or against those who ob- stinately Persist in what they have determined." THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 101 There could, I think, be no better formulation of purpose grown hard and unworthily self-sufficient. This form of materialism I have termed egoism and bigotry, since the purpose may be either per- sonal or social in scope. But in either case the diagnosis of Epictetus goes to the root of the evil. He thus describes his experience with one of his companions, "who for no reason resolved to starve himself to death": I heard of it when it was the third day of his ab- stinence from food, and I went to inquire what had happened. "I have resolved," he said. "But still tell me what it was which induced you to resolve; for if you have resolved rightly, we shall sit with you and assist you to depart; but if you have made an unreasonable resolution, change your mind." "We ought to keep our determinations." "What are you doing, man? We ought to keep not to all our determinations, but to those which are right; for if you are now persuaded that it is right, do not change your mind, if you think fit, but per- sist and say, we ought to abide by our determinations. Will you not make the beginning and lay the founda- tion in an inquiry whether the determination is sound or not sound, and so then build on it firmness and security?" . . . Now this man was with difficulty persuaded to change his mind. But it is impossible to convince some persons at present; so that I seem now to know, what I did not know before, the meaning of the com- mon saying, That you can neither persuade nor break a fool. May it never be my lot to have a wise fool for my friend: nothing is more un tractable. "I 102 THE MORAL ECONOMY am determined," the man says. Madmen are also; but the more firmly they form a judgment on things which do not exist, the more ellebore they require. 16 The wise fool is, as Epictetus says, more in- tractable than the aimless and unwitting fool; because there is substance to his folly. There is at least some truth on his side. But his folly is folly none the less. He hardens himself against that which would save him; while boasting him- self a lover of light, he shuts his eyes lest any ray of it penetrate to him. Thus the egoist, through the atrophy of his sympathies and his preoccupa- tion with a narrow ambitioa^gratuitously^ impover- ishes his life; and it is difficult to- convince him of his loss, because he indubitably has some gain. Bigotry consists essentially in the failure to employ the method of discussion, in the failure to recognize in every rational being a possible source of that truth which all need. It is a stupid for- feiture or waste of the resources of intelligence possessed by one's fellows. The King Creon of Sophocles's Antigone is a masterly repre- sentation of the futility of this pride of opinion. Creon angrily resents every impeachment of his wisdom, insisting on instant and unquestioning obedience. But his son Haemon thus attempts to save him from himself: Father, the gods plant wisdom in mankind, which is of all possessions highest. In what respects you THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 103 have not spoken rightly I cannot say, and may I never learn ; and still it may be possible for some one else to be right too. ... Do not then carry in your heart one fixed belief that what you say and nothing else is right. For he who thinks that he alone is wise, or that he has a tongue and mind no other has, will when laid open be found empty. 17 It was once a practice even among learned men to set personal pride above the truth. The chan- cellor of the University of Paris complains of this practice in the Middle Ages: What are these combats of scholars, if not true cock-fights, which cover us with ridicule in the eyes of laymen? A cock draws himself up against an- other and bristles his feathers. ... It is the same to-day with our professors. Cocks fight with blows from their beaks and claws; "Self-love," as some one has said, "is armed with a dangerous spur." 18 Egoism and bigotry, then, consist essentially^*^ in the^xa^geTaTioiramHmmobility of an adopted purpose. As Ts~"tne case with every variety of materialism, their fault lies in their blindness, in their fatuous rejection of the good that is offered to them. But this is not all. For in de- nying the good which is offered to him, the egoist or bigot also virtually denies the reason which offers it. It is this that constitutes the affront which is called injustice. The full jn fta.n ing of injustice has been recog- / nized only gradually, and it is even now by no means free from confusion. But I think that it 104 THE MORAL ECONOMY will be agreed that the sting of it is a failing in respect. Violence may be wholly without this taint; and the 'most bitter injustice may be wholly without violence. To be unjust is to be conde- scending or supercilious; to assume superiority on personal grounds, ignoring the equal access to truth which is enjoyed by every rational being. The nice quality of injustice is most clearly to be apprehended where it is accompanied by benevo- lent intent. It is one of the princely attributes described in the Book of the Courtier, and justi- fied in a manner that leaves no doubt of its im- 'plied meaning: True it is that there are two modes of ruling: the one imperious and violent, like that of masters toward their slaves, and in this way the soul commands the body; the other more mild and gentle, like that of good princes by means of laws over their subjects, and in this way the reason commands the appetite; and both of these modes are useful, for the body is by nature created apt for obedience to the soul, and so is appetite for obedience to reason. Moreover, there are many men whose actions have to do only with the use of the body; and such as these are as far from virtuous as the soul from the body, and although they are rational creatures, they have only such share of reason as to recognize it, but not to possess or profit by it. These, therefore, are nkturally slaves, and it is better and more profitable for them to obey than to command. 19 Now the essence of injustice lies in this Platonic manner of classifying human beings in terms of THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 105 limited capacities; in assigning to some the de- graded status of the appetites, and to others a limited Acuity of understanding, while arrogat- ing to a few the full power and title of Reason. The resentment of this arrogance is no more than the assertion of that potentiality of reason which distinguishes the animal man; it is his inevitable coming of age, his determination to play the Justice is the mutual respect through which rational purgpse^n^lSp ajrelaiioji of fraternal equality. It is the courteous paying of honor where honor is due. In modern times justice has very properly been identified with tolerance, which is the acknowledgment that one is one's self equally liable to error with another, and that another is equally liable to truth with one's self. Justice attaches a certain finality to the judgment of every individual instrument of reason. Under the form of justice veracity realizes its highest meaning. The truthjsjiot to be administered with paternal indulgence or caution ;4tjsjojbe^yielded as a right to every free and self-determining mind. The practice and the spirit of justice pervade every highly developed social grouping, such as marriage, friendship, or fellow-citizenship in a democracy. For Aristotle a friendship is "one io6 THE MORAL ECONOMY soul dwelling in two bodies"; 20 that is, the same high capacity uniting two individuals in the acknowledgment of its common principles, and in the contemplation of its common objects. Aristotle's other saying, thaf~ rr man is a political animal," is inspired with the same meaning. To participate in the life of a state, in which one's fellow-citizens were^ one's equals, in which men with equal endowments carried on one united activity while acknowledging one another's in- dependence, was to an Athenian the very fulness of life. Te be banished from it was, even in the eyes of the law, equivalent to death. In a chapter of his Physics and Politics, en- titled "The Age of Discussion," Bagehot has admirably represented the importance for human progress of an open exchange of opinion on all matters of great -consequence: In this manner all the great movements of thought in ancient and modern times have been nearly con- nected in time with government by discussion. Athens, Rome, the Italian republics of the Middle Ages, the communes and states-general of feudal Europe, have all had a special and peculiar quicken- ing influence, which they owed to their freedom, and which states without that freedom have never com- municated. And it has been at the time of great epochs of thought at the Peloponnesian War, at the fall of the Roman Republic, at tHe Reformation, at the French Revolution that such liberty of speaking and thinking have produced their full effect." THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 107 Elsewhere Bagehot attributes to freedom of dis- cussion, not only the deliverance from narrow and conventional habits, but that general elef- vation of tone which is characteristic of such an era as the Elizabethan age in England. In short, justice or toleration, since it encourages men to push on to the limit of their powers, promotes not only originality and diversity, but a love of perfection. It will have been observed that justice and freedom are complementary, for he who is just liberates, and he who is free receives justice. Together they constitute the basis of all the higher relationships between men, of a progressive society, and of the whole constructive movement which we call civilization. But it is possible to construe justice and free- dom only negatively, as meaning that the indi- vidual is to be allowed to go his way in peace. Such a misconception is formalistic, in that it rests on a failure to recognize the providence or fruitful- ness of justice. The virtue of justice lies not in its disintegration of society, but in its enabling the members of society tp_ unite upon the highest plane of endeavor. .. Justice is a method where- with men may profit collectively, and in their organized effort, from a sum of enlightenment to which every individual contributes his best. Anarchism rests in the negative protest against io8 THE MORAL ECONOMY conformity; forgetting that the only right to liberty is founded on the possession of a reason- ableness that inclines the individual to the uni- versal; and forgetting that the, only virtue~ln liBerty lies in the opportunity for union and de- votion which it provides. There is a more restricted form of anarchism in scepticism which attaches finality to differences of opinion, and overlooks^the^i'actjhat these very differences must beTegarded as converging ap- \ ^*"-* ^-*^^^**^ ^^^^ "^^*^^^**^r^r^T*^**"^^*^* prnarfofK; tn the common truth. For men can differ only in the presence of identical objects which virtually annul their difference. To be free to think as one pleases cannot but mean to think as truly as possible, and so to approach as closely as possible to what others also tend to think. But a larger importance attaches to that mild variety of anarchism which is commonly called laissez-faire^ and which Matthew Arnold calls British Atheism or Quietism. The reader will recall Arnold's quotation from the Times: It is of no use for us to attempt to force upon our neighbors our several likings and dislikings. We must take things as they are. Everybody has his own little vision of religious or civil perfection. Under the evident impossibility of satisfying everybody, we agree to take our stand on equal laws and on a system as open and liberal as is possible. The result is that everybody has more liberty of action and of speaking here than anywhere else in the Old World THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 109 And from Mr. Roebuck: I look around me and ask what is the state of England? Is not every man able to say what he likes? I ask you whether the world over, or in past history, there is anything like it? Nothing. I pray that our unrivalled happiness may last." This is an almost perfect representation of the sentimental interesFm~]ustice. In the course of sucE justice, "ttone~oT"tis should see salvation." It leaves wholly out of account the fact that when men are left free to talk or act or live as they will, they will either stagnate, or they will strive for the best and help it to prevail. If the latter, they will be brought back to the state as the means of making right reason effective, and of extending to all not simply the leave to be what they want to be, of following what Arnold calls their "natural taste of the bathos," but the oppor- tunity of learning better. Justice^ like purpose and pnidenr.ft J __j?^jTrm- \ ciple of organization, owing its virtue to the I larger fulfilment of interest which it makes- possi- ble. Through this principle the individual is granted independence, in order that his freedom may remove every limit from his service. He is delivered from the bondage of violence and con- vention, but he is delivered into the charge of hisown reason, which must give bonds not only that he will Zfcep the peace, but that he will give no THE MORAL ECONOMY himself wholly to that true good which he may now discern. In justice the human secular society is_perfected. By a secular society I mean a society held to be self-sufficient, as it is; a society in which only those interests are acknowledged which are actually present, or have actually been admitted to a place of power or prestige. But secularism or worthiness in this sense suffers from the gen- y eral error of materialism, the error of mistaking the dejacio good for the whole good. It is only another case of that blindness which is the pen- alty of all self-sufficiency. The ancient and the * modern types of worldliness present an interest- ing difference which will serve to illustrate their common fault. Greek literature abounds in the glorification of the life already achieved. Thus SolorPasks no more of the gods than to be fortunate and hon- ored: " Grant unto me wealth from the blessed gods, and to have alway fair fame in the eyes of all men. Grant that I may thus be dear to my friends, and bitter to my foes; revered in the sight of the one, awful in the sight of the other." 23 To this Pindar adds the petition that, "being dead I may set upon my children a name that shall be of no ill report." ** Even the ideal of the philosophers is only a refinement of this; recog- THE ORDER OF VIRTUE in nizing the superiority of such activities as engage the imagination or reason, but nevertheless find- ing happiness to be complete in terms of the ful- filment of the dominant desires within the exist- ing political community. This conception was vaguely distrusted, it is true; but it represents the characteristic enlightenment of the most enlight- ened centre of Greek life. Its insufficiency was not clearly demonstrated until the advent of Chris- tianity; when it was proved to lie in a lack of pityr^Now pity is not, as is sometimes supposed, TTdnd of weakness; it is ajdrid^ knowledge, wherewith men are reminded oFoSscure and neg- lected interests. It is easy to^im^erstand why the Christian revolution should have been re- garded as destructive of culture. For it meant not the qualitative refinement of the good, but the quantitative distribution of it. But it none the less marks an epoch in moral enlightenment; since the bringing of all men up to one level of opportunity and welfare is as essential a part of the good as the cultivation of distinction. ' The modern worldliness consists not in a lack of pity, but in a lack of Imaji/mition. Philistinism, as Matthew Arnold describes it, is a complacent satisfaction with the kind of good that is praised and sought for in any given time. Such com- placency is found in its most extreme form among those reformers or even religious leaders who are ii2 THE MORAL ECONOMY devoted to the saving of men; for these come to overrate their wares through the very act of pressing them upon others. Matthew Arnold never tires of illustrating this from the Liberal propaganda of his day: And I say that the English reliance on our religious organisations and on their ideas of human perfection just as they stand, is like our reliance on freedom, on muscular Christianity, on population, on coal, on wealth mere belief in machinery, and unfruitful; and that it is wholesomely counteracted by culture, bent on seeing things as they are, and on drawing the human race onwards to a more complete, a harmoni- ous perfection. 25 In other words, both humanism and humani- tarianism may be lacking in humanity: human- ism, on account of its insensibility to pain and hunger and poverty when these lie outside a nar- row radius of bright intensive living; humani- tarianism, on account of its failure to honor the highest type of attainment and to prefigure a perfection not yet realized. . There is but flne economy of interests which fur- nishesjhe proper sphere of moral action, namely, the universal economy which embraces within one system all interests whatsoever, present, remote, and pote&tiak' The validity of this economy lies in the fact that the goodness of action cannot THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 113 be judged without reference to all the interests affected, whether directly or indirectly. To live well is to live for all life. The control of action by thisjnotive is the virtue of goocT-wilt It should be added that the good will must be not only compassionate, but just; offering to help, without failing to respect. And it must be not only devoted, but also enlightened; serving, but not without self-criticism and insight. Such a programme need not seem bewildering or quixotic. If my action does not offend those most nearly concerned, it will scarcely offend those removed by space, time, or indirection. Charity begun at home is spread abroad without my further endeavor. Furthermore, it is good- will rather than a narrow complacency that in- spires my assuming of the special tasks and re- sponsibilities defined by proximity, descent, and special aptitude. Life as a whole is built out of individual opportunities and vocations. It is required only that while I live effectively and happily, as circumstance or choice may determine, I should conform myself to those principles which harmonize life with life, and bring an abundance on the whole out of the fruitfulness of individual effort. Good-will is the moral condition of religion, where this^is corrected by firtlffiteampnf The religion of good-will is best illustrated, from the ii4 THE MORAL ECONOMY European tradition, in the transition from pagan- ism to Christianity. I have said that the Greeks were not without distrust of that natural and worldly happiness which they most praised. This^for example, is the testimony of Euripides: Long ago I looked upon man's days, and found a grey Shadow. And this thing more I surely say, That those of all men who are counted wise, Strong wits, devisers of great policies, Do pay the bitterest toll. Since life began, Hath there in God's eye stood one happy man? Fair days roll on, and bear more gifts or less Of fortune, but to no man happiness. 28 This note of jjgssiniism grows more marked among the philosophers, and is at length taken up into the Christian renunciation of the world. The philosophers attempted to devise a way of happiness which the superior individual might follow through detaching himself from political society and cultivating his speculative powers. 17 But the Christian renunciation involved the abanckinmeHtr^ -every -claim to individual self- sufficiency, even "the -pride of reason. It ex- pressed a sense of the general plight of humanity, and looked for relief only through a power with love and might enough to save all. Hence there is this fundamental difference between pagan and Christian pessimism f the pagan confesses his powerlessness to make himself impregnable THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 115 to fortune, while the Christian convicts himself of sin, confessing his worthlessness when measured by the task of universal salvation. The one pities and absolves himself; the other condemns himself. Now the other-worldliness of Christianity was without doubt a grave error, which it found itself compelled to correct; but it was none the less the vehicle through which European civilization became* possessed of the most important secrets of religious happiness v 'j In the first place, all are made sharers, through sympathy, in the failure of the present; and, thus distributed, the burden is lightened. "It is an act- within the power of charity," says Sir Thomas Browne, "to translate a passion out of one breast into an- other, and to divide a sorrow almost out of itself; for an affliction, like a dimension, may be so di- vided as, if not indivisible, at least to become insensible." "Jw In the second place, it is under- stood that there is no such thing as a happiness that is enjoyed at the expense of others and by the special favor of fortuneT' There is no prom- ise of individual salvation save in the salvation of^jalL^ A private and protected happiness is bound sooner or later to be destroyed by an in- crease of sensibility, by an enlightened awareness of the evil beyond. And to experience evil, to realize it, and yet to be content, lies not within n6 THE MORAL ECONOMY the power of any moral being; it is not merely difficult, it is self-contradictory. To any one who judges himself fairly, with a wide and vivid image of life as it is in all its ramifications and obscurities, the evil of the world is all one. It follows that, as there is nqjDerfect happiness ex- cept in the annihilation of evil, so there can be no peace of mind, no self-respect, no sense of living truly and for the best, unless one's action can be conceived as wholly saving and up-building, as contributing in its place and in its way to the gen- eral forward movement. This, I think, isThe deeper explanation of the buoyancy of devoted people, of that buoyancy which wa a source of such great wonder to the disillusioned wise men of ancient times. And this, I think, is the mean- ing of the Christian teaching that it is more blessed to give than to receive; and that the love of one's God is to grow out of the love of one's neighbor. I have endeavored to show that the highest good is the greatest good; that it may not only be inferrecTtfom the present good, but that it actually consists of the present good, with more like it, ^ and witrTtEe present evil eliminated. By mysti- / cism I mean that species of forrnajism in which ^ the highest good, out of respect for its exaltation, J^W. is divorced from thejpresent good, and so emptied of content. Professor James has said that it is THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 117 characteristic of rationalists and sentimentalists, to "extract a quality from the muddy particu- lars of experience, and find it so pure when ex- tracted that they contrast it with each and all its muddy instances as an opposite and higher nature." 29 There is a peculiar liability to such / abstraction in religion, for religion involves~~aT judgment of insufficiency against every limited achievement. A longing after unqualified good is the very breath of enlightened religion; and in order that that ideal may be kept pure, it must not be identified with any partial good. Indeed, the office of religion requires it to condemn as only partial, good that is commonly taken to be sufficient. Now there is only one way of defining a good that shall be universal without being merely formal, and that is by defining perfection quanti- tatively rather than qualitatively; substituting for the Platonic Absolute Good, in which the present good is refined away into a phrase or symbol, the maximum good, in which the present good is saved and multiplied. He who believes that he conceives goodness otherwise than as the good which he already possessesTdeceives him- self; as does the author of the Religio Medici, when he says: That wherein God Himself is happy, the holy Angels are happy, in whose defect the Devils are un- happy, that dare I call happiness; whatsoever con- n8 THE MORAL ECONOMY duceth unto this may with an easy Metaphor deserve that name; whatsoever else the World terms Happi- ness, is to me a story out of Pliny, a tale of Boccace or Malizspini, an apparition, or neat delusion, wherein there is no more of Happiness than the name. Bless me in this life with but peace of my Conscience, com- mand of my affections, the love of Thyself and my dearest friends, and I shall be happy enough to pity Caesar. 30 Now it is safe to say that Sir Thomas Browne was in fact unable to attribute to God and the angels any other happiness than these same blessings which he covets for himself, saving only that they shall be without stint, and joined with others like tKem. ^ Formalism, as we have seen, is never merely negative in inconsequences; for any moral un- truth, since it replace's a truth, cannot fail to per- vert life. Thus one may be persuaded with the author whom I have just quoted to count the world, "not an Inn, but an Hospital; and a place not to live, but to dye in." 31 I do not suppose that any one ever succeeded in wholly resisting the hospitality of this world, and one suspects that Thomas Browne partook not a little of its good cheer; but the opinion is false notwithstanding, and if false, then confusing and misleading. This world is not a place to suffer in, nor even a place to be mended in, but the only opportunity of achievement and service that can be certainly THE ORDER OF VIRTUE 119 counted on. The good is in the making here, if it is in the making anywhere. To neglect life here is equivalent to forfeiting it altogether. Religious formalism may induce jiot. only a default of presgnt opportunity and responsibility, but also a substitution for good living of an emo- tional improvisation on the theme of absolute perfection, like that in the Book of the Courtier : If, then, the beauties which with these dim eyes of ours we daily see in corruptible bodies, . . . seem to us so fair and gracious that they often kindle most ardent fire in us, ... what happy wonder, what blessed awe, shall we think is that which fills the souls that attain to the vision of divine beauty! What sweet flame, what delightful burning, must that be thought which springs from the fountain of supreme and true beauty! which is the source of every other beauty, which never waxes nor wanes: ever fair, and of its own self most simple in every part alike; like only to itself, and partaking of none other; but fair in such wise that all other fair things are fair because they derive their beauty from it. This is that beauty identical with highest good. 82 Now I do not want to be understood as condemn- ing this mysticism out of hand. I mean only that while it is eloquent and purifying, it is, never- theless, not illuminating; and that if it be mis- taken for illumination, it does in fact hide the light. It has no meaning whatsoever except the? general idea of the superlative, and if it be not' attached to some definite content drawn from \ 120 THE MORAL ECONOMY experience of acts and their consequences, it does but substitute a phrase for the proper-objects of action ancTan emotion for provident conduct. ~~There is a further moral_danger in mysticism, which I need only mention here, because I pro- pose to discuss it more fully in the chapter on re- ligion. Since mysticism opposes a forraaLperfec- tion to the concrete good of experience, it tends to obscure the distinction between good and evil. That distinction lies within experience, and if experience as a whole be discredited, the dis- tinction is discredited with it. If the common, familiar good is not to be taken as valid, then finality no longer attaches to that common, familiar evil which the moral will has been trained to con- demn and resist. If the good lie " beyond good and evil," then neither is the good good nor the evil evil. The result is to leave the moral will without justification, supported only by habit and custom. The virtue of piety lies in its completing, not in its replacing, secular efficiency. It gives to a life that is provident and fruitful as it goes, the stimulus of a momentous project, and reverence for a good that shall embrace unlimited possi- bilities. THE ORDER OF In reviewing the several levels of life which morality defines, we may observe two types of universal value. The lower values m relation to the higher are indispensable!^ There is no health without satisfaction^no achievement with- out health* no rational intercourse without achievement, and no true religion except as the perfecting and completing of a rational society. The higher values, on the other hand, are more < universal than the lower in that they surpass J^ these invalidity, and are entitled to preference. Thus the lower values are ennobled by the higher, while the higher are given body and meaning by the lower. Satisfaction derives dignity from being controlled by the motive of good-will, while the moral kingdom at large derives its wealth, its pertinence to life, and its incentive, from the great manifold of particular interests which it conserves and fosters. It is the formal rather than the material prin/ ciple in life which definesthe^ direction of moral j in life which defines^the^ direction of effort. By^rudence^purjpose, fustice, anoood- wflr life is regenerated and urged, against the resistance of inertia, towards its maximum of at- tainment. Hence these are the virtues which make men heroes, and which are symBplized in / manners and in worship. Manners are a sym- 122 THE MORAL ECONOMY bolic representation of rational intercourse; thus courtesy is a ceremony of respect, chivalry of service, and modesty of self-restraint and imperson- ality. Worship is similarly a symbolic representa- tion of good- will and hope. Upon the cultivation of " those outward and sensible motions which may express or promote an invisible devotion" human life is dependent not only for its graciousness, but for its discipline and growth. CHAPTER IV THE MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS THE phrase "philosophy of history" is at present somewhat in disrepute. It enjoys much / & */ the same unpopularity among historians as does the /^/ *) term " metaphysics " among scientists, and prob- ably for the same reason. It is assumed that such a discipline must either violate or exceed the facts in the interests of some a priori conception. Doubtless some philosophies of history have been guilty of this charge; but they do not, I am sure, exhaust the possibilities in the case. In the present chapter I shall present an outline of what might fairly be regarded as a philosophy of his- S tory, but which neveTfrleless dues no more 1 than attempt a precise definition of principles which evenlte~rristorian is forced to employ. I shall not attempt to define the task of history, except in the broadest terms. The form which its results should finally assume is a matter of dispute among historians themselves. But it is at least possible to indicate the field of history in terms that will command general assent. , In the first placeT^nlstory deals with change, with the 123 124 THE MORAL ECONOMY temporal sequence of events; and in the second 2;place, it confines itself to such events as belong to what is called human conduct. Entirely apart from theories of method or technique, it seems clear that any established fact falling within this description belongs properly to that body of knowledge which we call history. N/I wish especially to call attention to the fact that history deals with human conduct. It deals, in other words, with actions which serve inter- ests; with needs, desires, and purposes as these are fulfilled or thwarted in the course of time. Its subject-matter, therefore, is moral. It de- scribes" trie clash of interests, tne failure or suc- cess of ambition, the improvement or decay of nations; in short, all things good and evil in so far as they have been achieved and recorded. And the broader the scope of the historian's study the more clearly do these moral principles emerge. The present-day emphasis on the accu- rate verification of data somewhat obscures, but does not negate the fact, that every item of detail is in the end brought under some judgment of \ good or evil, of gain or loss in human welfare. All history is virtually a history of civilization; and civilization is a moralconception referring to the sum ^TTiu"manjLchievement in so far as~thfe-is pronounced good. Now there""is" a branch of philosophy called MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 125 "ethics," to which is committed the investigation of moral conceptions. These conceptions are as much subject to exact analysis as conceptions of motion or organic behavior. And such an an- alysis must underlie all judgments concerning the condition of mankind in any time or place, if these judgments make any claim to truth. The > application of ethical analysis to the recorded life of man is a philosophy of history. 1 SucrT^a dfeciplineTs charged wilh the crrtieism of the past in terms of critical principles which have been explicitly formulated. With a knowledge of what it means to be good or evil one may con- clude in all seriousness whether the fortunes of society in any time or place were good or evil. One may with meaning distinguish between those who have been the friends and the enemies of so- ciety; and one may refer to the growth or decay of nations with some notion of what these terms signify. But it will be the main problem of a philosophy of history to deliver some "verdict concerning the progress or decline of institutions, and of civilization at large. It is necessary that we should at once rid^ojir minds of false notions concerning the meaning of progress. ^This conception has been greatly con- fused during recent times through being identi- fied with evolution in the biological sense. It should be perfectly clear vporal 126 THE MORAL ECONOMY may not be progressive; it means only a con- tinuous modification of life in accordance with the ! demands of the environment. Even where this y modification takes the direction of increasing complexity it does not necessarily constitute betterment; and it is entirely consistent with the principle of adaptation that it should take the re- verse direction. Biological evolution signifies only a steady yieMing to the pressure of the physical environment^* whether for better or for worse. LJ It is also importanT*noT to confuse the concep- tion of progress with that of mere change or tem- duration. Because society^ has grown older it has not necessarily on that account grown wiser; nor because it has changed much has it necessarily on that account changed for the better. Whether the accumulations of the past are wealth or rubbish is not to be deter- mined by their bulk. Progress cleared of these ambiguities means, thenpa change from good to better; an increase, in the course of time, of the value of life, whatever that may be. Taken in the absolute sense it means, not a gain here or a gain there, but a gain on the whole. It is impossible to reach any con- clusion whatsoever concerning progress except in the light of some conception of the total enter- prise of life. Every advance must be estimated not merely in relation to the interest immediately MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 127 served, but in relation to that whglejcomplex of interests In discussing progress I shall therefore with right employ those moral conceptions which I have akeady^jiefined. I shall regard as good whatever fulfils interests, and ^as~ morally whatever fulfils all interests affected to the maxi- mum degree. Especial importance now attaches to the principle which I have phrased the quanti-j~ tative basis of preference. Since progress in- volves the change from good to better, it implies an increment of value. The later age is judged to be as~goo(l and better. I can see no way of verifying such a proposition unless it be possible to find in the greater good both the lesser good and also sometlnng_added to it and likewise ac- counted good. IiTotEer words, progress involves measurement of va.lue T and this involves some unit of value which is common to the terms compared. The method must be in the last an-lrf alysis that of super]mj:>sition. ( A^^i, Bagehot virtually employs this method in the chapter of his Physics and Politics, which he entitles "Verifiable Progress Politically Con- sidered." Let me quote, for example, his com- parison of the Englishman with the primitive Australian. If we omit the higher but disputed topics of morals and religion, we shall find, I think, that the plainer 128 THE MORAL ECONOMY and agreed-on superiorities of the Englishmen are these: ^first, that they have a greater command over the powers of nature upon the whole. Though they may falf short of individual Australians in certain feats of petty skill, though they may not throw the boomerang as well, or light & fire with earthsticks as well, yet on the whole twenty Englishmen with their implements and skill can change the material world immeasurably more than twenty Australians and their machines. ' Secondly, that this power is not external only; it is also internal. The English not only possess better machines for moving nature, but are themselves better machines. Mr. Babbage taught us years ago that one great use of machinery was not to augment the force of man, but to register and regulate the power of man; and this in a thousand ways civilized man can do, and is ready to (}o, better and more precisely than the barbarian J 'Thirdly, civilized man has not only greater powers over nature, but knows.better how to use them, and by better I here mean better for the Tiealth and comfort of his present body and mind. He can lay up for old age, which a savage having no durable means of sustenance cannot; he is ready to lay up because he can distinctly foresee the future, which the vague-minded savage j cannot. 2 It will be observed that in each case the superi- ority of the Englishmen lies in the fact that they beat the Australians at' their own game. Aus- tralians are as much interested as Englishmen in ^obtaining command over nature, Sn organizing their own powers/'and in securing health and comfort. The Englishmen, however, can fulfil these interests not only up to but also beyond MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 129 the point which marks the limit oi the Australians' attainment. The method of superimposkion-is virtually employed in all competitive struggle. The glory and fruits of victory are sought by both oppo- nents, and the success of one is the failure of the other. The superiority of the victor to the van- quished is beyond question only because they had the same interest at stake. The application of this method to the determi- nation of progress is not confined to philosophers of history." It is applied by every individual who realizes that his advance from childhood to ma- turity has been attended with growth and devel- opment. For the old boundaries of childhood still remain as evidence of the greater magnitude of the life which has outgrown them. Similarly every man may mark within himself the various limits which once bounded him, but which he has since exceeded in consequence of steady and con- secutive effort. The progress of mankind at large differs only in complexity and range. It can be tested and determined only because identical interests persist. If men had not in all times wanted the same things it would be im- possible to measure their attainments. Their successes and failures would be incommensura- ble. But the Qld needs and the old hopes yet remain. The problem of life which was from i 3 o THE MORAL ECONOMY the beginning is a problem still. //If it can be ^ ; o shown that the old needs are met more easily, / J) along with new needs besides,^ that there is bet- ter promise That the hopes will be fulfilled,|and that the general problem of life is nearer a solu- tion, then human progress will have been demon- strated. I propose, in the first place, to discuss two general principles, the operation of which is^cpn^ ducive_to__progress. One of these principles is external, that is, it relates to the environment of life rather than to its internal economy; and to this I shall turn first. The external environment of life is in some re- spects favorable, in other respects unfavorable. Now, strangely enough, it is the tMavorable rather than the favorable aspect of the environ- ment tw roniirftft fr> pfogf*Je Progress, or even the least good, would, of course, be impossi- ble, unless the mechanical environment was mor- ally plastic. The fact that nature submits to the organization which we call life is a fundamental and constant condition of all civilization. But there is nothing in the mere compliance of nature to press life forward. It is the menace of nature which stimulates progress. It is because nature always remains a source of difficulty and danger MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 131 that life is provoked to renew the war and achieve a more thorough conquest. Nature will not per- mit life to keep what it has unless it gains more. The external environment of life embraces not only mechanical nature, but also such out- lying units of life as have not yet been brought into harmonious relations. Conflict between in- dividuals, tribes, races, or nations operates in a manner analogous to mechanical nature. It ex- erts a constant pressure in the direction of greater strength and efficiency. In order that man shall not be robbed by his enemies of what he already has, he must forever be attempting to make himself impregnable and formidable. But war and the struggle with nature not only put a premium on the better organization of life; they also make it a condition of permanence. Superior individuals survive when inferior indi- viduals perish in the struggle, or the superior type obtains an ascendency over the inferior. In human warfare the defeated party is rarely if ever utterly annihilated; it tends, however, to lose its prestige or even its identity through being assimilated to the victorious party. In either case; that form of life which in conflict proves itself j the stronger, tends to prevail, through the exclu- sion of those forms which prove themselves weaker. An unfavorable environment has, then, oper- ated externally to develop coherence and unity 132 THE MORAL ECONOMY in life. But the cost has been prodigious, and must be subtracted from the gain. For there is no virtue in conflict save the strength of the victor. Man has made a virtue of this necessity; but to obviate so dire a necessity becomes one of the first tasks which civilization undertakes. The attempt to eliminate conflict, and reduce to a minimum the sacrifice of special interests, marks the operation of the internal or moral principle of progress. During the historical period this prin- ciple assumes a constantly~greater prominence. A society may be said to be internally progres- sive when it can afford to withdraw some~oFlts' energies from the struggle for existence, and de- vote~tfaera to the improvement of meTEod and the savmg"oTwaste! Its stability and "security" must be so farguaranteed as to make it safe to under- take a reconstruction, calculated to provide more fully for its constituent interests and develop its latent possibilities. There now obtains, within limits that tend steadily to expand, what B age- hot calls "government by discussion," that is, the regulation of action by the'mvention, selec- tion, and trial of the best means. This substi- tution of rational procedure for custom is anTrre- versible and germinal process. Let me quote Bagehot's account of it: A government by discussion, if it can be borne, at once breaks down the yoke of fixed custom. The MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 133 idea of the two is inconsistent. As far as it goes, the mere putting up of a subject to discussion is a clear admission that that subject is in no degree settled by established rule, and that men are free to choose in it. ... And if a single subject or group of sub- jects be once admitted to discussion, ere long the habit of discussion comes to be established, the sacred charm of use and wont to be dissolved. " Democracy," it has been said in modern times, "is like the grave; it takes, but it does not give.'* The same is true of " discussion." Once effectually submit a subject to that ordeal, and you can never withdraw it again; you can never again clothe it with mystery, or fence it by consecration; it remains forever open to free choice, and exposed to profane deliberation. 3 The strength of custom or established authority lies in prompt and undivided action against ex- ternal enemies; but its weakness lies in its exces- sive cost to the interests within. And when there is leisure and security for deliberation, the policy and organization of society must respond at once to the claims of these interests. Development is now due to a mojal rather than to a mechanical principle; that is, the surviving type of life is due not to pressure and elimination from without, but to a provident concern that emanates from within. There is a deliberate intention to pro- mote survival, those interests alone being re- stricted or suppressed which do not comply with this intention. There evolves not a selected group of strong individuals, but a strong com- munity, strong because both full of life, or rich I 3 4 THE MORAL ECONOMY in incentive, and also harmonious. And within such a community the strength of individuals lies not in a sheer power to resist the strain of com- petition, but in the rational and moral capacity to utilize the resources of the entire community. Through moral organization the strong are made stronger at the same time that the weak are made strong. ) Strictly speaking, there is only one internal prin- iple^of progresSjjiamely, rationality. By raflon- dity^in this connection, I mean the knowledge of the good, and the correction of existing usages through which it is accidentally or wantonly frus- trated. If fulfilment be the motive of life, and maximum fulfilment be the good, then any existing usage stands condemned when it is proved to in- volve unnecessary sacrifice. And such usages will be condemned, and in the long run rejected, wher- ever there is an opportunity for self-assertion and discussion among the various interests concerned. But such corrgc^jon may be^ initiated either by a positive or a negative motive. It may result either from the action of those who seek con- structively to promote the general welfare of so- ciety, or from the action of those who protest against society in behalf of neglected - interests. The first is constructive reform, the second, revolu- tion. Constructive reform is the work of disinterested MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 135 reflection. It may originate in speculation, as political or social theory; or it may originate in the solution of a practical problem. Plato has described the type of mind which in either case it requires: a mind which is free from individual or party bias, and which represents and co-ordi- nates all the interests of the community. Now the failure of political and social theories as measures of reform is proverbial; none failed more com- pletely and conspicuously than Plato's own. And it is not difficult to see why this should be the case; for, as a rule, they are adapted neither to the habits and intelligence of the time, nor to the actual instruments of practical efficiency. But it may be observed that the distance between the philos- opher and the man of affairs is considerably shorter than it used to be. The method of dis- cussion being once generally adopted, action, both individual and social, is pervaded with theory. Even the man of affairs cannot easily avoid being a philosopher. And even in distinguishing as sharply as I have between theory and practice, I have simply fol- lowed a customary habit of thought that is on the whole misleading. For, in truth, it is as impossi- ble for the man of affairs to avoid disinterested reflection, as it is for ^he commercial traveller to be unsociable. The activity of the one has to do with the, organization of a wide range of inter- 136 THE MORAL ECONOMY ests, as the activity of the other has to do with the capitalization of good-fellowship. Those of you who are familiar with the First Book of Plato's Republic will remember the account given there of the forced benevolence of the tyrant. It is, I believe, one^bT^the great classics in ethical theory; and although its full meaning will not appear until we deal directly with the problem of government, I must allude to it here for the sake of the principle involved. The sophist of the dialogue, one Thrasymachus, attempts to overthrow Socrates's conclusion that virtue is essentially beneficent, by pointing to the case of the tyrant, who is eminent and power- ful, as every one would wish to be, but who is at the same time wholly unscrupulous. He is the symbol of success, in that he can on all occasions do what it pleases him to do, and with no regard for the feelings of others. Now Socrates in his reply is not satisfied to show that even the tyrant must have some scruples; he goes to the length of asserting that the tyrant must of all persons in the community have the most scruples. And the reason which Socrates advances is unanswer- able. The tyrant is the one person in the com- munity who has to please everybody. He owes his position and power, not to any directly pro- ductive activity, such as agriculture, industry, or military service, but wholly to his skill in organi- MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 137 zing and promoting interests that are not primarily his own. To be sure, he has his hire; but to earn it he must pay every man his price. Now let us apply this to the general case of the man of affairs. It forfows that just in so far as action is broadrin scope, it must be considerate and just. To conduct enterprises on-~a large scale involves contact with many interests, and these interests, once affected, must either be under- stood and provided for or else antagonized. The greater the enterprise, the more truly does it exist by sufferance; it depends on the support of those who profit by it, and if that support be withdrawn, it collapses into absolute impotence. The ancient Cynics were right in thinking that the only man who can afford to be indifferent to the interests of his fellows is the man who renounces ambition and retires to his tub. Once the era of civilization is inaugurated, *j power depends on moral capacity, that is, the r capacity to protect anoT~promote"""a considerable number^of ^interests, and inris will their backing. This~is~ prb^eoTiri every field of human activity, military, political, religious, intellectual, social, or commercial. Commerce and industry afford at present the most striking examples. The manl who succeeds is the man who can satisfy the great-/ est number of appetites. And the more his enter-' prise grows the more it becomes a public concern; 138 THE MORAL ECONOMY and the more, therefore, must he be studious of public welfare and responsive to public opinion. Thus manufacturing, transportation, or banking, when conducted on a large scale, touch life at so many points, that he who seeks to gain power or wealth by means of them will gradually and with- out any abrupt change of motive approximate the method of disinterested service. So every sta- tion in life, from that of the ruler to that of the shopkeeper, has its own characteristic form of the one problem of meeting, adjusting and ful- filling interests. The desire to be successful or to attain eminence in one's station exerts a con- stant pressure in the direction of the invention, trial, and selection of methods that will solve this problem. And such methods once devised are at once supported by the interests they serve, and become necessary to the life of the com- munity. Now the wise leader ^anticipates the needs and wishes of his followers, and so enjoys TEelr con- tinued support without ever seeming to depend on it. But there are very few such wise leaders. The reason for their scarcity lies in the natural inertia of profitable activities. There is a uni- versal propensity to let well enough alone. So methods are allowed to outlive their usefulness, or remain unmodified when more provident and fruitful methods could be devised. When leader- MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 139 ship thus fails to be statesmanlike and far-sighted, there occurs that uprising of the disaffected in- terests which is called revolution. Jol Revolution, then, is the self-assertion of the, various constituent interests which do not find room_or fair measjirgwitnin the existing organiza- Jiorj^ The evidence of the insufficiency of pres- ent methods being neglected by those in charge, that evidence makes itself known. In the long run this is the surest principle of progress, because it is brought into operation by those who have a nearer ^.or more indispensable interest at stake. It is unquestionably to the interest of the individ- ual who heads an enterprise to conduct it ration- ally, that is, to make it always as productive as possible for all the interests which it serves. But if s he fails he may not at once incur the penalty, or be conscious-oHr/if he-does; he may only for- feit an increase of power, or render his position precarious. On the other hand, to the constit- uent interest which is sacrificed, this same~failure may mean luss of bread or even loss of life. Hence the latter is more sure to move in the mat- ter. Justice is more urgently needed by the slave who rebels, tfeair-tqr the master who may be brought tKrough enlightenment to liberate him. I Thus neglected interests have been the conscience^/ of every great h'umaii refurinr Let me_cile^the / two greatest cases of this in the history of Euro- * i 4 o THE MORAL ECONOMY pean civilization, Christianity and the French Revolution. Christianity as a social revolution was a pro- test against the existing order ~on the part of in- terests which it did not recognize. I do not mean that these interests were not tolerated; they were, of course, protected, and even given a legal status. But in the reckoning of good and evil'tEey were (not counted. Women and slaves, the poor, the ill-born, and the ignorant, were instruments which f the happy man might use, or incidents of life which might test his charity and magnanimity. These classes rose to overthrow no single insti- tution, but a^vhole conception_oLU|gL or^stand- ard of well-being which was denned to exclude them^yin paganism, which did not pass with the advent of Christianity, but still lingers as the creed of the very precious souls, humanity is con- ceived only qualitatively, and not quantitatively. The good of tHe race is conceived to consist in the perfection ^of a few, chosen for their superior en- dowment and fortune. The eminent refinement and nobility of these demigods is substituted for the saving of lives, for the general distribution of welfare and opportunity. The many are to find compensation for their hardship in the happi- \ness of the few^fcJBut the Christian principle of atonement was the precise opposite of this: one suffered that all might be blessed. Christianity MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 141 looked towards a good that should number every one in the multitude and endure throughout all time. Now it has since appeared that this was no more than the truth; and that it might have been conceived and executed by the wise men, had they only been more wise. But they were wise only within the limits of their own conceit. Hence it took the form of an assault on the established enlightenment. The many, with their yearning for a universal happiness, with their deep concern for the greater good, and their jealous compassion for all souls, destroyed the narrow eminence of the few. Thus Christianity was a revolution, and not a constructive reform. The French Revolution was a protest not only against apathy, but against insolence as well. It was a demand of the nianyjiol_niej;ely to be happy, but to have what they called their " rights" re- spected; a protest against authority, not only Be- cause it was cruel, but because it was arbitrary, tyrannical. Hence it was aimed against priestcraft as well as against monarchy. It was based on the conviction that no one is so justly entitled to pass judgment on a man's affairs as a man himself. But it was a cry from the depths, the bitter resentment of a long-standing abuse. There- fore it took the form of an uprising against the established order; and while it opened men's eyes, if was not conducted in the spirit of enlighten- 142 THE MORAL ECONOMY ment. In spite of his inferences, Nietsche has not described the matter falsely: The slave . . . loves as he hates, without nuance, to the very depths, to the point of pain, . . . his many hidden sufferings make him revolt against the noble taste which seems to deny suffering. The scepticism with regard to suffering, fundamentally only an attitude of an aristocratic morality, was not the least of the causes, also, of the last great slave insurrection which began with the French Revolution. 4 Insurrection^ in other words, is the flat, down- right, and unqualified affirmation of interests to N which those in charge of affairsTave~ttenied ex- istence. It is a flash in the eyes of those who will not see; a blast in the ears of those who will not hear. Insurrection asserts only the interests that have been neglected; hence, though it brings new light, that light for lack of which the world went in darkness, it is careless and blind in its own way, and does not concern itself with re- storing the balance. But, as Nietsche prefers not to comprehend, insurrection demonstrates beyond question the bankruptcy of aristocratic morality; discredits it as effectually, and in the same way, as new evidence discredits old theories. These, then, are the two complementary meth- ods through which rationality gets itself "pro- gressively established I/through the imagination and foresight of constructive minds, ancftnrough the protest or uprising oFneglected interests. MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 143 I must mention briefly, before leaving this gen- eral topic, an- accessory condition on which this internal principle of progress depends for its ef- I fectual working. It is necessary that the life of I society should be unbroken; that its achieve- ments should be preserved and accumulated from \ generation to generation. This is provided for in the permanence of records, monuments, and institutions; but these are of less consequence ^ than the continuity of tradition. Generations of men do not come into being and pass away like regiments in marching order. There is no present generation; unless one arbitrarily selects those of a certain age to represent the spirit of the day. He who is born now, enters into the midst of a social life in which the present is blended with the past through the interpenetration of in- dividual lives of every stage of maturity. The threads are innumerably many, and their length is but threescore years and ten; but there is no place at which more than a few end, so that they are woven into one continuous and seamless fabric. It does not exceed the facts, then, to say that the life of society is one life, which may gather headway, increase in wealth, and profit by experience. Through this continuity society may learn, as the individual organism does, by the method of trial and error. Costly blunders need not be repeated, and the waste involved 144 THE MORAL ECONOMY in untried experiments may steadily be reduced. \ Furthermore, the advance is by geometrical, and *not merely by arithmetical progression. Every discovery and achievement is multiplied in fruit- fulness through being added to the capital stock and reinvested in fresh enterprises. " Human progress, thus determined by the move- ment of life towards its more rational, that is, more provident, organization, is attended in all its stages with a very significant difference of em- phasis. ' I refeTloTrie"~old conflict between con- servatism and radicalism. If this were merely a difference of temperamental bias, it would not need to detain us. But it is really an opposition between exaggerated truths, in which each is boldly and impressively defined. ^ The truth of conservatism lies/first, in its love of the existing orde f rT""Every established form of Social fife hat had a certain wholeness and strength and perfection of its own. This is as true of savagery as it is of any type of civilization. Interests are in equjlibnum, and are guaranteed security within certain limits that are generally understood. In other words, at least a measure of fulfilment may be counted on. The conservative is right in valuing this as a prodigious achieve- ment. He knows that disorder is ruin, not to MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 145 any class, but to all; the paralysis, if not the ab- solute destruction, of all fruitful activities. /))And secondly, conservatism proclaims the truth that since order conditions all activity, it is impossible to promote human welfare except by using~vr&er. The enemy of order threatens to destroy the instruments of power, and so to make himself weak and helpless with the rest. The conservative understands the real delicacy of these instruments, and the difficulty of remod- elling them while still forced to use them. For nothing puts so great a^tiaia on society as prog- ' ress. It tends to destroy its rigidity, to dull its edge, and fb~5p6ir!heTne~adjustment without which so complex an organization cannot func- tion. There could be no human life whatsoever, and still less a progressive life, were not the great mass of men content to remain steadily in their places, and so form parts of a ^table structure. An organization cannot actually work until it is in equilibrium. Now while the conservative fears to "swap horses while crossing the stream, " the .radical reminds him that if he does not do so he will never gain the farther shore. The conservative is sat- isfied to sit firmly in the saddle, but the radical thinks only of the long distance yet to go. There is a common misconception as to who is the real radical, the real menace to this existing orcfer. i 4 6 THE MORAL ECONOMY He is notjhe sceptic, but the manwith a purpose; I the man who believes in the possibility ofTretterJ things, and so has a motive impelling him to k abolish and reconstruct the present things. The sceptic, who holds all order to be conventional and arbitrary, is as well satisfied with one system as anotKer. His natural course is a cynical ac- quiescence in the inveterate folly of mankind. Or, finding order convenient, and fearing that its true groundlessness will be exposed if it be made a matter for discussion, he advocates blind obedience to the authority of the day. Hence the disillusioned, especially if they occupy posi- tions of power in church or state or trade, may be counted on as the leaders of conservative policy. The typicalzadicaj, on the other hand, is Socrates, who censured the men of his time because they were satisfied with something short of the best; and who was condemned because he offered men a good reason for reorganizing life. <^yThe radical, like the conservative, is right. He is right, in the first place, because he points out that the stability of the established order is not proof of its finality. It may be, indeed al- ways will be, largely due to habit. Society for- feits a greater good through mere inertia, through the tendency of any organization of interests which runs smoothly and brings a steady return, to perpetuate itself. The radical is the .critic of MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 147 custom, condemning it for timidly clinging to the present good, and abandoning the original in- tent of life to attain to the maximum. The radical isjright, secondly, because he pip- tests thatjso long as there is the least waste of Iife 4 the least wanton suppression or destruction of interests, the work of civilization is no| done. He represents those interests which under any system are most heavily taxed, and presses for their relief. Conservatism and radicalism, then, are the two half-truths into which the principle of progress is divided by the propensity of every human ac- tivity to override the mark, and by the confusion of mind that cannot fail to attend so venturesome and bewildering an undertaking as civilization. I have said that it is possible to measure prog- ress because of the persistence throughout the whole course of human history of certain identical interests_and ^purposes. When such an interest or purpose is sufficiently broad in its scope, and gets itself permanently embodied, it is called an institution. TEus government embodies the need of the general regulation of interests within tEe social community. Education is due to the individual's prolonged period of helplessness and dependence, and the n^e^d of assimilating him to the order of his time. Science is man's 148 THE MORAL ECONOMY knowledge of the ways of nature in detail, when this is recorded, organized, and preserved as a permanent utility answering to the permanent need oT~adaptation. And religion expresses in outer form the human need of reckoning with the final day of judgment, of establishing right re- lations with the powers that underly and overrule the proximate sphere of life. There is no limited number of institutions, but these are notable examples. Government, education, science, and religion are fixed moral necessities. They arise out of those conditions of life which are gen- eral and constant. Hence each has a history coextensive with the history of society itself. And since the function of each remains identical throughout, the adequacy with which at any given time it fulfils that function may be taken as a measure of civilization. Government being tne most P romment f institutions," "and its im- provement being the deepest concern of society, * i Jf-'i shall select it for special consideration. 5 1 have already referred to thHPktonic account of government, given in the Republic. It furnishes the starting-point of all political phil- osophy. In the First and Second Books, Plato examines two contrary sceptical criticisms of government, with a most illuminating result. In the First Book the scepfic urges the view that government represents the interest of the strong; MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 149 primarily of the ruler himself, enabling him to aggrandize himself at the expense of the weak. But in the Second Book the sceptic is made to suggest that government represents rather the interest of the weak, since it affords him a pro- tection which he is not strong enough to afford himself. Now the moral of this paradox lies in the fact that government represents the inter- 1 est neither of the strong nor ^TtKe weak, but of I the community as a whole. This moraTis virTu- ally pointed in the reply wKich Plato makes to the first of these two sceptical positions. The ruler gains his power and prestige not from the exploitation of the interests of his subjects, but from his protection of them. His activity touches all the interests of the community, and is tolerated only in so far as it conciliates them. In other words, his strength is drawn wholly from the constituency which he serves. The many individual interests, on the other hand, owe their security to that concentration and organization which centres in the ruler. They only participate in a power which the ruler may exercise and en- joy as a unit. But unless that power be engaged in their service it ceases to exist. It is not a per- sonal power, but a permanent function, through which the many interests of society unite, and^so share severally the security, glory, and resource- fulness of the whole body. 150 THE MORAL ECONOMY and an opportunity. Suppose men to be~~in con- tact tEroughpropinquity or common descent. Divided among themselves they are prey to natural forces, wild beasts, or human enemies. But acting as a unit they are sufficiently strong to protect themselves. He who wields them as a unit to this end is for the time-being the ruler; and to submit to his leadership is simply to sub- mit to the necessity of protection. Or, divided among themselves, they remain in a condition of poverty and fear; while united they can wage an aggressive campaign against nature, and against those who threaten them or possess what they lack. Again, he who settles their internal differ- ences, accomplishes their^orga^ization, and makes it effective, is their ru^er; and he owes his au- thority to the opportunity of conquest which his leadership affords. f The fact that government is thus of natural origin^ the inevitable soiution^oi an inevitable problem, has been obscured through confusing ifs~~general necessity with the" accidental circum- I stances connected with the selection of rulers. The first ruler may have been appointed by God; or, as is more likely, he may have owed his choice to his own brutal self-assertion. But this has no more to do with the origin of the function of gov- ernment, than the present methods of ambitious MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 151 politicians have to do with the constitutional office of a republican presidency. Government meets a moral need; and no man has ever ruled over men who has not met that need, however cruel and greedy he may have been in his private motives. From the very beginning, then, government exists by virtue jof^ the good that it does. But there have~BeeiTenormous differences in the price that men hayp- pajH fry- "that gnnr^j_ ariT this constitutes its variable and progressive factor. Tyranny is, in the long run, the most unstable form of government, because it grossly overesti- mates the amount that men will pay for the benefit of order. In the Antigone of Sophocles, Creon thus justifies his rule: Than lawlessness there is no greater ill. It ruins states, overturns homes, and joining with the spear-thrust breaks the ranks in rout. But in the steady lines what saves most lives is discipline. Therefore we must defend the public order. But when his son Haemon protests against his tyranny, Creon states his understanding of the bargain: CREON Govern this land for others than myself? H/EMON No city is the property of one alone. CREON Is not the city reckoned his who rules ? H^MON Excellent ruling you alone, the land deserted!" 152 THE MORAL ECONOMY In other words, Creon does not understand that if he exacts everything he will possess nothing. There will come a point when the cost to the com- munity exceeds the gain; and when that point is reached government must either make more lib- er aHerms or forfeit its power. V The rjrinciple of rationality in government is ^ [parsimony] When its benefit involves a tasteful sacrifice of interests and may be purchased more thriftily, the pressure of interest inevitably in the long run brings about the change. The in- terests upon which the burden weighs most lieavily const|tute_the unstable factor, and since, in order that equilibrium may be restored, these must be relieved, there is necessarily a gradual liberalization of governmental institutions. In the~light of these general considerations I wish briefly to examine three historical types of gov- ernment, and then to present a summary of pres- ent tendencies. y"/ There is an interesting estimate of the benefits and cost of the ancient military monarchy in the history of Israel, as recorded by the writer of the Book of Samuel. The elders have demanded that Samuel make them a king, to judge them, "like all the nations." But he first warns them of the price that they will have to pay: And he said, This will be the manner of the king that shall reign over you: he will take your sons, and MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 153 appoint them unto him, for his chariots, and to be his horsemen; and they shall run before his chariots: and he will appoint them unto him for captains of thousands, and captains of fifties; and he will set some to plow his ground, and to reap his harvest, and to make his instruments of war, and the instruments of his chariots. . . . And he will take your fields, and your vineyards, and your oliveyards, even the best of them, and give them to his servants. . . . And he will take your men servants, and your maid- servants, and your goodliest young men, and your asses, and put them to his work. He will take the tenth of your flocks: and ye shall be his servants. And ye shall cry out in that day because of your king that ye shall have chosen you. But the men of Israel were willing to pay even this price, saying: Nay; but we will have a king over us; that we also may be like all the nations; and that our king may judge us, and go out before us, and fight our battles.' The benefits ofjnonarchy, in which Israel sought to emulate her neighbors, wej;e judgment and military prowess. Even where the evils of tyranny were most aggravated these Benefits actually accrued and constituted a rational ground of &u- thority. The king was, at least in a measure, worthy of his hire. But the cost was extravagant; the king exacted a disproportionate share of the plunder, and reduced his subjects to a condition of personal bondage. In the great monarchies, such as Assyria, Egypt, Persia, and the Roman 154 THE MORAL ECONOMY Empire in its later period, the benefits of his rule were greatly attenuated before they reached to the depths and extremities of his kingdom, judg- ment being reduced to the caprice of an irrespon- sible officer, and military prowess to a faint reflection of national glory. Now the weakness of such a polity lay in its donbtful value to the governed, these failing to participate fairly in its achievements, and so lacking incentive to sup- ?port it. There was no clear and convincing identification of individual interest and national purpose. The strength of Greek and Roman oligarchies, on the otheFnand, lay in precisely this morale, or solidarity of interest. Their small size and racial homogeneity brought the ruler into direct rela- tions with a constituency which was clearly con- scious of its purpose and held him closely to it. So even where the kingship lingered on as a form, this polity was virtually a compact self-governing community. The benefits of government, to which every other interest was harshly subordi- nated, were still judgment and military prowess. But these benefits were effectually guaranteed; and the sacrifices which they required became a code of honor, both to be praised and gloried in as parts of happiness. Those who think that the Spartans felt their discipline to be essentially a hardship should read the song of Tyrtaeus, MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 155 which they recited in their tents on the eve of battle: With spirit let us fight for this land, and for our children die, being no longer chary of our lives. Fight, then, young men, standing fast one by an- other, nor be beginners of cowardly flight or fear. But rouse a great and valiant spirit in your breasts, and love not life when ye contend with men. And the elders, whose limbs are no longer active, the old desert not or forsake. For surely this were shameful, that fallen amid the foremost champions, hi front of the youths, an older man should lie low, having his head now white and his beard hoary, breathing out a valiant spirit in the dust. . . . Yet all this befits the young while he enjoys the brilliant bloom of youth. To mortal men and women he is lovely to look upon, whilst he lives; and noble when he has fallen in the foremost ranks. 8 But the cost is none the less heavy because it is not felt.? In the first place, llieit? wao4he cost untold Lo those whom the oligarchy held in suh- jection, a hundred thousand Messenians and twice as many Helots. Their .unequal participa- tion in the benefits of government, necessary though it may have been, lent instability to the whole polity. It was the menace of their resent- ment that forced upon their rulers a policy of perpetual vigilance and military discipline. ^And in the second place, there was the cost to the Spar- tan himself of attaining to a physical efficiency equal to that of ten Helots. 156 THE MORAL ECONOMY In the rival polity of Athens, the first of these abuses is only in a measure correctedfThe liberal extensiomrf the privileges of citizenship is the achievement of a later age. But the democracy of Athens did demonstrate the internal wastefulness of a polity dominated by purely military aims. The classic representation of this protest against sacrificing individual taste and capacity, together with all growth and abundance in the arts of peace, to the harsh rigors and passive obedience of a sol- dier's life, is to be found in Thucydides. In the funeral oration attributed to Pericles there is this account of Jthe superiorjty_of Athenian institutions: It is true that we are called a democracy, for the administration is in the hands of the many and not of the few. But while the law secures equal justice to all alike in their private disputes, the claim of ex- cellence is also recognized; and when a citizen is in any way distinguished, he is preferred to the public service. . . . And we have not forgotten to provide for our weary spirits many relaxations from toil; we have regular games and sacrifices throughout the year; at home the style of our living is refined; and the de- light which we daily feel in all these things helps to banish melancholy. . . . And in the matter of edu- cation, whereas they [the Spartans] from early youth are always undergoing laborious exercises which are to make them brave, we live at ease, and yet are equally ready to face the perils which they face. ... If then we prefer to meet danger with a light heart but with- out laborious training, and with a courage which is gained by habit and not enforced by law, are we not greatly the gainers? Since we do not anticipate the iis-1 m-l the/ MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 157 pain, although, when the hour comes, we can be as brave as those who never allow themselves to rest; and thus too our city is equally admirable in peace and in war. For we are lovers of the beautiful, yet simple in our tastes, and we cultivate the mind without loss of manliness. 9 The political disorders of later Athenian his- tory illustrate the difficulty of reconciling dividualism with order and stability. But at same time they prove that tne task is a necessary one, and that until it has been successfully per- formed, government can enjoy at best only a false security. For no interests can safely be neglected, least of all thos^~wKicrFaTise-froni the natural activities of men and lie in the direction of the normal growth of human capacities. Now these ancient polities illustrate the inevi- table pressure in the direction of liberal govern- merit, <^f he original and always the^fundamental I values 01 government are order and powerty'But I these must be obtained with the minimum of per- sonal exploitatior^nJhe_^arLjQ_the ruler ;"*the function of government must be clearly under- stood andvigilantly guarded by a body of citizens who identify Their interests with it^bjAnd secondly, order and power must beTmade compatible witA individual initiative, with playfulness and leisure, and'*witH the freeTdevelopment of all worthy in- terests. This pressure has been steadily operative in the evolution of modern political institutions. 158 THE MORAL ECONOMY r \ te? But there has also been another force at work of equally far-reaching importascel This force is the modern idea of democracy, in which justice is modiile (Tby goodly ill. With the ancients justice [meant "that every man should practise one thing mly, that being the thing to which his nature was most perfectly adapted." 10 Equality upon the highest plane of human capacity was limited even in theory to a privileged class. But since the advent of Christianity it has never been possible for Euro- pean society to acquiesce with good conscience in a limited distribution of the benefits of civiliza- tion. For the new enlightenment teaches that when men's potentialities are considered, rather than their present condition, there are no classes. As a consequence men demand representation not for what they are, but for what they may become if grvefT their just opportunity. The body of citizens whose good is the final end of government virtually includes, then, all men without exception. It is no longer possible simply to dismiss large groups of human beings from consideration on grounds of what is held to be their unfitness. For they now demand that they be made fit. Burke expresses this enlightenment when he says, in speaking of the lower strata of society: As the blindness of mankind has caused their slavery, in return their state of slavery is made a pretence of keeping them in a state of blindness; for MORAL TEST OF PROGRESS 159 the politician will tell you gravely, that their life of servitude disqualifies the greater part of the race of man for a search of truth, and supplies them with no other than mean and insufficient ideas. This is but too true; and this is one of the reasons for which I blame ^i^h institutions. 11 And so does every man now demand of the com- munity as ajwhole that tie^ shall be permitted to share equaUyJri.its benefits, and also, in order that his claims may be represented, that he shall have a voice in its councils. Do not misunder- stand me. I do not mean i;hat all men, therefore, / must here and now be held to be equal; but only/ that they must be held to be capable of being as good as the best until they have demonstrated^ the contrary by forfeiting their opportunity. Nor do I mean that all men must therefore be given the ballot. We are discussing a question not of instrument, but oLprinciple. I do mean that there is jin idea thauine besTo! life is for all; and that if there are many that are incapable of entering into it, then they must be helped to be capable. And I mean, furthermore, that this idea works irre- sistibly. It commands the support of the whole / army ol-fflterests. It will never be abandoned because it makes for the increase of life on the whole; and hence no social order will from hence- forth be stable that is not based upon it. / This idea that all men alike shall be the bene- ficiaries of governmentT^when taken together 160 THE MORAL ECONOMY with the ancient ideas that government shall be directly ^es^njiWe_lo_its_henenciaries, and shall make as lIBefaTan allowance as possible for their individual claims and opinions, constitutes the general principle upon which the progressive modern state is founded. Let me brieHy re- capitulate certain characteristics of the modern state " which indicate its recognition of this principle, and hence its advance on the whole over earlier types. 1. In the first place, the modern state is es- l^jf^ sentially a territorial rather than a racial or pro- fe*H TEereis an ecstasy of mind in the discernment of these ideas, and a blend of emo- tion that follows in their train, both of which are conditioned by insight; that is, by a process that is neither sensuous, perceptual, nor emotional merely, but, in an additional sense, intellectual. The interest in apprehension may thus be ex- / hibited and satisfied in divers ways, differing according to the special processes of conscious- ness which they call into playT And while it may be crude or cultivated, it is safe to say that in all of its modes it is present to some degree in every individual human life. The simple-minded person who hisses the villain of the melodrama, and he who takes pleasure in the inevitableness of the Greek tragedy, are exhibiting the same interest in the emotions evoked by the spectacle of life. There is only a difference of training! and sophistication betweenThe man who enjoys a cheap chromo for the color or the "likeness," and one who appreciates Velasquez's treatment of light or the characterization of Franz Hals. In the enjoyment of the highest forms of art j these various modes of apprehension will be united, / each, so contributing tn thr rnTmnrcWtrrTTf the 190 THE MORAL ECONOMY rest that it is impossible sharply to divide them. Nor do I venture any opinion as to which of these modes, if any, is fundamental in the different arts or in fine art as a whole. It is sufficient for our purposes to know that art does exercise and develop human nature in all of these ways. We are now in a position to define a pro- gramme of criticism. Art thrives because~iTfui- filsJTcomplex and inultiform interest. It is sup- ported by an interest which it supplies with its proper objects. Hence it fallsjvithin the circle of life where questions of prudence, justice, and good-will are paramount. But, because moral nsiderations must thus in the nature of the case taj^eprecedence over purely aesthetic con- siderations, this proves nothing whatsoever con- cerning the way in which this precedence should be established. It was Plato's belief that so- ciety should employ a rigorous censorship, and banish the offending poet: We will fall down and worship him as a sweet and holy and wonderful being; but we must also inform him that there is no place for such as he is in our State the law will not allow them. And so when we have anointed him with myrrh, and set a garland of wool upon his head, we shall send him away to another city. 8 But there is another way of protecting society from whatever may be the evil effects oj^art, and that is to educate the individual and the com- CRITICISM OF FINE ART 191 munity in their use of art. This would mean, in place of a regulation of the supply, _a regulation of the demand. It would mean that the aesthetic interest itself, like every other interest within the moral economy, should be so controlled as to make it as conducive as possible to health and abun^ dance of life] The" exercise or cultivation of the~ interest in art would then, like the love of nature or of social intercourse, be unlimited so far as its objects were concerned, but limited through its relation to other interests within the individual or community purpose. But with this difference concerning the proper remedy, the present in- quiry will coincide in its intent and presupposi- tions with that model of all moral criticisms, the Republic of Plato. What are the possibilities for life of this aesthetic interest or love of art? How is it liable to abuse or excess? What is its bearing on other interests, and how far does it tend to make life gracious and happy, without destroying its balance or compromising its truth ? These are the questions on which I hope that I may be able to throw some light by calling at- tention to the following characteristics possessed by the aesthetic interest ? self -sufficiency, ^pervasive- ness, vicaripusness,' stimulation of actionffixation of ideas , and liberality. 9 i 9 2 THE MORAL ECONOMY III It has long been pointed out that the aesthetic interest, unlike the bodily appetites, is self- sufficient, in that it is capable of being^evenly sus- tained. It depends on no antecedent craving, and has no definite periodic limit of satiety. It engages the Capacities that are, on the whole, the most docile and the least liable to progressive fatigue, while through its own internal variety it is guarded against monotony. Consequently the aesthetic interest is peculiarly capable of being continued and developed through a life- timeTproviding a constant ^nd increasing source of satisfaction. Furthermore, the aesthetic interest is resource- ful, easily supplying itself with the objects which it uses. It follows that it contributes to inde- pendence, being like the " speculative activity " of Aristotle, 10 in giving the individual a means of happiness in himself without the aid of his fel- lows or the favor of fortune. Since the aesthetic interest is in these ways self-sufficient, its con- tinuous return of good being guaranteed, it is one of the safest of investments. But every_special interest is a source of danger n direct proportion to its isolation. Its very self-sufficiency may serve to promote a narrow concentration, a blindness to ulterior interests CRITICISM OF FINE ART 193 and wider possibilities. This undue dwelling on the given material of life may, as we have seen in an earlier chapter, attach to any interest; but the aesthetic interest is peculiarly liable to it. This is due to the fact that, in so far as an object appeals to the aesthetic interest, it tends not to de- velop, but to retain some fixed aspect in which the apprehension of it is agreeable. The vari- ous practical interests ramify indefinitely through the dynamic relations of objects, and through the handling of objects common to a variety of inter- ests. Once engaged in what is called "active life" one tends to be drawn into the main cur- rent of enterprise and made aware of the larger issues. And the theoretical interest also tends to lead beyond itself; for it prompts the mind to examine the whole nature of objects, and to ex- plore their context without limit in the hope of completer truth. But the aesthetic interest read- ily acquires equilibrium, and feels no inducement to leave off an activity which, though its limits may be narrow, is free and continuous within them. Plato accused art of being essentially imitative, and so of confirming the vulgar respect for the surface aspect of things. 11 It is truer, I think, to say that the aesthetic interest is quiescent, tend- ing to perpetuate experience in any form that is found pleasant, and without respect either to practical exigencies or to the order of truth. 194 THE MORAL ECONOMY - Hence this interest on account of its very self- i sufficiency offers a passive resistance to the formal principles of moral^ organization to prudence, | purpose/;justice, and' good-will. IV The aesthetic interest is the good genius of the powers of apprehension, making them fruitful in their own kind. Now the powers of apprehen- sion are engaged during all the waking hours, and if they can be taught to mediate a good of their own, that good will pervade the whole of life. It is through the cultivation of the aesthetic interest that there is most hope of redeeming the waste places, of giving to intervals and acci- dental juxtapositions some graciousness and profit. With all the world to see and contem- plate, anoTwith the eye affd mind wherewith to contemplate them, there is a limitless abundance of good things always and everywhere available. Let me quote Arthur Benson's account of this discovery: The world was full of surprises; trees drooped their leaves over screening walls, houses had backs as well as fronts; music was heard from shuttered windows, lights burned in upper rooms. There were a thousand pretty secrets in the ways of people to each other. Then, too, there were ideas, as thick as sparrows in an ivied wall. One had but to clap one's hands and cry out, and there was a fluttering CRITICISM OF FINE ART 195 of innumerable wings; life was as full of bubbles, forming, rising into amber foam, as a glass of spark- ling wine. 12 To this delight which the casual environment affords a sensitive observer, art may add through a decorous furnishing of city and house. Or the instruments of other interests may be made to give pleasure of themselves, so that there may be no long periods of deferred reward. Thus to the hire of manual labor may be added the immediate compensation which comes from a love of the tools, or from the satisfaction taken in the aspect of work done; to physical exercise may be added the love of nature, to scholarship the love of scientific form, and to social inter- course the love of personal beauty or of conver- sation. In these ways, and in countless ways beside, the aesthetic interest may multiply the richness of life. Society is, on the whole, protected against the danger, of overemphasis on the aesthetic interest, through the habituaTs^feefdination of it in public opinion to standards of efficiency. Men com- monly believe, and are justified in so believing, that a life delivered wholly to the aesthetic inter- est is frivolous; amusing itself with "bubbles" and "amber foam," while supported by a com- munity in whose graver and more urgent con- cerns it takes no part. Probably no one has 196 THE MORAL ECONOMY done more than Pater to persuade men of the present generation that it is worth while to "catch at any exquisite passion, ... or any stirring of the senses" ; and yet he is not a prophet in our day. Is it possibly because in that same famous conclusion to the Renaissance he said, "Not the fruit of experience, but experience itself,_js__the_end," 13 and thus exposed himself to misunderstanding, if not to refutation, at the hands of any one of average moral enlightenment ? The moral lesson is one that none have escaped, and that only a few are permitted to forget. This lesson has taught with unvarying reiteration that acts are to be judged by their consequences; that all purposes are constructive, and so far as wise fitted into the building of civilization; that experience itself, in Pater's sense, is possible only as a fruit of experience. A life in which the aesthetic interest unduly dominates, in which action is transmuted into pulses of sensation, and the means of efficiency into the ends of con- templation, is an idle life, protected from the consequences of its own impotency only by the constructive labor of others. He who from pro- longed gazing at the spoon forgets to carry it to his mouth, must die of hunger and cease from gazing altogether, or be fed by his friends. The instruments of achievement may be adorned, and made delightful in the using, but they must not CRITICISM OF FINE ART 197 on that account be mistaken for the achievement; leisure may be made a worthy pastime through the cultivation of the sensibilities, but it must notjhe^substituted for vocation, or allowed to in- fecfarsenous r V It has always been recognized that there is a peculiar massiveness or depth in aesthetic satis- faction, as though it somehow carried with it the satisfaction of all interests. And this is not due merely to the fact that other interests tend to fall away or remit their claims; it is due besides to the fact that other interests may in a sense actually be fulfilled in the aesthetic interest. In j other words, this interest serves a vicarious func- tion, transmuting^other interests into its own form, and then affording them a fulfilment which they are incapable of attaining when exercised in their own right. This occurs when other interests, such as love or personal ambition, are imagined or represented, and thus made objects of agreeable apprehension. There is in this a compensation for failure, without which life would be stripped of one of its main bar- riers against despair. Those whom circumstance has provided no opportunity for the fulfilment of interests so ingenerate as maternal love or heroic action, may, in a way, make themselves whole 198 THE MORAL ECONOMY through the contemplation of these things; for the contemplation of them engages the same in- stincts, arouses the same emotions, but without requiring the existence of their objects. The prolongation of arduous and uncertain effort is compensated through the imaginative anticipa- tion of success, or through the apprehension of some symbol of perfect fruition. It is through this happy illumination of struggle with a vision of fulfilment, that mankind is reconciled to such tasks as civilization and spiritual wholeness; tasks in which great efforts produce small re- sults, and of which the end is not seen. Now it remains true, of course, that_such vi- carious fulfilment is not real fulfilment^ and to suppose it to be, is one of the most serious errors for which the aesthetic interest is responsible. The man who, with clenched hands and quickened pulse, is watching some image of himself as it triumphs over obstacles and arrives at the sum- mit of his ambition, may and doubtless does feel like Alexander, but he nevertheless has not con- quered the world; and if he thinks he has, he will probably never conquer any of it. It must be remembered that the vicarious aesthetic ful- filment of interests is the easiest fulfilment of them; and that it may, therefore, become a form of self-indulgence and a source of false com- placency. A sanguine imagination is one of the CRITICISM OF FINE ART 199 chief causes of worldly failure; an exaggerated interest in representations of virtue is a com- mon cause of irresponsibility and of hypocrisy. William James, in a passage that is frequently quoted, calls attention also tp_jhe danger of ac- quiring a chronic emotionality. The weeping of a Russian lady over the fictitious personages in the play, while her coachman is freezing to death on his seat outside, is the sort of thing that everywhere happens on a less glaring scale. Even the habit of excessive indulgence in music, for those who are neither performers themselves nor musically gifted enough to take it in a purely intellectual way, has probably a relaxing effect upon the character. One becomes filled with emotions which habitually pass without prompting to any deed, and so the in- ertly sentimental condition is kept up. The remedy would be, never to suffer one's self to have an emotion at a concert, without expressing it afterwards in some active way. Let the expression be the least thing in the world speaking genially to one's aunt, or giving up one's seat in a horse-car, if nothing more heroic offers but let it not fail to take place. 14 But not only is it possible through the exag- . geration of the aesthetic interest to substitute ap- 1 parent achievement for real achleyiementT it is I possible to extract solace from the contemplation of failure itself. Is there any one who has not met the man who is actually made buoyant by his consistent misfortune? For it is flattering that an evil fate should single one out from the crowd for conspicuous attention, that all the 200 THE MORAL ECONOMY tragedy of existence should centre upon one's devoted head. And a certain interest attaches even to unredeemed misery and abject futility on their own account, if only they can be viewed from the right angle, and with a cultivated sense for such things. Now thus to poetize the tragedy of one's own life is fatuous; it is like enjoying one's dizziness on the brink of a precipice, or the pangs of sickness without seeking a remedy. But to poetize the tragedy of others, to fiddle while Rome is burning, is brutal. Neverthe- less, though it is not commonly possible to do things on Nero's scale, precisely the same atti- tude is the commonest thing in the world, and is fostered by the whole aesthetic bias of the race. The meanness of savage life, the squalid poverty of the slums, suffice in their picturesqueness to make a holiday for those who are more occupied with images than with deeds. And there is actually a philosophy of life in which all things are held to be good because they afford a tragic, sublime, and, therefore, pleasing spectacle. This is the very extreme of moral infidelity, the aban- donment of the will lo make good for the insidi- ous and relaxing interest in making things seem good as they are. CRITICISM OF FINE ART 201 VI That a beautiful object commonly stimulates a motor response is beyond question. Even when it does not appeal to any definite emotion it is generally stimulating, through its affording to the natural powers at some point an unusual har- mony with their environment. And when there is a definite emotional appeal, there is a tendency to act. For, as we have seen, originally the funda- mental emotions were all co-ordinated reactions to the environment, enlisting the whole organism to cope with some practical emergency." That the emotions shoukl become mere emotions is due to the modification of instinct by habit. What- ever, then, arouses the emotions does in some degree stir to action. So that one of the most im- portant moral uses of art is its alliance with other interests in order to intensify their appeal, in order to make them more instantly moving. Art is a means of enlivening dormant impulses; as music is a means of Rekindling the love of country or the love of God, so that men may be brought to take up arms with enthusiasm or endure reverses without complaint. But this motor excitement which art stimu- lates may be morally indeterminate; that is, it may be capable of being discharged in any way that accident or bias may select. In other words, 202 THE MORAL ECONOMY art may communicate power without controlling its use, thus merely increasing the disorder and instability of life. Or it may serve to exaggerate the appeal of the present interest, until it be- comes ungovernable and obscures ulterior in- terests. This tendency to promote_jjis5o]vitnipss is the most serious charge which Plato brings against the arts. After referring to the unseemly hilarity to which men are incited by the comic stage, he adds: And the same may be said of lust and anger and all the other affections, of desire and pain and pleas- ure which are held to be inseparable from every action in all of them poetry feeds and waters the passions instead of drying them up; she lets them rule instead of ruling them as they ought to be ruled, with a view to the happiness and virtue of mankind. 16 In an earlier passage Plato discusses types of music in relation to action, the Lydian which is sorrowful, and the Ionian which is indolent; showing that selection must be made if "men are not to be at the mercy of random influences. It is not necessary, as Plato would have it, to banish Lydian and Ionian harmonies from society; but within one's personal economy, within the re- public of one's own soul, one must prefer with Plato those stirrings of the emotions which sup- port and re-enforce one's moral purposes Of the harmonies I know nothing, but I want to have one warlike, which will sound the word or note CRITICISM OF FINE ART 203 which a brave man utters in the hour of danger and stern resolve, or when his cause is failing, and he is going to wounds or death or is overtaken by some other evil, and at every such crisis meets fortune with calmness and endurance; and another to be used by him in times of peace and freedom of action, when there is no pressure of necessity, and he is seeking to persuade God by prayer, or man by instruction and * advice. . . . These two harmonies I ask you to leave : the strait) of r>frp<;<;ity.ar>H the strain of -freedom^ the strain of the unfortunate and the strain of the fortunate, the strain of courage and the strain of temperance; these, I say, leave. 19 VII Where art is not employed directly to incite action, it may still be indirectly conducive to faction through fixmg~ ideas and inclining the sentiments towards them. This is probably its most important moral function. The ideas wffich are of the greatest significance for conduct are ideas which receive no adequate embodiment in the objects of nature. Every broad purpose and developed ideal requires the exercise of the con- structive imagination. But the immediate images of the imagination are fluctuating and transient, and need to be supported through being em- bodied in some enduring medium. Thus monu- ments^ serve as emblems of nationality; or, as in the thirteenth century, ~all~t5e arts may unite to represent and suggest the objects of religious 204 THE MORAL ECONOMY faith. Poetry and song have always served as means of incarnating the more delicate shadings of a racial ideal; and every man would be a poet if he could, and trace the outline of that hope which stirs him and which is not the hope of any other man. But it must be made clear that art does more than^make ideas definite aud~~permanent. It inclines the_sent!inents towards them. The great power of art lies in its^FunctioH of making ideas alluring. Now whatever is loved or admired is, inllie long run, sought out, imitated, and served. Understanding this, the ancient Athenians sought to educate the passions, and employed music to that end. This is Aristotle's justification of such a course: Since then music is a pleasure, and virtue consists in rejoicing and loving and hating aright, there is clearly nothing which we are so much concerned to acquire and to cultivate as the power of forming right judgments, and of taking delight in good dispositions and noble actions. Rhythm and melody supply imi- tations of anger and gentleness, and also of courage and temperance and of virtues and vices in general, which hardly fall short of the actual affections, as we know from our own experience, for in listening to such strains our souls undergo a change. The habit of feel- ing pleasure or pain at merg_ representations is not far removed from the same feeling about realities. 17 The simple and incontestable truth of these statements is a standing condemnation of the CRITICISM OF FINE ART 205 usual environment of youth. Virtue consists, as much as it ever did, "in rejoicing and loving and hating aright"; but the guidance of these senti- ments to their prqperpb jects is left almost wholly to chance. It is by making the p;nod also beautiful, by illuminating the modes of virtue with jewels, and endearing them to the imagination, that the mo^al reason may be re-enforced from early days by high spirits. It should be a task of education, using this means either in the home or the school or the city at large, to inculcate a right habit of admiration. If art is to serve a moral end in fixing and em- bellishing ideas^ it must be true. WEat I mean ^ by this most important qualification I must now endeavor to make plain. Art, in so far as it is a means of representation, deals either with physical nature, as in landscape and figure paint- ing, or with types and incidents of human life, as in dramatic painting and in the greater part of poetry. In either case it may, like thought, either reflect or distort the structure of reality. Now the real structure of human life is moral; consisting only in a variety of instances of the one law that the wages of sin is death. To repre- sent life otherwise is to falsify it, precisely as to represent bodies without solidity and gravity is to falsify physical nature. But in representing physical nature art does not, as science does, 206 THE MORAL ECONOMY formulate merely its geometrical or dynamical skeleton; to do scTwould be contrary to the intent of art to represent things in their perceptual con- creteness. Similarly art does not represent ab- stract virtues. Nevertheless, if it is not to depart from the truth art must, at the same time that it conveys the color and vividness of life, also con- form to its proper laws, and demonstrate the con- sequences of action as they are. And the same standard of clearness and fidelity, which requires that great art shall reveal nature as it is, not to the superficial or imitative observer but to the thoughtful and penetrating mind, requires also that it shall throw into relief the profounder and more universal forces of life* Great art, therefore, is of necessity enlightening. But it is possible that untruth should parade in the dress and under the auspices of art, and so work to the confusion of the moral consciousness. If art were only realistic in the full sense, an un- equivocal representation of the laws of life, it would invariably justify and support the moral will; it would be idealistic. It is the art of des- ultory and irresponsible fancy that is a source of danger. There is a species of romantic art that is guarded by its very excess of fantasy; it being impossible to mistake it for a representation of life. But where romantic art is not thus clear in its motive, it becomes what is called "sensational" CRITICISM OF FINE ART 207 art, in which the wages of sin are not paid; in which imprudence, infidelity, and a mean ambition are made to yield success, freedom, and glorious achievement. The realities are violated, with the consequence that resolve is weakened and the intelligence bewildered. Since art may be true or untrue, it may also be universal or particular, profound or super- * ficial, in itsjipprehension ot reality. This differ- ence has operated to define a scale of importance in art, so far as the interest of society is concerned. There is at least a measure of truth in Taine's graduated scale by which he estimates the great- ness of art according as it represents the fashion of the day, the type of the generation, the type of the age, the type of the race, or man him- self in his immutable nature. 18 That art will be the most effective instrument of moral en- lightenment which reflects the experience of man- kind in the basal and constant virtues, giving quality and distinction to truths which might otherwise suffer from their very homeliness and familiarity. There is a kindred consideration to which Tolstdy, undiscerning as he is in most of his criticism of art, has very justly called atten- tion. In the broad sense, art is liable to un- / truth Jrom reflecting exclusively the bias of a certain temperament. TheToIIowing description 208 THE MORAL ECONOMY of a class of contemporary dramas is not wholly inapt: They either represent an architect, who for some reason has not fulfilled his former high resolves and in consequence of this climbs on the roof of a house built by him and from there flies down headlong; or some incomprehensible old woman, who raises rats and for some unknown reason takes a poetic child to the sea and there drowns it; or some blind people, who, sitting at the sea-shore, for some reason all the time repeat one and the same thing; or a bell which flies into a lake and there keeps ringing. 19 /That a tendency to cultivate acquaintance with /the curious and rare, and communicate it to a /narrow* groiip^of initiated persons, is character- / istic of modern times, and that on the whole it / is a symptom of decadence, Tolsttjy has, IJbelieve, ! provecH At any rate, the effect of such a tendency t hTaiTcan not fail to be morally injurious, since life is not represented proportionately. Art has much to do with the vogue and prestige of ideas. Thus, for example, though the problem-play may be faithful to life where it deals with life, if the stage be given over wholly to this form of drama, there will almost inevitably result a false conception of the degree^to which the incidents selected are representative of social conditions on the whole. There is one further source of moral error in connection with this function of art. Because art can not only fix ideas but also make them al- CRITICISM OF FINE ART 209 luring, it ma^jnvest them with a fictitious I refer to whatis only a different aspect oFTRat sentimentalism or chronic emotionalism to which I Gave already called attention. Not only is it possible that men should be brought through the aesthetic interest to replace action with emo- tion; they may also persuade themselves that the higher principles of life owe their validity to some quality that is discerned immediately in the appre- hension of them. But purpose, justice, and good- will are essentially principles of organization; their virtue is their provident working. To regard them only as images with a value inhering in their bare essence, is to forfeit their benefits. Verbalism, formalism, mysticism, are given a certain false charm and semblance of self-suffi- ciency by the cultivation and exercise of the aesthetic interest. Hence morality and religion must here resist its enticements, and never cease to remind themselves that theirs is the task of acknowledging all interests according to their real inwardness, and of banishing cruelty and blindness in their behalf. VIII s ^ f -*?' ** Finally, art serves to liberalize life, to make it expansive and. generous in^pirE This is possi- ble because, in the first place, art is unworldly. I mean simply that the enjoyment of beauty is not 210 THE MORAL ECONOMY a part of ambition; that it does not call into play those habits of calculation and forms of skill that conduce to success in livelihood or the gaining of any of the proximate ends of organized social life. It frees the mind from its harness and turns it out to pasture. I suppose that every one has had that experience of spiritual refreshment which occasionally comes when one has gone body and soul out of doors, or when one is deliv- ered over to the enchantment of sober and ele- vating music, and suddenly made aware of the better things that have been long forgotten. Such experiences are a moral inspiration. It is as though, the clamor of the world being for the moment shut out, one hears at last the voices that speak with authority. For an instant the broad sweep of truth flashes upon eyes that have been too intently watchful of affairs near at hand. The good- will can be sustained only by a mind that now and then withdraws itself from its en- gagements, and expands its view to the full measure of life. For the momentary inhibiting of the narrower practical impulses, and the evok- ing of this quiet and contemplative mood, the love of nature and the love of art are the most reliable means. But art promotes liberality of spirit in an even more definitely__inoral sense. For art, like all forms of culture, and like the service of humanity, CRITICISM OF FINE ART 211 provides for thejiighest type of social intercourse. The aesthetic interest is one of those rare inter- ests which are common to all men without be- ing competitive. All men require bread, but since this interest requires exclusive possession of its objects, its very commonness is a source of suspicion and enmity. Similarly all men re- quire truth and beauty and civilization, but these objects are enhanced by the fact that all may rejoice in them without their being divided or becoming the property of any man. They bring men together without rivalry and in- trigue, in a spirit of good-fellowship. "Cul- i ture," says Matthew Arnold, "is not satisfied till we all come to a perfect man; it knows that the""sweetness and light of the few must be imperfect until the raw and unkindled masses of humanity are touched with sweetness and light." 'This,' he continues, 'is the social idea; and the men of culture are the true apostles of equality. The great men of culture are those who have had a passion for diffusing, for making prevail, for carrying from one end of society to the other, the best knowl- edge, the best ideas of their time; who have labored to divest knowledge of all that was harsh, uncouth, difficult, abstract, professional, exclusive; to human- ize it, to make it efficient outside the clique of the cultivated and learned, yet still remaining the best knowledge and thought of the time, and a true source, therefore, of sweetness and light.' 212 THE MORAL ECONOMY Art, both in the creation and in the enjoyment jsfjt, is thus true to the deepest motive oTmoral- ity. It is a remoulding of nature to the enoTthat IX I have sought to place before you what, art may contribute _to life. It will have become plain that while art Js_the natural and powerful all^ of morality, it does not itself provide any 7 , ___ guar antee__oj^roj^r_control ; in the interests of goodness, on the* wholeTno ^man can surrender himself tojt ^utterly. The good-will is not proved V until, as Plato said, it is tried with enchantments, and founoTto be strong and true. Goodness can not be cast upon a man like a spell; it is a work of rational organization, and can not be had with- out discipline, efficiency, and service. But it is for art to surround life with fit auspices; to create an environment that reflects and forecasts its best achievements, thus both making a home for it and confirming its resolves. Having modelled this moral criticism of art upon the method of Plato, I shall conclude with his familiar summary of all the wisdom and elo- quence that there is in the matter: Let our artists rather be those who are gifted to discern the true nature of beauty and grace; then will our youth dwell in the land of health, amid fair sights CRITICISM OF FINE ART 213 and sounds; and beauty, the effluence of fair works, will visit the eye and ear, like a healthful breeze from a purer region, and insensibly draw the soul even in childhood into harmony with the beauty of reason. 21 CHAPTER VI THE MORAL JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 1 IT is generally agreed that religion is either the paramountjssue or the most serious obstacle to progress. To its devotees religion is of over- whelming importance; to unbelievers it is, in the phrasing of Burke, "superstitious folly, en- thusiastical nonsense, and holy tyranny." The difference between the friends and the enemies of religion may, I think, be resolved as follows : Religion recognizes some final arbitration of human destiny; //it is a lively awareness of the fact that, while man proposes, it is only within certainjiarrow limits that he can dispose his own plans. His nicest adjustments and most ardent longings are overruled; he knows that until he can discount or conciliate that which commands his fortunes his condition is precarious and miser- able. And through his eagerness to save himself he leaps to ^conclusions that are uncritical and premature^ Irreligion, on the other hand, flour- ishes among those who are more snugly intrenched 214 ^^^^urro jjHisi JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 215 within the cities of man. It is a product of civil- ization. Comfortably housed as he is, and en- joying an artificial illumination behind drawn blinds, the irreligious man has the heart to criti- cise the hasty speculations and abject fear of those who stand without in the presence of the rrounding darkness. In other words, religion rpetually on the exposed side of civilization, itive to the blasts that blow frorrTthe surround- ing universe; while irreligion is in the lee of civil- ization, with enougn remove from danger to foster a refined concern for logic and personal liberty. There is a sense, then, in which both religion and irreligion are to be justified. If re- ligion is guilty of unreason, irreligion is guilty of apathy. For without doubt the situation of the individual man is broadly such as religion con- ceives it to be. There is nothing that he can build, nor any precaution that he can take, that weighs appreciably in the balance against the powers which decree good and ill fortune, catas- trophe and triumph, life and death. Hence to be without fear is the part of folly. Behold, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom. Religion is man's recognition of the overruling , control of his fortunes. It is neither metaphysi- f cal nor mythical, but urgently practical Prime- val chaos, Chronos, the father of Zeus, and the long line of speculative Absolutes have no woj:- 216 THE MORAL ECONOMY shippers because they take no hand in man's affairs. They may be neglected with impunity. But not so the gods who send health and sickness, fertility and death, victory and defeat; or He who sits in judgment on the last day to determine the doom of eternity. Religion is the manifestation of supreme concern for life, an alertness to remotest threat of danger and promise of ho A certain momentousness attaches to all the fairs of religion, because everything is at staked Its dealings are with the last court of appeal, in behalf of the most indispensable good. In form, religion is a case of belief; that is, of settled conviction. There is no religion until some interpretation of life, some accommodation be- tween man and God, has been so far accepted as to be unhesitatingly practised. The absurdity of doubt in matters of religion has been pointed out in the well-known parody, "O God, if_ there be a God, save my soul, if I have a soul." ^The quality of religion lies not in the entertaining of a speculative hypothesis, but in an assurance so confident that its object is not only thought but enacted. God is not God until his unquestioned existence is assimilated to life. Indeed, it is con- ceivable that an object thus made the basis of action should still remain theoretically doubtful. To Fontenelle is attributed the remark that he "did not believe in ghosts, but was afraid of the^^ s JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 217 them," This is a paradox until we distinguish theoretical and practical conviction; then it be- comes not only credible but commonplace. If one prays to God, it is not necessary for the purposes of religion that one should, in Fonte- nelle's sense, believe in him. But I prefer to use the term "belief" more strictly, to connote such assent as expresses itself, not in a deliberate judgment made conformable to one's intellectual conscience, but in fear, love, and purpose, in habit- ual imagery, in any attitude or activity that spon- taneously and freely presupposes the object with which it deals. By conceiving religion as belief we may under- stand not only its air of certainty, but also the variety of its forms and agencies. Belief sits at the centre of life and qualifies all its manifesta- tions. Hence the futility of attempting to asso- ciate religion exclusively with any single function of man. The guises in which religious belief may appear are as multiform as human nature, and will vary with every shading of mood and tem- perament. Its central objects may be thought, imagined, or dealt with in short, responded to in all the divers ways, internal and overt, that the powers and occasions of life define. This will suffice, I trust, to lay the general topic of religion before us. I shall employ the terms and phrases which I have formulated as a work- 218 THE MORAL ECONOMY ing definition: Religion is belief on the part of it individuals or communities concerning the final I or overruling control of their interests. 2 I pro- pose from this point to keep in the forefront of the discussion the standards whereby religion is to be estimated, and approved or condemned. On what grounds may a religion be criticised? What would constitute the proof of an absolute religion? History is strewn with discredited religions; men began to quarrel over religion so soon as they had any; and it is customary for every religious devotee to believe jealously and exclusively. There can be no doubt, then, that ^religion is subject to justification; it remains to distinguish the tests which may with propriety be applied, and irT particular to isolate and em- phasize the moral test. II In the first place, let me mention briefly a test which it is customary to apply, but which is"not so much an estimate as it is a measure. I refer to the various respects in which an individual or community may be said to be more or less religious. Thus, for example, certain religious phenomena surpass others in acuteness~of in- tensity. ~TrTisis~pettriiariy4rue of the phenomena manifested in conversion and in revivals. In this respect the mysteries of the ancients exceeded JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 219 their regular public worship. Individuals and communities vary in the degree to which they are capable of enthusiasm, excitement, or ecstasy. Or a religion may be measured extensively. He whose religion is constant and uniform is more religious than he whose observance is con- fined to the Sabbath day, or he whose concern in the matter appears only in time of trouble or at the approach of death. This test may best be summed up Jn terms of consistency. Relig- 1 ion may vary in the degree to whichlt pervades the various activities of life. That religion is confined and small which manifests itself only in words or public deeds or emotions exclusively. If it is to be effective it must be systematic, so (thoroughly adopted as to beTcumuIative and pro- 'gressive. It must_engage every activity, qualify all thought and imagination, in short, infuse the whole of life with its saving grace. It is clear, however, that a measure of religion does not constitute either proof or disproof. If a religion be good or true, or on like grounds ac- credited, then the more of it the better. But differences of degree appear in all religions. In- deed, the quantitative test has been most ade- quately met by forms of religion the warrant of which is generally held to be highly questionable. We may, therefore, dismiss this test without further consideration. The~ application of it must be 220 THE MORAL ECONOMY based upon a prior and more fundamental justi- fication. >2 ) There is one test of religion which has been /universally applied by believers and critics alike, a test which, I think, will shortly appear Jx>_deserve precedence ove.r all others. I refer to the test ^oj truth.^ Every religion has been justiHecf to its believers and recommended to unbelievers on grounds of evidence. It has been verified in its working, or attested by either observation, re- flection, revelation, or authority. In spite of the general assent which this prop- osition will doubtless command, *t is deserving of special emphasis at the present time. Students of religion have latterly shifted attention from its claims to truth to its-aitility and subjective V form. This pragmatic and psychological study of religion has created no little confusion of mind concerning its real meaning, and obscured that which is after all its essential claim the claim, namely, to offer an illumination of life. Relig- ious belief, like all belief, is reducible to judg- v ments. These judgments are not, it is true, ex- plicit and theoretically formulated; but they are none the less answerable to evidence from that context of experience to which they refer. It is true that the believer's assurance is not con- sciously rational, but it is none the less liable be- fore the court of reason. Cardinal Newman JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 221 fairly expressed the difference between the method of religion and the method of science when he said that "ten thousand difficulties do not make one doubt," that "difficulty and doubt are in- commensurate." 3 Nevertheless, the difficulties are in each case germane; and the fact that every article of faith has its besetting doubt is proof that the thorough justification of faith requires the settlement of theoretical difficulties. No religion can survive the demonstration of its untruttTTTor " salvatlonT'wfieth'ef' present or eternal, depends on processes actually operative in the environment. Religion must reveal the undeniable situation and prepare man for it. It must charge the unbeliever with being guilty of folly, with deceiving himself through failing to see and take heed. Every religious propaganda is a cry of warning, putting men on their guard against invisible dangers; or a promise of suc- cor, bringing glad tidings of great joy. And its prophecy is empty and trivial if the danger or the succor can be shown to ..be-tmreal. The one unfailing bias in life is the bias for disillusion- ment, springing from the organic instinct for that real environment to which, whether friendly or hostile, it must adapt itself. Every man knows in his heart that he can not be saved through being deceived. Illusions can not endure, and those who lightly perpetrate them are fortunate 222 THE MORAL ECONOMY if they escape the resentment and swift vengeance which overtook the prophets of Baal. The grounds of religious truth will require prolonged .consideration; but before discussing them further let me first mention a test of religion which belongs to the class of psychological and pragmatic tests to which I have just alluded, but whicrTTlas latterly assumed special prominence. Though realizing that I use a somewhat disparag- ing term, I suggest that we call this the " thera- peutic test." It has been proved that the state of piety possesses a direct curative value through its capacity toexhilarate of padf&^accorciing to the needs of a disordered mind. As a potent form of suggestion, it lends itself to the uses of psychiatry; it may be medicinally employed as a tonic, stimulant, or sedative. Now we can afford to remind ourselves that, at least from the point of view of the patient, this use of religion bears a striking resemblance to certain primitive practices in which God_was con- ceived as a glorified _medicine-man, and the heal- ing of the body strangely confused with spiritual regeneration. Bishop Gregory of Tours once addressed the following apostrophe to the wor- shipful St. Martin: "O unspeakable theriac! ineffable pigment! admirable antidote! celestial purgative! superior to all the skill of physicians, more fragrant than aromatic drugs, stronger than JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 223 all ointments combined! thou cleanest the bowels as well as scammony, and the lungs as well as hyssop; thou cleanest the head as well as camo- mile!" It is true that religion is in these days recom- mended for more subtle disorders; but even re- ligious ecstasy may be virtually equivalent to a mere state of emotional exhilaration, or piety to a condition of mental and moral stupor. What does it profit a man to be content with his lot, or to experience the rapture of the saints, if he has lost his soul? The saving of a soul is a much more serious matter than the cessation of worry or the curing of insomnia, or even than the acquiring of a habit of delirious joy. Tranquillity and hap- piness are, it is true, the legitimate fruits of re- ligion, but only provided they be infused with good- ness and truth. If religion is to be a spiritual / tonic, and not merely a physical tonic, it must be based on moral organization and intellectual enlightenment. I cfo not doubt that religion has in all times recommended itself to men mainly through its contributing to their lives a certain peculiar buoyancy and peace. There is such a generic value in religion, which can not be at- tributed wholly to any of its component parts. BuL like the intensity or extent of religion, this may manifest itself upon all levels of develop- ment. ISound piety, a tranquillity -and happiness 224 THE MORAL ECONOMY which mark the soul's real salvation, must be founded on truth, on an interpretation of life which expresses^the fullest light. Again, then, we are referred to thejest of truth for the funda- mental jusTTfication of religion7"""There is a ge- neric value which is deserving of the last word, but that word can be said only after a rigorous ex- amination of the more fundamental values from which it is derived. Religious truth is divisible into two judgments, involved in every religious belief, and answerable respectively t3 'ethical and kbsmological evidence. Since religion is a belief concerning the overruling control of human interests, it involves on the one hand a summing up of these interests, a concep- tion of what the believer has at stake, in short, an ethical judgment; and on the other hand, an interpretation of the environment at large, in other words, a cosmological judgment. Religion construes the practical situation in its totality; which means that it generalizes concerning the content of fortune, or the good, and the sources of fortune, or nature. Both factors are invaria- bly present, and no religion_ can escajge criticism on this twpfold ground. J The ethical implications of religion are pe- culiarly far-reaching, since they determine not only its conception of man, but also, in part, its conceptioiTbl 'God. This is due to the fact that JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 225 the term "God" signifies not the environment in its inherent nature, but the environment in its bearing on the worshipper's interests. It fol- lows that whether God be construed as favor- able or hostile will depend upon the worshipper's conception of these interests. Thus, for example, ' if worldly success Vr long life be regarded as the values most eagerly to be conserved, God must be feared as cruel or capricious; whereas, if the lesson of discipline and humility be conceived as the highest good, it may be reasonable to trust the providence of God without any change in its manifestation. Furthermore, as we shall shortly have occasion to remark, it is characteristic^ religion to insist, so far as possible, ~upbn the favor ableness of the environment. But this favorableness must be construed in terms of what are held to be man's highest interests. Consequently, the disposition and motive of God always reflect human purposes. This is the main source_pf the_meyjtable antluppo- morphism of religion. d Conceptions of nature, on the other hand, de- nne the degree to which the environment is morally determined, and the unity or plurality of its causes. Animism, for example, reflectsTthe general opinion that the causes of natural events are wilful rather than mechanical. Such an opinion obtained at the time when no sharp dis- 226 THE MORAL ECONOMY tinction was made between inorganic and organic phenomena, the action of the environment being conceived as a play of impulses. Religion is corrected, then, by light obtained Jlfrom these sources: man's knowledge of his | [highest interests, and his knowledge of nature. As a rule, one or the other of these two methods of criticism tends to predominate, in accordance with the genius of the race or period.^ Thus, the evolution of Greek religion is determined mainly by the development of science. Xenoph- anes attacks the religion of his times on the ground of its crude anthropomorphism. "Mor- tals," he says, "think that the gods are born as they are, and have perception like theirs, and voice and form." But this naive opinion Xenoph- anes corrects because it is not consistent with the new enlightenment concerning the />%?7, or first principle of nature. "And he [God] abideth ever in the same place, moving not at all; nor doth it befit him to go about, now hither, now thither." 5 In a later age Lucretius criticised the whole system of Greek religion in terms of the atomistic and mechanical cosmology of Epicurus :~~ For verily not by design did the first-beginnings of things station themselves each in its right place guided by keen intelligence, nor did they bargain sooth to say what motions each should assume; but because many in number and shifting about in many ways throughout the universe they are driven and JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 227 tormented by blows during infinite time past, after trying motions and unions of every kind at length they fall into arrangements such as those out of which this our sum of things has been formed. 9 In the light of such principles Lucretius demon- strates the absurdity of hoping or fearing any- thing from a world beyond or a life to come. In this case, as in the case above, the religion of en- lightenment does not differ essentially from the religion of the average man in its conception of the interests at stake, but only in its conception of the methods of worship or forms of imagery which it is reasonable to employ in view of the actual nature of the environment, l) If, on the other hand, we turn to the early de- velopment of the Hebrew religion, we find that it is corrected to meet the demands not of cosmo- logical but of ethical enlightenment. No ques- tion arises as "to the existence of power of God, but only as to whatjierequires of those who serve him. The prophets represent the moral "genius of the race, its acute discernment of the causes of social integrity or decay. "And when ye spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes from you: yea, when ye make many prayers, I will not hear: your hands are full of blood. Wash you, make you clean; put away the evil of your doings from before mine eyes; cease to do evil: learn to do well; seek judgment, relieve 228 THE MORAL ECONOMY the oppressed, judge the fatherless, plead for the widow." 7 But whichever of these two methods of criti- cism predominates, it is clear that they both i drawupon bodies of truth whidTgrow inc dentjvjrf religion. ^The history of Cnnsuanitv affords a most remarkable record of the continual adjustment Of religious be^f tn Qprnl^f rationality The offices of religion have availed no more to justify cruelty, intolerance, and bigotry than to establish the Ptolemaic astronomy or the Scrip- tural account of creation. This is more readily admitted in the case of natural science than in the case of ethics, but only because teachers of re- ligion have commonly had a more expert acquaint- ance with moral matters than with the orbits of the planets or the natural history of the earth. For the principles of conduct, like the princi- \ pies of nature, must be derived from a study of the field to jjyJbdch they are applied. They re- quire nothing more for their establishment than the analysis and generalization of the moral situ- ation. If two or more persons conduct themselves with reference to one another and to an external object, their action either possesses or lacks, in some degree, that specific value which we call moral goodness. And by the principles of ethics we mean the principles which truly define and explicate this value. Now neither the truth nor JUSTIFICATION O, RELIGION 229 the falsity^Ql^any^-refeion affects tKese funda- mpntg.l_m1f^ essential conditions. If the teach- ings of religion be accepted as true, then certain factors may be added to the concrete practical situation; but if so, these fall within the field of ^ morality and must be submitted to ethical prin- ciples. Thus, if there "T>e a God whose^ person- ality permits of reciprocal social relations with man, then man ought, in the moral sense, to be prudent with reference to him, and may reason- abTydemand justice or good-will at his hands. But the mere existence of a God, whatever be his nature, c^n^either^jnyalidat nor establish the ,pthira1 prinripjes T>fprudenc^4ustice, and good-will. Were a God whose existence is proved, to recommend injustice, this would not affect in the sTighfesTdegree" the moraA obligation to be just. Moral revelation stands upCft precisely the same footing as revelation in the sphere of theoretical truth: its acceptance can be justified only through its being confirmed by experience or reason. In other words, it is the office of r^ve- lation-tQ reveal truth 1 frit not to pQtaVJj^h it. In consequence of this fact it may even be necessary that a man should redeem the truth in defiance of what he takes to be the disposition of God. Neither individual conscience nor the moral judg- ment of mankind can be superseded or modified save through a higher insight which these may \ 2 3 o THE MORAL ECONOMY themselves be brought to confirm. Whatever a man may think of God, if he continues to live in the midst of his fellows, he places himself ^within thejurisdiction of the laws which obtain / ij there. Morality is^he method of reconciling and N- /( fulfilling the interests of beings having the capacity I / to conduct themselves rationally, and ethics is the I | formulation of the general principles which under- i lie this^ method. The attempt to live rationally and, humanly speaking, there is no alternative save the total abnegation of life brings one within the jurisdiction of these principles, pre- cisely as thinking brings one within the juris- diction of the principles of logic, or as the moving of one's body brings one within the jurisdiction of the principles of mechanics. Religion, then, mediates an enlightenment which it does not of itself originate. In religious belief the truth which is derived from a studious v observation of nature and the cumulative ex- perience of life, is heightened and vivified. Like all belief religion is conservative, and rightly so. Tint jri the long run, steadily and inevitably, it responds to every forward step which man is enabled to take through the exercise of his natural cognitive powers. Only so does religion serve its real purpose of benefiting life by expanding its horizon and defining its course. I have hitherto left out of account a certain JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 231 stress or insistence that must now be recognized as fundamental in religious development. This I shall call the optimistic bias. This bias is not accidental or arbitrary, but significant of the fact ^that religion, like morality, springs from the same V 'motive as life itself^and makes towards the same goal of Jfciiiiicauaiid_jabundance. LJfe^is essen- tially interest, and interest is essentially positive or provident; fear is incidental to hope, and hate to lovrf Man seeks to know the worst only in order tr&t he may avoid or counterwork it in the furtherance of his interests. Religion is the re- / suit of man's search for support in the last ex- tremity. This is true, even when men are largely preoccupied with the mere struggle for existence. It appears more and more plainly as life becomes aggressive, and is engaged in the constructive enterprise of civilization. Religion expresses man's highest hope of attainment, whether this be conceived as the efficacy of a fetich or the king- dom of God. Such, then, are the general facts of religion, and the fundamental critical principles which ^justify and define its development. Religion is man's belief in salvation, his confident appeal to the overruling control of his ultimate fortunes. The recQnsltuction of religious belief is made necessary whenever it fails to express the last verified truth, cosmological or ethical. The 232 THE MORAL ECONOMY direction of religious development is thus a re- sultant of two forces: "tie optimistic bias, or the saving hope of life; and rational criticism, or the progressive revelation of the principles which de- fine life and its environment. I shall proceed now to the consideration of types of religion which illustrate this critkal reconstruction. The types which I shall select represent certain forms of inadequacy which I think it important to distinguish. They are only roughly historical, as is necessarily the case, since all religions represent different types in the vari- ous stages jaLtheir devetopmefit^and in the differ- ent interpretations which are put on them in any given time by various classes of believers. I shall consider in turn, using the terms in a manner to be precisely indicated as we pioceGU*supersti- tion? tutelary religion, and two forms o philo- sophical religion, the w\o* metaphysical idealism, and the other moral idealism. ^ . Superstition is distinguished by a lack of organ- ization both in man and his environment. It is a direct cross-relationship between an elementary interest, passion, or need, and some isolated and capricious natural power. The deity is externally related to the worshipper, having private inter- ests of his own which the worshipper respects JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 233 <*? only from motives of prudence. Religious ob- servanceTakes the form df barter or propitiation do ut des, do ut abeas. The methocTof supersti- tion is arbitrary, furthermore, in that it is defined only by the liking or aversion of an unprincipled agency. fj , Let us consider briefly the type of superstition which is associated with the most primitive stage in the development of society. 8 The worshipper has neither raised nor answered the ethical_ques- ^ tion as to what is his greatest good. Indeed, he is much more concerned to meet the pressing needs of life than he is to co-ordinate them or under- stand to what they lead. He can not even be said to be actuated by the principle ofj^tional^ self- interest. Like the brute, whose lot is similar to TiisTown, he feels his wants severally, and is forced to meet them as they arise or be trampled under foot in the struggle for existence. There is little ^coordination of his interests beyond that which is provided for in the organic and social structure with which nature has endowed him. Over and above the instinct of self-preservation he recognizes in custom the principle of tribal or racial solidarity. But this is~proof, not so much of a recognition of community of interest, as of the vagueness of his ideas concerning the boundaries of his own self- hood. The very fact that his interests are scat- tering and loosely knit prevents him from clearly 234 THE MORAL ECONOMY distinguishing his own. He readily identifies him- self not only with his body, but with his clothing, his habitation, and various trinkets which have been accidentally associated with his life. It is only natural that he should similarly identify himself with those other beings like himself with whom he is connected by the bonds of blood and of intimate contact. Morally, then, primitive I man is an indefinite and incoherent aggregate of jl interests^whicF^have not yet assumed the form even of individual and community purpose. )To turn to the second, -or cosmological, com- ponent, we find that primitive InarTs i conception of ultimate powers is like his conception of his own interests in being both indefinite and incoherent. In consequence of the daily vicissitudes of his fortune, he is well aware that he is affected for better or for worse by agencies which fall outside the more familiar routine operations of society and nature. So great is the disproportion be- tween the calculable and the incalculable elements of his life that he is like a man crouching in the dark, expecting a blow from any quarter. The agencies whose working can be discounted in ad- vance form his secular world; but this world is narrow and meagre, and is overshadowed by a beyond which is both mysterious and terrible. Of the world beyond he has no single comprehen- sive idea, but he acknowledges it in his expecta- JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 235 tion of the injuries and benefits which he may at any time receive from it. It is an abyss whose depths he has never sounded, but which he is forced practically to recognize, since he is at the mercy of forces which emanate from it. The method of primitive religion is the in- evitable^sequel. In behalf ot tne interests wffich represent hTm man must here, as ever, make the best terms he can with the powers which be- set him. He has no concern with these powers except thejiesire to propitiate them. He has no knowledge of their~~working excepting as re- spects their bearing upon his interests. Obey- ing a law of human nature which is as valid now as then, he seeks for remedies whose proof is the cure which tfiey effect. Let the association be- tween a certain action on his own part and a fa- vorable turn in the tide of fortune once be estab- lished, and the subsequent course of events will/ seem to confirm it. Coincidences are remembered and exceptions forgotten.T'urtKer morerhts belief in the effectual working of the_ established plan is always justified by the difficulty of proving any other alternative plan to be better. But, in" order to understand superstition, it is not necessary to reconstruct the earliest period in the history of society, nor even to study con- temporary savage life, for the superstitious in- telligence and the superstitious method-survive 236 THE MORAL ECONOMY in every stage of development. They appear, for example, in mediaeval Christianity; in Clovis's appeal to Christ on the battle-field: " Clotilda says that Thou art the Son of the living God, and that Thou dost give victory to those who put their trust in Thee. I have besought my gods, but they give me no aid. I see well that their strength is naught. I beseech Thee, and I will believe in Thee, only save me from the hands of mine enemies." The same period is represented by the petition attributed to St. Eloi, "Give, Lord, since we have given! Da, Domine, quia dedimus!" 9 In modern life the motive_of super- stition pervades almost all worship, appearing in sundry expectations of speciaTiavor to be gained by service or importunity. The application of critical enlightenment to this type of religion has already been made with general consent. It is recognized that morally super^stition represents the merely prudential level oTlife: Ir Bespeaks" "a state of panic or a narrow regard for isolated needs and desires. Furthermore, it tends to emphasize these consid- erations and at the same time degrade the object of worship through claiming the attention of God in their behalf. The deity is conceived, not under the form of a broad and consecutive pur- pose, but under the form of a casual and desultory good-nature. JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 237 But superstition has been corrected mainly by the advancement of scientific knowledge. Sci- ence has pronounced finally against the belief in localized or isolated natural processes. Whether the mechanical theory be accepted or not, its method is beyond question, in so far as it defines laws and brings all events and phenomena under their control. In the dealings of nature there can be no favoritism, no special dispensations, no bargaining over the counter. IV The correction of superstition brings us to our second type7~wfnch 1 have chosen to call tutelary religion. It is distinguished by the fact that life is organized into a^ definite purpose, which, al- though still narrow and partisan with reference to humanity at large, nevertheless embraces and subordinates the manifold desires of a community. The deity represents this purpose in the cosmos at large, and rallies the forces of nature to its support. He is no longer capricious, but is pos- sessed of a character defined by systematic de- votion to an end. His ways are the ways of effectiveness. Furthermore, since his aims are identical with those of his worshippers, he is now loved and served for himself. It follows that he will demand of his followers only conformity to those rules which define the realization of the 238 THE MORAL ECONOMY common aim, and that these rules will be en- forced by rhe community as the conditions of its secular well-being. Ritual is no longer arbitrary, but is based on an enlightened knowledge of ways and means. While this type of religion is clearly present in the most primitive tribal worship, it is best exemplified when a racial or national purpose manifests itself aggressively and self-consciously, as in the cases of ancient Assyria and Egypt. Here God is identified with the kingship, both being symbols of nationality. Among the As- syrians the national purpose was predominantly one of military aggrandizement. Istar commu- nicates to Esar-haddon this promise of support: "Fear not, O Esar-haddon; the breath of inspira- tion which speaks to thee is spoken by me, and I conceal it not. ... I am the mighty mistress, Istar of Arbela, who have put thine enemies to flight before thy feet. Where are the words which I speak unto thee, that thou hast not believed them? ... I am Istar of Arbela; in front of thee and at thy side do I march. Fear not, thou art in the midst of those that can heal thee; I am in the midst of thy host." 10 Egyptian nationality was identified rather with the principles of agriculture and political organi- zation. The deity is the fertilizing Nile, or the judge of right conduct. There is recorded in JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 239 the Book of the Dead the pleading of a soul be- fore Osiris, in which the commands of the god x~ are thusjdentified with the conditions of national ^welfare: I have not committed fraud and evil against men. I have not diverted justice in the judgment hall. I have not known meanness. I have not caused a man to do more than his day's work. I have not caused a slave to be ill treated by his overseer. I have not committed murder. I have not spoiled the bread of offering in the temple. I have not added to the weight of the balance. I have not taken milk from the mouths of children. I have not turned aside the water at the time of in- undation. I have not cut off an arm of the river in its course. 11 Similar illustrations might be drawn from the nationalistic phase of Hebraism. The same principle appears in mediaeval Christianity, and is thus embodied in the prologue of the Salic Law, "Long live the Christ, who loves the' Franks." In more recent times one might point to the Christianity of the Puritan revolution, not wholly misrepresented by the maxim popularly attributed to Cromwell, "Put your trust in God and keep your powder dry," or in Poor Richard's observation that " God helps them that help them- selves." Such is the religion of nationalism, sectarian- 2 4 o THE MORAL ECONOMY ism, of sustained but narrow purpose. I shall not attempt to formulate exhaustively the ideas through which this religion has been corrected. \It is clear that its defect lies in its partisansVg'p. All forms of partisanship yield slowly but inevi- tably to the higher conception of social solidarity. Such enlightenment reflects a recognition of community of interest, and a widening of sym- pathy through intercourse and acquaintance. Tutelary religion, in short, is corrected through ( 'the validity of the ethical principles" or. jUsttee and g55c^iU but not jso an evil which is absolutely necessary, and which must be construed with some hypo- thetical divine satisfaction. This in no way contradicts the fact that the 250 THE MORAL ECONOMY fullest life under present conditions involves contact with evil. Innocence" must be tragic if it is not to be weak. Jesus without the cross would possess something of that quality of un- reality which attaches to Aristotle's high-minded man. But this does not prove that life involves * evil; it jproves only that life will be narrow and \ ^mplacent when it is out e touch with things as^they are. Since evil is now real, he who alto- gether escapes it is ignorant and idle, taking no hand in the real work to be done. Not to feel pain when pain abounds, not to bear some share of the burden, is indeed cause for shame. In that remarkable allegory, "The Man Who Was Thurs- day," Chesterton has most vividly presented this truth. In the last confrontation, the real an- archist, the spokesman of Satan, accuses the friends of order of being happy, of having been protected from suffering. But the philosopher, who has hitherto been unable to understand the despair to which he and his companions have been driven, repels this slander, 'I see everything,' he cried, * everything that there is. Why does each thing on the earth war against each other thing ? Why does each small thing in the world have to fight against the world itself? ... So that each thing that obeys law may have the glory and isolation of the anarchist. So that each man fighting for order may be as brave and good a man as the dynamiter. So that the real lie of Satan may be JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 251 flung back in the face of this blasphemer, so that by tears and torture we may earn the right to say to this man, "You lie!" No agonies can be too great to buy, the right to say to this accuser, "We also have suffered." 'It is not true that we have never been broken. We have been broken upon the wheel. . . . We have descended into hell. We were complaining of un- forgettable miseries even at the very moment when this man entered insolently to accuse us of happiness. I repel the slander; we have not been happy.' 20 But the charge of happiness is to be repelled as a slander only because there are real sufferers in the world to make the charge. It isTaJter all, noTliappiness but insensibility which is the real disgrace. If the suffering is real, not to see it, not to feel it, not to heal it, is intolerable. To say, however, that suffering is wilfully caused in order that it may eventually contribute to an ultimate reconciliation, is to charge God with something worse than complacency. If life is a real tragedy it can be endured, and to enter into it will bring the deep satisfaction which every form of heroism affords. But if the tragedy of life be preconceived and wilfully perpetrated, it must be resented for the sake of self-respect. Even man possesses a dignity which is not con- sistent with puppetry and mock heroics. Moral idealism means to interpret life consist- \ pntVy^Wifh fthi^lj griVntifir, cmH ^PJ^phygiral ^ truth. It endeavors to justify the maximum of 252 THE MORAL ECONOMY hope, without compromising or confusing any en- lightened judgment of truth. In this it is, I think, not only consistent with the spirit of a liberal -and rational age, but also with the primary - motive of religion. There can be no religion with reserva- tions, fearful of increasing light. No man can do the work of religion without an open and can- did mind as well as an indomitable purpose. I can not here elaborate the evidence upon which moral idealism is grounded; but it might be broadly classified as ethical, cosmological, and historical. /l^The ethical ground of moral ideal- ism is the virtual unity of life, the working therein of one eventual purpose sustained by the good- will of all moral beings j* The cosmological proof lies in the moral_ fruitfulness and plasticity of nature- . The historical proof lies in the fact of morarprogress, in the advent and steady better- ment of life. VII In conclusion I wish to revert to the topic of the generJ_prooLjQ religion. We have defined the tests which any special religion must meet, and unless conformably to such tests it is possible to justify some form of idealism, it is clear that the full possibilities of religion as a source of strength ancf consolation must fail to be realized. But it may now be affirmed that there is a moral JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 253 value in religion which is independent of the cos- rn^Ibgrcai^onsiderafions whicfTprpve or disprove a special religion. No scientific or metaphysical evidence can controvert the fact 'that man is en- gaged in an enterprise which comprehends all the actualities and possibilities of life, and that the success of this enterprise is conditioned, in the end, on the compliance of the universe. A sum- ming up of the situation as involving these two factors is morally inevitable. Some solution of the problem, assimilated and enacted, in other words, some form of piety, is no more than the last stage of moral growth. The vahie of religious belief, in this generic moral sense, consists in the enlargement of the / circle_ofjife. Man knows the best and the worst; he walks in the open, apprehending the world in its full sweep and just proportions. An in- clusive view of the universe, whatever it may re- veal, throws into relief the lot of man. Religion promulgates the idea of life as a whole, and com- poses and proportions its activities with refer- ence to their ultimate end. Religion advocates not the virtues in their severalty, but the whole moral enterprise. With this it affiliates all the sundry activities of life, thus bringing both action and thought under the form of service of the ideal. At the same time it offers a supreme object for the passions, which are otherwis%~-tHvkled against 254 THE MORAL ECONOMY themselves, or vented upon unworthy and fan- tastical objects. Through being thus economized and guidedjjiese moying_energies may be brought to suprjorXmoraL endeavQr_aad bear it with them in their current. Piety carries with it also that sense of high re- solve without which life must be haunted with a sense of ignominy. This is the immediate value of the good-will: the full deliverance of one's self to^e cause of goedaess. This value is inde- pendent of attainment. It is that doing of one's best, which is the least that one can do. Having sped one's action with good-will, one can only leave the outcome to the confluence and sum- ming of like forces. But such service is blessed both in the eventualities and in a present har- mony as well. The good of participation in the greatest and most worthy enterprise is proved in its lending fruitfulness, dignity, and momen- tousness to action; but also in its infusing the individual life with that ardor and tenderness which is called the love of humanity and of God, and which is the only form of happiness that fully measures up to the awakened moral con- sciousness. Since religion emphasizes the unity of life and supplies it with meaning and dignity, it is the fc ' - - - ' ' "~ ii i _^ cti * 1 f religion to kindle moral enthusiasm nsociety at largei Religion is responsible for the JUSTIFICATION OF RELIGION 255 prestige of morality. As an institution, it is the appointed guardian and medium of that supreme value which is hidden from the world; of that finality which, in the course of human affairs, is so easily lost to view and so infrequently proved. It is therefore the function of the religious leader to make men lovers, not of the parts, but of the whole of goodness. Embarrassed by their very plenitude of life, men require to_haye the good- will that is injhem aroused andjmt in control. This, then7~is the work of religion: to strike home to the moral nature itself, and to induce in men a keener and more vivid realization of their latent ^reference for the higher over the lower values. ThisT office" requires for its fulfilment a constructive moral imagination, a power to arouse and direct the contagious emotions, and the use of the means of personality and ritual for the creation of a sweetening and uplifting en- vironment. In culture and religion human life is brought" to the elevation which is proper to it. They are both form~s~~bT discipline through which is incul- cated that qualit)Tof magnanimity and service which is the mark of spiritual maturity. But >. while culture is essentially contemplative, far- seeing, sensitive, and tolerant, religion is more stirring and_vital. Both are love of perfection, but" culture is admiration; religion, concern. 256 THE MORAL ECONOMY "Not he that saith Lord, Lord, but he that doeth the will of his Father, shall be saved." In re- ligion the old note of fear is always present. It is a perpetual watchfulness lest the work of life be undone, or lest a chance for the best be for- feited. NOTES CHAPTER I I Joseph Butler: Sermon VII, edited by Gladstone, p. 114. Cf. also Sermon X, on Self-Deceit. 'Nietsche: Beyond Good and Evil, translated by Helen Zimmern, p. 174. 3 Edmund Burke: A Vindication of Natural Society, Preface, pp. 4, 5. (Boston, 1806.) < The classic discussion of the whole matter is to be found in Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics, Book I, Chapters I-VI, translated by J. E. C. Welldon. Cf. also Fr. Paulsen: System of Ethics, Book II, Chapters I, II, translated by Frank Thilly; G. H. Palmer: The Nature of Goodness, Chapters I, II; and W. James: The Moral Philosopher and the Moral Life, in his Will to Believe. 6 The issue is presented clearly and briefly in Paulsen : Op. cit., Book II, Chapter II, and in James's Principles of Psy- chology, Vol. II, pp. 549-559- 8 Nietsche: Op. cit., p. 107. 7 Huxley: Evolution and Ethics and Other Essays, pp. 81- 82. The first two essays contained in this volume, the Prole- gomena, and the Romanes Lecture, contain a very interesting study of the relation of morality to nature. 8 Huxley: Op. cit., p. 13. 9 G. K. Chesterton: Napoleon of Netting Hill, p. 291. The whole book is a brilliant satire, intended to show that all of the heroic sentiments and virtues depend on war and local pride. 10 Nietsche: Op. cit., pp. 59, 163, 176, 223, 235, 237, 122. II Chesterton: Heretics, and Orthodoxy. "Plato: Protagoras, p. 322 (marginal pagination), and passim; translated by Jowett. 257 258 NOTES CHAPTER II I Locke: The Conduct of the Understanding, Bonn's Library Edition, Vol. I, p. 72; also, passim. Locke: Op. cit., p. 56. 8 Descartes: Discourse on Method, translated by Veitch, pp. 13-14. Also, passim. 4 Spinoza: The Improvement of the Understanding, trans- lated by Elwes, Vol. II, p. 4. * Cf. Plato's Republic, Books V-VII, passim. 8 For further discussion of the meaning of duty, cf. Kant's Critical Examination of the Practical Reason, Book I, Chapter III, translated in Abbott's Kant's Theory of Ethics, p. 164; Bradley's Ethical Studies, Essays II and V; and Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, Book I, Chapter III. 7 Chesterton: Napoleon of Notting Hill, p. 162. s G. E. Moore: Principia Ethica, Chapter III, Sect. 58-63. 9 Locke: Op. cit., p. 29. 10 There is an excellent account of the questions that lie on the border between ethics and jurisprudence in S. E. Mezes's Ethics, Descriptive and Explanatory, Chapter XIII. II Kant: Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals, translated in Abbott's Kant's Theory of Ethics, p. 47. 1J H. G. Lord: The Abuse of Abstraction in Ethics, in Es- says Philosophical and Psychological in Honor of William James, pp. 37^377- "John Davidson: A Rosary, pp. 77, 82. 14 Maurice Maeterlinck: The Measure of the Hours, trans- lated by A. T. de Mattos, p. 151. The essay in this volume, entitled "Our Anxious Morality," charges rationalism with destroying the romantic and mystical element in life. CHAPTER III 1 A good discussion of the several virtues will be found in Paulsen: Op. cit., Book III. 1 W. H. S. Jones: Greek Morality, p. 50. * Jeremy Taylor: Rules and Exercises of Holy Living, edited by Ezra Abbot, p. 73. 4 Jones: Op. cit., p. 124. NOTES 259 Count Baldesar Castiglione: The Book of the Courtier, translated by Opdycke, p. 250. C/. Hobbes: Leviathan, Chapters XIII, XIV, XV. In Hobbes's account, morality is reduced wholly to the pru- dential economy. H. G. Wells: First and Last Things, p. 82. 8 Castiglione: Op. cit., p. 257. Burke: Op. cit., p. 8. > Epictetus: Discourses, Book III, Chapter XXII, trans- lated by Long, Vol. II, pp. 82, 83. 11 Taylor: Op. cit., p. 7. " Epictetus: Op. cit., Book II, Chapter XXI, translated by Long, Vol. I, p. 229. 3 Cf. Hegel: Philosophy of Right, Third Part, Third Sec- tion, translated by S. W. Dyde; and Philosophy of History, Introduction, translated by J. Sibree. "C/. Plato's Republic, passim, but especially Book IV. Plato makes the state analogous to the individual organism, requiring baser classes that shall permanently supply its lower functions, as well as classes that shall supply its higher func- tions and so participate in its full benefits. "Aristotle: Politics, Book II, Chapter V, translated by Jowett, p. 35. Cf. also Chapter II. " Epictetus: Op. cit., Book II, Chapter XV, translated by Long, Vol. I, p. 189. 17 Sophocles: Antigone, translated by G. H. Palmer, pp. 61, 62. 18 Munro and Sellery: Medieval Civilization, pp. 349-350. 19 Castiglione: Op. cit., p. 261. 20 Quoted from Diog. Laert. by Jones, op. cit., p. 69. For a full account, cf. Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics, Books VIII and IX, translated by Welldon, pp. 245-314. " Walter Bagehot: Physics and Politics, No. V, in the edi- tion of the International Scientific Series, pp. 165-166. Cf. this chapter passim. 22 Matthew Arnold: Culture and Anarchy, p. 100. M Quoted by Jones: Op. cit., p. 128. "Ibid. "Arnold: Op. cit., pp. 25-26. Cf. passim. 26 Euripides: Medea, translated by Gilbert Murray, pp. 67-68. 2<5o NOTES 7 Cf., e. g., Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethics, Book X. Also J. A. Farrer's Paganism and Christianity, passim; and Paulsen, op. tit., Book I, Chapters I-III. 28 Sir Thomas Browne: Religio Medici, edited by J. M. Dent & Co., p. 97. 29 W. James: Pragmatism, p. 230. 30 Browne: Op. cit., pp. 118-119. 81 Ibid., p. no. 32 Castiglione: Op. cit., pp. 304-305. CHAPTER IV 1 The nearest approach to such a philosophy of history is George Santayana's Life of Reason. The reader will find it the best book of reference for this and the following chapter. Cf. also, Samuel Alexander's Moral Order and Progress. 2 Bagehot: Op. cit., No. VI, pp. 208-209. 8 Ibid., p. 161. Nietsche: Op. cit., pp. 65-66. 6 For a general ethical discussion of the function of govern- ment, cf. Santayana: Reason in Society, Chapters III- VIII. 6 Sophocles: Antigone, translated by Palmer, pp. 60, 63-64. 1 1 Samuel, Chapter VIII. 8 Quoted in Taine's Philosophy of Art in Greece, translated by J. Durand, p. 130. "Thucydides: Peloponnesian War, Book II, Chapters 37-40, translated by Jowett, pp. 117-119. 10 Plato: Republic, Book IV, p. 433, translated by Jowett. Burke: Op. cit., p. 45. " For a brief statement of the elements of political science in their application to modern institutions, cf. E. Jenks: A History of Politics. 13 Arnold : The Future of Liberalism, in the volume, Mixed Essays, Irish Essays and Otherf, p. 383. Cf. also the ad- mirable essay on Democracy in the same volume. Plato: Republic, Book I, p. 335, translated by Jowett. 16 Wells: Oj>. cit., pp. 130-131. NOTES 261 CHAPTER V 1 A good account of the meaning of art is to be found in Santayana's Reason in Art, Chapters I-III. 2 For this whole topic of the aesthetic interest, cf. H. R. Marshall's Pleasure, Pain, and ^Esthetics. 8 For an interpretation of painting in terms of the perceptual process, cf. B. Berenson's Florentine Painters of the Renais- sance, pp. 1-16; and North Italian Painters of the Renaissance, pp. I45-I57- 4 The best account of the emotions and instincts is to be found in James's Principles of Psychology, Vol. II, Chapters XXIV, XXV. 6 Walter Pater: The Renaissance, p. 140. Taine: Op. cit., pp. 112, 114-115, and passim. 7 Pater: Op. cit., pp. 129-130; cf. the chapter on Leonardo da Vinci, entire. "Plato: Republic, Book III, p. 398, translated by Jowett. The whole of Books III and X are interesting in this connection. In connection with the general topic of the moral criticism of art, cf. Santayana's Reason in Art, Chapters IX-XI; also Ruskin's Lectures on Art, Lectures II-IV. 10 Aristotle: Nicomachean Ethics, Book X. 11 Cf. the Republic, Book X. "Arthur Benson: Beside Still Waters, pp. 138-139. Cf. also pp. 143-144. 11 Pater: Op. cit., pp. 249, 250; cf. the Conclusion, passim. 14 James: Op. cit., Vol. I, pp. 125-126. Republic; Book X, p. 606, translated by Jowett. 16 Ibid., Book III, p. 399. " Aristotle: Politics, Book VIII, Chapter V, translated by Jowett, p. 252. 18 Taine : The Ideal in Art, translated by J. Durand, pp. 42 sq. Tolsto'y: What is Art? X, translated by Leo Wiener, p. 227. "Arnold: Culture and Anarchy, pp. 37, 38. Cf. Chapter I, passim. " Republic, Book III, p. 401, translation by Jowett. 262 NOTES CHAPTER VI 1 This chapter is reprinted from the Harvard Theological Review for April, 1909. 2 1 have treated this matter more fully in my Approach to Philosophy, Chapters III and IV. At the close of that book the reader will find a selected bibliography of the subject. 'John Henry Newman: Apologia pro Vita Sua, p. 239. The whole book is of interest in this connection. * Munro and Sellery : Mediaval Civilization, p. 69. 1 Fragments of Xenophanes, in Burnet's Early Greek Phil- osophy, p. 115. 6 Lucretius: De Rerum Natura, Book I, lines 1021-1028, translated by Munro. 7 Isaiah 1:15-17. I For a brief account of primitive religion, cf. J. B. Pratt's Psychology of Religious Belief. For a fuller account, cf. F. B. Jevons's Introduction to the History of Religion. 9 Munro and Sellery: Op. cit., pp. 80, 75. 10 A. H. Sayce: Babylonians and Assyrians, p. 253. II A. Wiedemann: Religion of the Ancient Egyptians, p. 250. 11 Cf. H. C. Warren's Buddhism in Translation. "The reader will find a good exposition of mysticism in Royce's World and the Individual, First Series, Lectures II, IV, V. " Cf., e. g., Epictetus: Discourses, Book II, Chapter VIII. 18 Cf. Spinoza's Ethics, passim, translated by Elwes. 16 Cf. Royce's account of Romanticism and Hegel, in his Spirit of Modern Philosophy, Lectures VI, VII. This motive, together with the motive of mysticism, appears in such writ- ings as J. McT. E. McTaggart's Studies in Hegelian Cos- mology, Chapter IX; and A. E. Taylor's Problem of Conduct, Chapter VIII. 17 Thomas Hardy: The Dynasts, Part I, p. 5. 18 John Davidson: A Rosary, p. 88. 19 James: Pragmatism, p. 144. The whole chapter is a brilliant representation of the stand-point of moral idealism. 10 G. K. Chesterton: The Man Who Was Thursday, pp. 278-279. INDEX ACHIEVEMENT, 79, 81, 97. Adaptation, 22. ^Esthetic Interest, definition of, 179; varieties of, iSi/"., 189; moral limitation of, 190; self -sufficiency of, 192; exaggeration of, 192, 195, 198 ff-\ its pervasiveness, 194 ff.; vicariousness of, 197; stimulating character of, 201, 203 ff; liberality of, 2ogff.; in religion, 246 ff. Aimlessness, 94. Anarchism, 107. Aristotle, quoted, 100, 106, 192, 204. Arnold, M., quoted, 108, 109, 112, 164, 211. Art, moral criticism of, Ch. V; its liability to moral criti- cism, 173 ff.; definition of, 177; distinction between industrial and fine, ^1 ff.; emotion in, 182 ff.; repre- sentative function of, 185^., 203 /.; Greek, 185 /.; of Renaissance, 187; censor- ship of, 190; stimulating character of, 201 ff.; truth in, 205 ff.; universality and particularity of, 207 ff.; and liberality, 2ogff.; moral function of, 212. Asceticism, 79, 81, 92 ff. BAGEHOT, quoted, 106, 127, 132. Beauty, and goodness, 172^. Belief, and religion, 216, 220, 228. Benson, A., quoted, 194. Bigotry, 79, 81, 101 ff. Browne, Sir Thomas, quoted, 115, 117, 118. Buddhism, 243. Burke, quoted, 6, 92, 158, 214. Butler, J., quoted, i. CASTIGLIONE, quoted, 89, 90, 119. Character, 97. Chesterton, G. K., 32; quoted, 28, 55, 250. Christianity, 94, in, 114^"., 140, 158, 187, 228, 239, 243. Civilization, 3, 6, 10, 23, 32, 124, 137, 167, 170, 215. See Progress. Competition, 14, 129, 130; relation to morality, 24^. Conscience, 34, 36. See Duty. Conservatism, 144^". Convention, 36, 38 ff. Cosmological, test of relig- ion, 224, 225, 234, 237, 240, 241, 252. Courage, 95. Culture, 211, 255. Chap. V, passim. 263 264 INDEX Cynics, the Greek, gaff., 137. DAVIDSON, J., quoted, 70,248. Democracy, 29, 39; modern idea of, is8/., 163 /. Descartes, quoted, 35. Desire, u. See Interest. Discussion, 106, 132. Dogmatism, 4. Duty, Ch. II, 40, 72; formal- ism and, 76. EGOISM, theoretical, 59 ff.; practical, 79, 81, 101. Emotion, and art, 182 ff., 201 ff. Epictetus, quoted, 93, 96, 100. Equality, 65, 66, i$8ff., 163 ff. Ethics, and history, 124; and religion, 224 /., 233, 240, 241, 252; independence of, 228. See Morality. Euripides, quoted, 114. Evil, n, 15, 84, 86; religious conception of, 243^. 249^. See Good, Vice, Formalism, Materialism. FAITH, 33, 71. Fine Art. See Art. Formalism, 74 ff., 92; and duty, 76, 77; varieties of, 79,81,92,98,107,116,209, 242. Freedom, 36, 107, 164. GOD, 216, 224 ff., 229, 232, 237, 240, 245, 249. Good, basal definition of, 1 1 ff., 44; definition of moral, 15 ff.', relativity of, 45 ff.; relation to beautiful, 212. Good-will, logic of, 67 ff.; virtue of, 79, 81, 113 /., 158- Government, 14; progress in, 148 ff.; Platonic theory of, 148; definition of, 150; ancient forms of, 152 ff.; summary of modern, i6off. Greece, morality of, no, 114; government in, 154^.; art of, 185 ff., 204; religion of, 226. HAPPINESS, 18, 115, n6ff. Hardy, T., quoted, 247. Health, 79, 81, 88 /. Hebrews, government of, 152; religion of, 227, 239. Hedonism, 16. History, meaning of, 123 ff. Hobbes, 89. Honesty, 88. Huxley, theory of morality and nature, 21 ff. IDEALISM, metaphysical, 242 ff.; aesthetic, 246; moral 248 /. Idleness, 94. Imagination, 28, 69, in. Imprudence, 79, 81, 85 /. Incapacity, 79, 81, 83. Individualism, 34^". Injustice, 79, 81, 103. See Justice. Institutions, their necessity, 3, 147. See Government. Intelligence, 79, 81, 82 ff. Interest, definition of, n, 43; organization of, 13, 14, 19; variety of, 16, 17; the INDEX 265 higher, 52; conflict of, 53; objective validity of, 54; private, 57 ff.', the poten- tial, 67, 68, 167; present and ulterior, ^ ff.', econo- mies of, 78; simple, 78, 81, 82jf.; reciprocity of, 78, 81, 8j/.; incorporation of, 78, 8 1, 95 ff.\ fraternity of, 78, 8 1, io$ff.', universal system of, 79, 8 1, ii s/.; and prog- ress, 132; and reform, 137; and revolution, 139; and governmental 48 ff.; the aesthetic, 179; the theoreti- cal, 1 80, 193; varieties of the aesthetic, i8i/. See ^Esthetic Interest. JAMES, W., quoted, 116, 199, 249. Justice, meanings of, 63, 79, 81, 105, 158, 163; logic of, KANT, quoted, 64. LAISSEZ-FAIRE, 108. Liberality, 156; and art, 209. Life, morality as the organi- zation of, Ch. I; versus mechanism, 10, 22; moral- ity one with, 19, 27; method of, 23. Locke, quoted, 34, 35, 62. Logic, of the moral appeal, Ch. II; and the imagination, 69. Lord, H. G., quoted, 69. Lucretius, quoted, 226. MAETERLINCK, quoted, 71. Manners, 121. Materialism, 74^"., 84; vari- eties of, 79, 81, 94, xoi, no, 243. Mechanical Nature, 12; lack of value in, 9, 84; and progress, 130. Mehander, quoted, 88. Metaphysics and religion, 242 /. Moderation, 87. Moore, G. E., critique of egoism, 59 ff. Morality, as the organization of life, Ch. I; the dulness of, i; as verified truth, 7; its universal pertinence, 7 j^".; essential to life, 9, 32; nat- ural genesis of, 9 ff,\ basal definition of, 13; and na- ture, 20 ff.; and competi- tion, 24 ff.', the logic of, Ch. II; rational ground of, 38, 40 ff.; material and formal aspects of, 74 ff., 121; and progress, Ch. IV; and art, Ch. V; and aesthetic standards, 172 ff.; and re- ligion, Ch. VI; and ideal- ism, 248 ff. Mysticism, 116, 244; and art, 208. NATIONALISM, 99. Nature, genesis of morality in, 9 ff.', and morality, 20^".; theories of, in relig- ion, 224, 225, 234, 237, 240. Newman, J. H., quoted, 220. 266 INDEX Nietsche, his conception of morality, i, 5, 6, 20, 29 /., 165. OPTIMISM, 230, 242, 247. Other-worldliness, 115, 243. Overindulgence, 79, 81, 84 ff. PANLOGISM, 244. Pater, quoted, 185, 188; on the aesthetic interest, 196. Patience, 95. Pessimism, 114, 243. Philosophy, of history, 123^.; and religion, 241 ff. Piety, 67, 68, 120, 223, 253, 254- Pity, in, 163. Plato, quoted, 32; individual- ism in, 37; nationalism in, 100; account of disinter- ested activity in, 135 ff.; theory of government in, 148; on art, 190, 193, 202, 212; on religion, 244. Pleasure, its relation to moral- ity, i6ff. Preference, 50; the quantita- tive principle of, S$ff., 127. Progress, moral test of, Ch. IV, 1 27; definition of, 125^".; principles of, 130 ff.; by constructive reform, 134^.; by revolution, 139 ff. Prudence, 79, 81, logical ground of, 43 ff.; limits of, 49, 88, 90, 91, 94; meaning of, 87 ff.; basal character of, 91; in religion, 232. Purpose, logic of, Sojf.J vir- tue of, 95 /. RADICALISM, 145 ff. Rationality, 37, 42, 65; and progress, 134, 142; in government, 152. Reform, 134 jf. Religion, 79, 81; and good-will, 1 13; mysticism in, 117; as an institution, 148; and prog- ress, 170; moral justifica- tion of, Ch. VI; moral necessity of, 214^.; defini- tion of, 215 ff.; quantita- tive tests of, 218 ff.; psy- chological study of, 220; belief in, 216, 220; thera- peutic test of, 222 ff.; superstitious, 232 ff.; prim- itive, 233 ff.\ and ethics, 324/1, 233, 240, 241, 252; cosmological test of, 224, 225, 234, 237, 240, 241, 252; tutelary, 237 /.; As- syrian, 238; Egyptian, 238; Hebrew, 227, 239; phil- osophical, 241 ff.; generic proof of, 252^". See Piety, Good-will, Worship and Christianity. Revolution, definition of, 139; the Christian, 140; the French, 141. Rightness, 18. See Virtue. SATISFACTION, n, 79, 81, 83. Scepticism, 4/., 36, 108. Sentimentalism, 98 ff., and art, 209. Society, Chap. I, passim, 38; prudential basis of, 89; char- acter of modern, 39, 166; progress in, 126, 132; con- INDEX 267 tinuity of, 143; and the aesthetic interest, 195, an. Sophocles, quoted, 102, 151. Sordidness, 79, 81, 94. Spinoza, quoted, 35. Stoics, religion of, 245. See Epictetus. Struggle for existence, 30; its relation to morality, 21 ff.; its relation to progress, 130. Superstition, 232 ff. Survival, 24, 131. TACT, 88. Taine, quoted, 185. Taylor, J., quoted, 86, 94. Temperance, 90. Thrift, 68, 87. Thucydides, quoted, 156. Tolerance, 38, 105, 164. Tolstoy, on art, 207. Truth, of art, 205 /.; of re- ligion, 220 ff. Truthfulness, 96. See Verac- ity. Tyranny, 36, 39, 151 /. VALUE, the simpler terms of, n, 82; definition of moral, 15; varieties of moral, 79, 81. Veracity, 88, 96, 105. Vice, varieties of, 79, 81. See Virtue, Formalism, and Materialism. Virtue, the order of, Ch. Ill; verification of, 73; varie- ties of, 73, 79; classifica- tion of, 73/.; table of, 81. See under particular vir- tues, Prudence, etc. WAR, and morality, 24 ff., 30; the passing of, 28, 162; and progress, 131. Wells, H. G., quoted, 89, 167. Worldliness, 79, 81, 110^". Worship, 122, 232, 235, 237, 240. XENOPHANES, quoted, 226. V RETURN CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT "O^ 202 Main Library OAN PERIOD 1 HOME USE 2 3 l 5 6 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS Renewals and Recharges may be made 4 days prior to the due date. Books may be Renewed by calling 642-3405. DUE AS STAMPED BELOW NOV 09 1330 AUTO. Oioo. f (IAR 3 1 1992 c IRCULATION MOV 1 5 KM lofofh ' uTS rM S")fM| TODficAUG05'< 1 Rl 11992 ORM NO. DD6, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY BERKELEY, CA 94720 U.C. BERKELEY LIBRARIES UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY