IVERS//, J113NVS0# 'TOIW^ V/sa^MNflK^ ^aojnvDJO 'Tc ^.JOJITOJO^ '^fiOJIT •OFCAllFOfr \WEUN1VER%. ^lOS MORAL SCIENCE: A COMPEll^TDIUM OF ETHICS, 1012,0 BY ALBXAXDEE BAW, M. A., AUTHOR or " JTENTAL SCXITNCE : A COMPKNTiltTM OF PSTCHOLOOT ; " SENSES AND THE rVTELLECT ; " "'THE CMOTIOXS AlfD THE "WTLL ; " MANUAL OF RHETORIC ; " PROFESSOR OF LOGIC IN THE UNITERSITT OF ABERDEEN, ETC., ETC., ETC. NEW YORK •:• CINCINNATI •: CHICAGO AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, "by D. APPLETON & COMPANY, Id the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. Printed b? S). Hppleton &. Company *Kcw li>orft, •». S. a. 1UU\ PREFACE. The present Dissertation falls under two divisions. The first division, entitled The Theory of Ethics, gives an account of the questions or points brought into discus- sion, and handles at length the two of greatest prominence, the Ethical Standard, and the Moral Faculty. The second division — on The Ethical Systems— is a full detail of all the systems, ancient and modern, by conjoined Abstract and Summary. With few exceptions, an abstract is made of each author's exposition of his own theory, the fubiess being measured by relative importance ; while, for better comparing and remembering the several theories, they are summarized at the end, on a uniform plan. The connection of Ethics with Psychology is necessarily intimate ; the leading ethical controversies involve a refer- ence to mind, and can be settled only by a more thorough understanding of mental processes. Although the present volume is properly a continuation of the Manual of Psychology and the History of Philosophy, recently published, and contains occasional references to that treatise, it may still be perused as an independent work on the Ethical Doctrines and Systems. A. B. TABLE OF CONTENTS PAET L THE THEORY OF ETHICS. CHAPTER I. PRELIMINARY VIEW OF ETHICAL QUESTIOXS. PAOB I. — The Ethical Standard. Summary of views , 15 [. — Psychological questions. 1. The Moral Faculty. 2. The Freedom of the "Will ; the sources of Disinterested conduct 17 IIL — The BoxuM, Summum Bonum, or Happiness 18 lY. — The Classification of Duties, and the Moral Code 19 V. — Relationship of Ethics to Politics ib. VL — Relation to Theology ib. CHAPTER II. THE ETHICAL STANDARD. 1. Ethics, as a department of Practice, is defined by its End 20 2. The Ethical End is the welfare of society, realized through rules of conduct duly enforced ib. 2. The Rules of Ethics are of two kinds. The first are imposed under a penalty. These are Laws proper, or Obligatory Morality ib. 4. The second are supported by Rewards ; constituting Optional Morality, Merit, Virtue, or Nobleness 21 6. The Ethical End, or Morality, as it has been, is founded partly in Utility, and partly in Sentiment 23 6. The Ethical End is limited, according to the view taken of Moral Government, or Authority : — Distinction between Security and Improvement 24 7. Morality, in its essential parts, is * Eternal and Immutable ; ' in other parts, it varies with custom 26 6 CONTENTS. PAGB 8. Enquiry as to the kind of proof that an Ethical Standard is susceptible of. The ultimate end of action must be referred to individual judgment 26 9. The judgment of Mankind is, with some qualifications, in favour of Happiness as the supreme end of conduct 27 10. The Ethical end that society is tending to, is Happiness, or Utility 28 11. Objections against Utility, I. — Happiness is not the sole aim of human pursuit 3C 12. II, — The consequences of actions are beyond calculation 31 13. Ill, — The principle of Utility contains no motives to seek the happiness of others 32 CHAPTER III. THE MORAL FACULTY. 1. Question whether the Moral Faculty be simple or complex 34 2. Arguments in favour of its being simple and intuitive : — First, Our moral judgments are immediate and instantaneous ib. 3. Secondly, It is a faculty common to all mankind ib. 4. Thirdly, It is different from any other mental phenomenon 35 5. Replies to these Arguments, and Counter-arguments: — First; Immediateness of operatinn is no proof of an innate origin. . . . ib. 6. Secondly, The alleged similarity of men's moral judgments holds only in a limited degree. Answers given by the advocates of an Innate sentiment, to the discrepancies ib. 7. Thirdly, Moral right and wrong is not an indivisible property, but an extensive Code of regulations 37 8. Fourthly, Intuition is not sufficient to settle debated questions. . 38 9. Fifthly, It is possible to analyze the Moral Faculty : — Estimate of the operation of (1) Prudence, (2) Sympathy, and (3) the Emotions generally 39 10. The peculiar attribute of Rightness arises from the institution of Government or Authority 41 11. The speciality of Conscience, or the Moral Sentiment, is identi- fied with our education under Government, or Authority 42 CONTENTS. 7 PAET II. THE ETHICAL SYSTEMS. PAGS i SoKRATES. His subjects were Men and Society. His Ethical Stand- ard indistinctly expressed. Resolved Virtue into Knowledge. Ideal of pursuit — Well-doing. Inculcated self-denying Precepts. Political Theory. Connexion of Ethics v, ith Theology slender .... 46 Plato. Review of the Dialogues containing portions of Ethical Theory: — Alkihiades I. discusses Just and Unjust. Alkihiades IL the Knowledge of Good or Reason. Hippias Minor identifies Vir- tue with Knowledge. Minos (on Law) refers everything to tne decision of an Ideal Wise man. Ladies resolves Courage, and Charmides Tempei-ance, into Intelligence or the supreme science of good and evil. Lysis (on Friendship) gives the Idea of the good as the supreme object of affection. Menon enquires, Is virtue teuch- ahle? and iterates the science of good and evil. Protagoras makes Pleasure the only good, and Pain the only evil, and define.) the science of good and evil as the comparison of pleasures and pains. Gorgias contradicts Protagoras, and sets up Order or Discipline as a final end. Politikus (on Government) repeats the Sokratit ideal of the One Wise man. Philebus makes Good a compound of Pleas- ure with Intelligence, the last predominating. The Republic as- similates Society to an Individual man, and defines Justice as the balance of the constituent parts of each. Timceus repeats the doc- trine that wickedness is disease, and not voluntary. The Laws place all conduct under the prescription of the civil magistrate. Summary of Plato's views 49 The Cynics and the Cyrenaics. Cynic succession. The proper description of the tenets of both schools comes under the Summum Bonum. The Cynic Ideal was the minimum of wants, and their self-denial was compensated by exemption from fear, and by pride of superiority. The Cyrenaic Aristippus : — Was the first to main- tain that the summum bonum is Pleasure and the absence of Pain. Future Pleasures and Pains taken into the account. His Psy- chology of Pleasure and Pain B6 Aristotle. Abstract of the Xicomachean Ethics 63 Book First. The Chief Good, or Highest End of human endeavours. Great differences of opinion as to the nature of Happiness. The Platonic Idea of the Good criticised. The Highest End an end- 8 CONTENTS. PAOl in-itself. Virtue referable to the special work of man ; growing out of his mental capacity. External conditions necessary to vir- tue and happiness. The Soul subdivided into parts, each having its characteristic virtue or excellence 63 Book Second. Definition and classification of the Moral virtues. Virtue the result of Habit. Doctrine of the Mean. The test of virtue to feel no pain. Virtue defined {genus) an acquirement or a State, {differentia) a Mean between extremes. Rules for hitting the Mean 67 Book Third. The Voluntary and Involuntary. Deliberate Prefe- rence. Virtue and vice are voluntary. The virtues in detail : — Courage [Self-sacrifice implied in Courage]. Temperance 71 Book Fourth. Liberality. Magnificence. Magnanimity. Mildness. Good-breeding. Modesty 76 Book Fifth. Justice : — Universal Justice includes all virtue. Par- ticular Justice is of two kinds, Distributive and Corrective , . 79 Book Sixth. Intellectual Excellences, or Virtues of the Intellect. The Rational part of the Soul embraces the Scientific and the De- liberative functions. Science deals with the necessary. Prudence or the Practical Reason ; its aims and requisites. In virtue, good dispositions must be accompanied with Prudence 81 Book Seventh. Gradations of moral strength and moral weakness. Continence and Incontinence 86 Books Eighth and Ninth. Friendship : — Grounds of Friendship. Varieties of Friendship, corresponding to different objects of lik- ing. Friendship between the virtuous is alone perfect. A settled habit, not a mere passion. Equality in friendship. Political friend- ships. Explanation of the family affections. Rule of reciprocity of services. Conflicting obligations. Cessation of friendships. Goodwill. Love felt by benefactors. Self-love. Does the happy man need friends ? 88 Book Tenth. Pleasure : — Theories of Pleasure — Eudoxus, Speu- sippus, Plato. Pleasure is not The Good. Pleasure defined. The pleasures of Intellect. Nature of the Good or Happiness resumed. Perfect happiness found only in the philosophical life ; second to which is the active social life of the good citizen. Happiness of the gods. Transition from Ethics to Politics 92 The Stoics. The succession of Stoical philosophers. Theological Doctrines of the Stoics : — The Divine Government ; human beings must rise to the comprehension of Universal Law; the soul at death absorbed into the divine essence ; argument from Design. Psychology : — Theory of Pleasure and Pain ; theory of the Will. Doctrine of Happiness or the Good : — Pain no evil ; discipline of CONTENTS. » PAOB endurance — Apathy. Theory of Virtue : — Subordination of self to the larger interests ; their view of active Beneficence ; the Stoical paradoxes ; the idea of Duty ; consciousness of Self-im- provement 99 Epicprus. Life and writings. His successors. Virtue and vice referred by him to Pleasures and Pains calculated by Reason. Freedom from Pain the primary object. Regulation of desires. Pleasure good if not leading to pain. Bodily feeling the founda- tion of sensibility. Mental feelings contain memory and hope. The greatest miseries are from the delusions of hope, and from the torments of fear. Fear of Death and Fear of the Gods. Relations with others ; Justice and Friendship — both based on reciprocity. Virtue and Happiness inseparable. Epicureanism the type of all systems grounded on enlightened self-interest Ill The Neo-Platonists. The Moral End to be attained through an intellectual regimen. The soul being debased by its connection with matter, the aim of human action is to regain the spiritual life. The first step is the practice of the cardinal virtues : the next the purifying virtues. Happiness is the undisturbed life of contem plation. Correspondence of the Ethical, with the Metaphysical scheme 121 Scholastic Ethics. Abaelard : — Lays great stress on the subjec- tive element in morality ; highest human good, love to God ; actions judged by intention, and intention by conscience. St. Bernard : — Two degrees of virtue. Humanity and Lovo. John of Salisbury: — Combines philosophy and theology ; doctrine of Happiness ; the lower and higher desires. Alexander of Hales. Bonaventura. Albertus Magnus. Aquinas: — Aristotelian mode of enquiry as to the end ; God the highest good ; true happiness lies in the self- sufficing theoretic intelligence ; virtue ; division of the virtues .... 123 HoBBES. (Abstract of the Ethical part of Leviathan). Constituents of man's nature. The Good. Pleasure. The simple passions. Theory of the Will. Good and evil. Conscience. Virtue. Posi- tion of Ethics in the Sciences. Power, Worth, Dignity. Happi- ness a perpetual progress ; consequences of the restlessness of desire. Natural state of mankind ; a state of enmity and war. Necessity of articles of peace, called Laws of Nature. Law defined. Rights ; Renunciation of rights ; Contract ; Merit. Jus- tice. Laws of Gratitude, Complaisance, Pardon upon repentance. Laws against Cruelty, Contumely, Pride, Arrogance. Laws of Nature, how fa." binding. Summary 129 Cumberland. Standard of Moral Good summed up in Benevolence. The moral faculty is the Reason, apprehending the Nature of 10 CONTENTS. PAOB Things. Innate Ideas an insufficient foundation. Will. Dis- interested action. Happiness. Moral Code, the common good of all rational beings. Obligations in respect of giving and of receiving. Politics. Religion 142 CuDWORTH. Moi-al Good and Evil cannot be arbitrary. The mind has a power of Intellection, above Sense, for aiming at the eternal and immutable verities 146 Clarke. The eternal Fitness and Unfitness of Things determine Justice, Equity, Goodness and Truth, and lay corresponding obli- gations upon reasonable creatures. The sanction of Rewards and Punishments secondary and additional. Our Duties 148 WoLL ASTON. Resolves good and evil into Truth and Falsehood .... 152 Locke. Arguments against Innate Practical Principles. Freedom of the Will. Moral Rules grounded in law ib. Butler. Characteristics of our Moral Perceptions. Disinterested Benevolence a fact of our constitutions. Our passions and affec- tions do not aim at self as their immediate end. The Supremacy of Conscience established from our moral nature. Meanings of Nature. Benevolence not ultimately at variance with Self- Love 159 Hutcheson. — Primary feelings of the mind. Finer perceptions — Beauty, Sympathy, the Moral Sense, Social feelings ; the benevo- lent order of the world suggesting Natural Religion. Order or subordination of the feelincrs as Motives ; position of Benevolence. The Moral Faculty distinct and independent. Confirmation of the doctrine from the Sense of Honour. Happiness. The tempers and characters bearing on happiness. Duties to God. Circumstances aflfecting the moral good or evil of actions. Rights and Laws. ... 166 Mandeville. Virtue supported solely by self-interest. Compassion resolvable into self. Pride an important source of moral virtue. Private vices, public benefits. Origin of Society 179 Hume. Question whether Reason or Sentiment be the foundation of morals. The esteem for Benevolence shows that Utility enters into virtue. Proofs that Justice is founded solely on Utility. Political Society has utility for its end. The Laws. Why Utility pleases. Qualities useful to ourselves. Qualities agreeable (1) to ourselves, and (2) to others. Obligation. The respective share of Reason and of Sentiment in moral approbation. Benevolence not resolvable into Self-Love 184 Price. The distinctions of Right and Wrong are perceived by the Understanding. The Beauty and Deformity of Actions. The feelings have some part in our moral discrimination. Self-Love and Benevolence. Good and ill Desert. Obligation. Divisions of CONTENTS. 11 PAGE Virtue. Intention as an element in virtuous action. Estimate of degrees of Virtue and Vice 186 Adam Smith. Illustration of the workings of Sympathy. Mutual sympathy. The Amiable and the Respectable Virtues. How far the several passions are consistent with Propriety. Influences of prosperity and adversity on moral judgments. The Sense of Merit and Demerit. Self-approbation. Love of Praise and of Praise- worthiness. Influence and authority of Conscience. Self-par- tiality ; corrected by the use of General Rules. Connexion of Utility with Moral Approbation. Influence of Custom on the Moral Sentiments. Character of Virtue. Self-command. Opinion regarding the theory of the Moral Sense 205 Hakilet. Account of Disinterestedness. The Moral Sense a pro- duct of Association 219 Ferguson. (Xote) 219 Reid. Duty not to be resolved into Interest. Conscience an ori- ginal power of the mind. Axiomatic first principles of Morals. Objections to the theory of Utility ib, Stewart. The Moral Faculty an original power. Criticism of opposing views. Moral Obligation : connexion with Religion. Duties. Happiness: classification of pleasures 225 Brown. Moral approbation a simple emotion of the mind. Univer- sality of moral distinctions. Objections to the theory of Utility. Disinterested sentiment 232 Paley. The Moral Sense not int'.rtive. Happiness. Virtue : its definition. Moral Obligation resolved into the command of God. Utility a criterion of the Divine Will. Utility requires us to con- sider ^rcnera? consequences. Rights. Duties 237 Bextham. Utility the sole foundation of Morals. Principles adverse to Utility. The Four Sanctions of Right. Comparative estimate of Pleasures and Pains. Classification of Pleasures and Pains. Merit and Demerit. Pleasures and pains viewed as Motives : some motives are Social or tutelary, others Dissocial or Self-regarding. Dispositions. The consequences of a mischievous act. Punish- ment. Private Ethics (Prudence) and Legislation distinguished; their respective spheres 24$ Mackintosh. Universality of Moral Distinctions. Antithesis or Reason and Passion. It is not virtuous acts but virtuous disposi- tions that outweigh the pains of self-sacrifice. The moral senti- ments have for their objects Dispositions. Utility. Development of Conscience through Association ; the constituents are Gratitude, Sympathy, Resentment and Shame, together with Education. Re- ligion must presuppose Morality. Objections to Utility criticised. 12 CONTENTS. FAGB Duties to ourselves, an improper expression. Reference of moral sentiments to the Will 256 James Mill. Primary constituents of the Moral Faculty — pleasu- rable and painful sensations. The Causes of these sensations. The Ideas of them, and of their causes. Hope, Fear; Love, Joy; Hatred, Aversion. Remote causes of pleasures and pains- Wealth, Power, Dignity, and their opposites. Affections towards our fellow-creatures — Friendship, Kindness, &c. Motives. Dis- positions. Applications to the virtue of Prudence. Justice — by what motives supported. Beneficence. Importance in moral training, of Praise and Blame, and their associations ; the Moral Sanction. Derivation of Disinterested Feelings 265 Austin. Laws defined and classified. The Divine Laws ; how are we to know the Divine Will ? Utility the sole criterion. Objec- tions to Utility. Criticism of the theory of a Moral Sense. Pre- vailing misconceptions as to Utility. Nature of Law resumed and illustrated. Impropriety of the term * law ' as applied to the ope- rations of Nature 2*71 Whewell. Opposing schemes of Morality. Proposal to reconcile them. There are some actions Universally approved. A Supreme Rule of Right to be arrived at by combining partial rules : these are obtained from the nature of our faculties. The rule of Speech is Truth ; Property supposes Justice ; the Affections indicate Hu- manity. It is a self-evident maxim that the Lower parts of our nature are governed by the Higher. Classification of Springs of Action. Disinterestedness. Classific, in point of fact, equality is a matter of institution. The children of the same parent are, in certain circumstances, regarded as unequal by the law ; and justice consists in respecting this inequality. The virtue of Self-denial, is one that receives the commen- dation of society, and stands high in the morality of reward, bitill, it is a means to an end. The operation of the associat- ing principle tends to raise it above this point to the rank of a final end. And there is an ascetic scheme of life that proceeds upon this supposition ; but the generality of mankind, in practice, if not always in theory, disavow it. (4) It is often affirmed by those that regard virtue, and not happiness, as the end, that the two coincide in the long run. Now, not to dwell upon the very serious doubts as to the matter of fact, a universal coincidence without causal connexion is so rare as to be in the last degree improbable. A fiction of this sort was contrived by Leibnitz, under the title of * pre- established harmony ; ' but, among the facts of the universe, there are only one or two cases known to investigation. 12. II. — It is objected to Utility as the Standard, that the bearings of conduct on general happiness are too numerous to be calculated ; and that even where the cal- culation is possible, people have seldom time to make it. (1) It is answered, that the primary moral duties refer to conduct where the consequences are evident and sure. The disregard of Justice and Truth would to an absolute certainty 32 THE ETHICAL STANDARD. ^ bring about a state of confusion and ruin ; their observance, in any high degree, contributes to raise the standard of well-being. In other cases, the calculation is not easy, from the num- ber of opposing considerations. For example, there are two sides to the question, Is dissent morally wrong ? in other words. Ought all opinions to be tolerated ? But if we venture to decide such a question, without the balancing or calculating process, we must follow blindfold the dictates of one or other of the two opposing sentiments, — Love of Power and Love of Liberty. It is not necessary that we should go through the process of calculation every time we have occasion to perform a moral act. The calculations have already been performed for all the leading duties, and we have only to apply the maxims to the cases as they arise. 13. IIL — The principle of Utility, it is said, contains no motives to seek the Happiness of others ; it is essen- tially a form of Self-Love. The averment is that Utility is a sufficient motive to pur- sue our own happiness, and the happiness of others as a means to our own ; but it does not afford any purely disinterested impulses ; it is a Selfish theory after all. Now, as Utility is, by profession, a benevolent and not a selfish theory, either such profession is insincere, or there must be an obstruction in carrying it out. That the supporters of the theory are insincere, no one has a right to affirm. The only question then is, what are the difficulties opposed by this theory, and not present in other theories (the Moral Sense, for example) to benevolent impulses on the part of individuals ? Let us view the objection first as regards the Morality of Obligation, or the duties that bind society together. Of these duties, only a small number aim at positive beneficence ; they are either Protective of one man against another, or they enforce Reciprocity, which is another name for Justice. The chief exception is the requiring of a minimum of charity towards the needy. This department of duty is maintained by the force of a certain mixture of prudential and of beneficent considerations, on the part of the majority, and by prudence (as fear of punish- ment) on the part of the minority. But there does not appear to be anything in our professedly Benevolent Theory of Morals to interfere with the small portion of disinterested impulse that OBJECTIONS TO THE PRINCIPLE OF UTILITY. 33 IS bound up with prudential regards, in the total of motives con- cerned i« the morahty of social order called the primary or obligatory morality. Let us, in the next place, view the objection as regards Optional Morality, where positive beneficence has full play. The principal motive in this department is Reward, in the shape either of benefits or of approbation. Now, there is nothing to hinder the supporters of the standard of Utility from joining in the rewards or commendations bestowed on works of charity and beneficence. Again, there is, in the constitution of the mind, a motive superior to reward, namely, Sympathy proper, or the purely Disinterested impulse to alleviate the pains and advance the pleasures of others. This part of the mind is wholly umelji-sh ; it needs no other prompting than the fact that some one is in pain, or may be made hapj)ier by something within the power ot the agent. The objectors need to be reminded that Obligatory Morality, which works by punishment, creates a purely selfish motive ; that Optional Morality, in so far as stimulated by Rewaixi, is also selfish ; and that the only source of purely disinterested impulses is in the unprompted Sympathy of the individual mind. If such sympathies exist, and if nothing is done to uproot or paralyze them, they will urge men to do good to others, irrespective of all theories. Good done from any other source or mr-tive is necessarily self-seeking. It is a common remark, with reference to the sanctions of a future life, that they create purely self-regarding motives. Any pro- posal to increase disinterested action by moral obligation con- tains a self-contradiction; it is suicidal. The rich may be made to give half their wealth to the poor; but in as far as they are made to do it, they are not benevolent. Law distrusts generosity and supersedes it. If a man is expected to regard the happiness of others as an end in itself, and not as means to his own happiness, he must be left to his own impulses : ' the quality of mercy is not strained.^ The advocates of Utility may observe non-interference as well as others. 34 THE MORAL FACULTY. CHAPTER III. THE MORAL FACULTY. 1. The chief question in the Psychology of Ethics is whether the Moral Faculty, or Conscience, be a simple or a complex fact of the mind. Practically, it would seem of little importance in what way the moral faculty originated, except with a view to teach us how it m.ay be best strengthened when it happens to be weak. Still, a very great importance has been attached to the view, that it is simple and innate; the supposition being that a higher authority thereby belongs to it. If it arises from mere education, it depends on the teacher for the time being ; if it exists prior to all education, it seems to be the voice of universal nature or of God. 2. In favour of the simple and intuitive character of Moral Sentiment, it is argued : — First, That our judgments of right and wrong are im- mediate and instantaneous. On almost all occasions, we are ready at once to pronounce an action right or wrong. We do not need to deliberate or enquire, or to canvass reasons and considerations for and against, in order to declare a murder, a theft, or a lie to be wrong. We are fully armed with the power of deciding all such questions; we do not hesitate, like a person that has to consult a variety of different faculties or interests. Just as we pronounce at once whether the day is light or dark, hot or cold; whether a weight is light or heavy; — we are able to say whether an action is morally right or the opposite. 3. Secondly, It is a faculty or power belonging to all mankind. This was expressed by Cicero, in a famous passage, often j quoted with approbation, by the supporters of innate moral | distinctions. ' There is one true and original law conformable ' to reason and to nature, diffused over all, invariable, eternal, which calls to duty and deters from injustice, &c.' IS THE MORAL FACULTY AN INTUITION? 35 4. Thhdly, Moral Sentiment is said to be radically- different in its nature from any other fact or phenomenon of the mind. The peculiar state of discriminating right and wrong, involving approbation and disapprobation, is considered to be entirely unlike any other mental element ; and, if so, we are precluded from resolving or analyzing it into simpler modes of feeling, willing, or thinking. We have many feeHngs that urge us to act and abstain from acting ; but the prompting of conscience has something peculiar to itself, which has been expressed by the terms right- ness, authority, supremacy. Other motives, — hunger, curi- osity, benevolence, and so on, — have might, this has right. So, the Intellect has many occasions for putting forth its aptitudes of discriminating, identifying, remembering ; but the operation of discerning right and wrong is supposed to be a unique employment of those functions. 5. In reply to these arguments, and in support of the view that the Moral Faculty is complex and derived, the following considerations are urged : — First, The Immediateness of a judgment, is no proof of its being innate; long practice or familiarity has the same effect. In proportion as we are habituated to any subject, or any class of operations, our decisions are rapid and independent of deliberation. An expert geometer sees at a glance whether a demonstration is correct. In extempore speech, a person has to perform every moment a series of judgments as to the suitability of words to meaning, to grammar, to taste, to effect upon an audience. An old soldier knows in an instant, with- out thought or deliberation, whether a position is sufficiently guarded. There is no greater rapidity in the judgments of right and wrong, than in these acquired professional judgments. Moreover, the decisions of conscience are quick only in the simpler cases. It happens not unfrequently that difficult and protracted deliberations are necessary to a moral judgment. 6. Secondly, The alleged similarity of men's moral judgments in all countries and times holds only to a limited degree. The very great differences among different nations, as to what constitutes right and wrong, are too numerous, striking, 36 THE MOEAL FACULTY. and serious, not to have been often brought forward in Ethical controversy. Robbery and murder are legalized in whole nations. Macaulay's picture of tbe Highland Chief of former days is not singular in the experience of mankind. * His own vassals, indeed, were few in number, but he came of the best blood of the Highlands. He kept up a close connexion with his more powerful kinsmen; nor did they like him the less because he was a robber ; for he never robbed them ; and that robbery, merely as robbery, was a wicked and disgraceful act, had never entered into the mind of any Celtic chief.' Various answers have been given by the advocates of innate morality to these serious discrepancies. (1) It is maintained that savage or uncultivated nations are not a fair criterion of mankind generally : that as men become more civilized, they approximate to unity of moral sentiment ; and what civilized men agree in, is alone to be taken as the judgment of the race. Now, this argument would have great weight, in any dis- cussion as to what is good, useful, expedient, or what is in accordance with the cultivated reason or intelligence of man- kind ; because civilization consists in the exercise of men's intellectual faculties to improve their condition. But in a controversy as to w^hat is given us by nature, — what we possess independently of intelligent search and experience, — the appeal to civilization does not apply. What civilized men agree upon among themselves, as opposed to savages, is likely to be the reverse of a natural instinct ; in other words, something suggested by reason and experience. In the next place, counting only civilized races, that is, including the chief European, American, and Asiatic peoples of the present day, and the Greeks and Romans of the ancient world, we still hnd disparities on what are deemed by us fundamental points of moral right and wrong. Polygamy is regarded as right in Turkey, India, and China, and as wrong in England. Marriages that we pronounce incestuous were legitimate in ancient times. The views entertained by Plato and Aristotle as to the intercourse of the sexes are now looked upon with abhorrence. (2) It has been replied that, although men differ greatly in what they consider right and wrong, they all agree in possessing some notion of right and wrong. No people are entirely devoid of moral judgments. But this is to surrender the only position of any real im- portance. The simple and underived character of the moral MORALITY IS A CODE. 3Y focnlty is maintained because of the superior authority at- tached to what is natural, as opposed to what is merely con- ventional. But if nothing be natural but the mere fact of right and wrong, while all the details, which alone have any value, are settled by convention and custom, we are as much at sea on one system as on the other. (3) It is fully admitted, being, indeed, impossible to deny, that education must concur with natural impulses in making up the moral sentiment. No human being, abandoned en- tirely to native promptings, is ever found to manifest a sense of right and wrong. As a general rule, the strength of the conscience depends on the care bestowed on its cultivacion. Although we have had to recognize primitive distinctions among men as to the readiness to take on moral training, still, the better the training, the stronger will be the conscientious determinations. But this admission has the effect of reducing the part performed by nature to a small and uncertain amount. Even if there were native preferences, they might be completely overborne and reversed by an assiduous education. The difference made by inculcation is so great, that it practically amounts to everything. A voice so feeble as to be overpowered by foreign elements would do no credit to nature. 7. Thirdly, Moral right and wrong is not so much a simple, indivisible property, as an extensive Code of regu- lations, which cannot even be understood without a cer- tain maturity of the intelligence. It is not possible to sum up the whole field of moral right and wrong, so as to bring it within the scope of a single limited perception, like the perception of resistance, or of colour. In regard to some of the alleged intuitions at the foundation of oui* knowledge, as for example time and space, there is a comparative simplicity and unity, rendering their innate origin less disputable. No such simplicity can be assigned in the region of duty. After the subject of morals has been studied in the detail, it has, indeed, been found practicable to comprise the whole, by a kind of generalization, in one comprehensive recognition of regard to our fellows. But, in the first place, this is far from a primitive or an intuitive suggestion of the mind. It came at a late stage of human history, and is even regarded as a part of E/Cvelation. In the second place, this high generality must be accompanied with detailed applications to particular cases 38 THE MORAL FACULTY. and circumstances. Life is full of conflicting demands, and there must be special rules to adjust these various demands. We have to be told that country is greater than family ; that temporary interests are to succumb to more enduring, and so on. Supposing the Love of our Neighbour to unfold in detail, ils it expresses in sum, the whole of morality, this is only another name for our Sympathetic, Benevolent, or Disin- terested regards, into which therefore Conscience would be resolved, as it was by Hume. But Morals is properly considered as a wide-ranging science, having a variety of heads full of difficulty, and de- manding minute consideration. The subject of Justice, has nothing simple but the abstract statement — giving each one their due ; before that can be applied, we must ascertain what is each person's due, which introduces complex questions of relative merit, far transcending the sphere of intuition. If any part of Morals had the simplicity of an instinct, it would be i-egard to Truth. The difference between truth and falsehood might almost be regarded as a primitive suscepti- bility, like the difference between light and dark, between resist- ance and non-resistance. That each person should say what is, instead of what is not, may well seem a primitive and natural impulse. In circumstances of perfect indifference, this would be the obvious and usual course of conduct ; being, like the straight line, the shortest distance between two points. Let a motive arise, however, in favour of the lie, and there is nothing to insure the truth. Reference must be made to other parts of the mind, from which counter-motives may be furnished ; and the intuition in favour of Truth, not being able to support itself, has to repose on the general foundation of all virtue, the instituted recognition of the claims of others. 8. Fourthly, Intuition is incapable of settling the de- bated questions of Practical Morality. If we recall some of the great questions of practical life that have divided the opinions of mankind, we shall find that mere Intuition is helpless to decide them. The toleration of heretical opinions has been a greatly con- tested point. Our feelings are arrayed on both sides ; and there is no prompting of nature to arbitrate between the o])posing impulses. If the advance of civilization has tended to liberty, it has been owing partly to greater enlightenment, and partly to the successful struggles of dissent in the war with established opinion. ANALYSIS OF THE MORAL FACULTY. 39 The qnestions relating to marriage are wholly niidecideable by intuition. The natural impulses are for unlimited co-habi- tation. The degTee of restraint to bo put upon this tendency is not indicated by any sentiment that can be discovered in the mind. The case is very peculiar. In theft and murder, the immediate consequences are injnry to some one ; in sexual indulgence, the immediate result is agreeable to all concerned. The evils are traceable only in remote consequences, which in- tuition can know nothing of. It is not to be wondered, there- fore, that nations, even highly civilized, have differed widely in their marriage institutions ; agreeing only in the propriety of adopting and enforcing some regulations. So essentially has this matter been bound up with the moral code of every society, that a proposed criterion of morality unable to grapple with it, would be discarded as worthless. Yet there is no in- tuitive sentiment that can be of any avail in the question of mai'riage with a deceased wife's sister. 9. Fifthly, It is practicable to analyze or resolve the Moral Faculty ; and, in so doing, to explain, both its pecu- liar property, and the similarity of moral judgments so far as existing among men. We begin by estimating the operation of (1) Prudence, (2) Sympathy, and (3) the Emotions generally. The inducements to perform a moral act, as, for example, the tulhlling of a bargain, — are plainly seen to be of various kinds. (1) Prudence, or Self-interest, has obviously much to do with the moral conduct. Postponing for the present the con- sideration of Punishment, which is one mode of appeal to the prudential regards, we can trace the workings of self-interest on many occasions wherein men act right. To fulfil a bargain is, in the great majority of cases, for the advantage of the agent ; if he fails to perform his part, others may do the same to him. Our self-interest may look still farther. We may readily discover that if we set an example of injustice, it may be taken up and repeated to such a degree that we can count upon nothing ; social security comes to an end, and individual existence, even if possible, would cease to be desirable. A yet higher view of self-interest informs us, that by per- forming all our obligations to our fellows, we not only attain reciprocal performance, but generate mutual affections and sympathies, which greatly augment the happiness of life. 40 THE MORAL FACULTY. (2) Sympathy, or Fellow-feeling, tlie source of onr dis- interested actions, must next be taken into the account. It is a consequence of oar sympathetic endowment that we revolt from inflicting pain on another, and even forego a certain satisfaction to self rather than be the occasion of suffering to a fellow creature. Moved thus, we perform many obligations on the ground of the misery (not our own) accruing from their neglect. A considerable portion of human virtue spnngs directly from this source. If purely disinterested tendencies were withdrawn from the breast, the whole existence of humanity would be changed. Society might not be impossible ; there are races where mutual sympathy barely exists : but the ful- filment of obligations, if always dependent on a sense of self-interest, would fail where that was not apparent. On the other hand, if we were on all occasions touched with the un- happiness to others immediately and remotely springing from our conduct — if sympathy were perfect and unfailing — we could hardly ever omit doing what was right. (3) Our several Emotions or Passions may co-operate with Prudence and with Sympathy in a way to make both the one and the other more ef&cacious. Prudence, in the shape of aversion to pain, is rendered more acute when the pain is accompanied with Fear. The perturbation of fear rises up as a deterring motive when dangers loom in the distance. One powerful check to the commission of injury is the retaliation of the sufferer, which is a danger of the vague and illimitable kind, calculated to create alarm. Anger, or Resentment, also enters, in various ways, into our moral impulses. In one shape it has just been noticed. In concurrence with Self-interest and Sympathy, it heightens the feeling of reprobation against wrong-doers. The Tender Emotion, and the Affections, uphold us in the performance of our duties to others, being an additional safe- guard against injury to the objects of the feelings. It has already been shown how these emotions, while tending to coalesce w^ith Sympathy proper, are yet distinguished from it. The -Esthetic Emotions have important bearings upon Ethical Sentiment. As a whole, they are favourable to human virtue, being non-exclusive pleasures. They, how- ever, give a bias to the formation of moral rules, and pervert the proper test of right and wrong in a manner to be after- wards explained. BIGHTNESS IMPLIES GOVERNMENT OR AUTHORITY. 41 10. Althongli Prudence and Sympathy, and the various Emotions named, are powerful inducements to what is right in action, and although, without these, right would not prevail among mankind, yet they do not stamp the feculiar attrilmte of Eightness. For this, we must refer to the institution of Government, or Authority. Although the force of these various motives on the side of right is all-powerful and essential, so much so, that without them morality would be impossible, they do not, of them- selves, impart the character of a moral act. We do not always feel that, because we have neglected our interest or violated our sympathies, we have on that account done wrong. The criterion of Tightness in particular cases is something dijQTerent. The reasons are apparent. For although prudence, as regards self, and sympathy or fellow-feeling, as regards others, would comprehend all the interests of mankind — everything that morality can desire to accomplish — neverthe- less, the acting out of these impulses by each individual at random would not suffice for the exigencies of human lifie. They must be regulated, directed, reconciled by society at large; each person must be made to work upon the same plan as every other person. This leads to the institution of Government and Authority, with the correlatives of Law, Obligation, and Punishment. Our natural impulses for good are now directed into an artificial channel, and it is no longer optional whether they shall fall into that channel. The nature of the case requires all to conform alike to the general arrangements, and whoever is not sufficiently urged by the natural motives, is brought under the spur of a new kind of prudential motive — Punishment. Government, Authority, Law, Obhgation, Punishment, a,re all implicated in the same great Institution of Society, to which Morality owes its chief foundation, and the Moral Sentiment its special attribute. Morality is not Prudence, nor Benevo- lence, in their primitive or spontaneous manifestations ; it is the systematic codification of prudential and benevolent actions, rendered obligatory by what is termed penalties or Punishment ; an entirely distinct motive, artificially framed by human society, but made so familiar to every member of Bociety as to be a second nature. None are allowed to be pru- dential or sympathizing in their own way. Parents are com- pelled to nourish their own children ; servants to obey their 4:2 THE MORAL FACULTY. own masters, to the neglect of other regards ; all citizens have to abide by the awards of authority ; bargains are to be ful- filled according to a prescribed form and letter ; truth is to be spoken on certain definite occasions, and not on others. In a formed society, the very best impulses of nature fail to guide the citizen's actions. No doubt there ought to be a general coincidence between what Prudence and S^-mpathy would dictate, and what Law dictates; but the precise adjustment is a matter of institution. A moral act is not merely an act tend* iug to reconcile the good of the agent with the good of the whole society ; it is an act, prescribed by the social authority, and rendered obligatory upon every citizen. Its morality is constituted by its authoritative prescription, and not by its fulfilling the primary ends of the social institution. A bad law is still a law ; an ill-judged moral precept is still a moral precept, felt as such by every loyal citizen. 11. It may be proved, by such evidence as the case admits of, that the peculiarity of the Moral Sentiment, or Conscience, is identified with our education under govern- ment, or Authority. Conscience is described by such terms as moral approba- tion and disapprobation ; and involves, when highly developed, a peculiar and unmistakeable revulsion of mind at what is wrong, and a strong resentment towards the wrong-doer, which become Remorse, in the case of self. It is capable of being proved, that there is nothing natural or primitive in these feelings, except in so far as the case hap- pens to concur with the dictates of Self-interest, or Sympathy, aided by the Emotions formerly specified. Any action that is hostile to our interest, excites a form of disapprobation, such as belongs to wounded self-interest ; and any action that puts another to pain may so affect our natural sympathy as to be disapproved, and resented on that ground. These natural or inborn feelings are alwa^^s liable to coincide with moral right and wrong, although they are not its criterion or measure in the mind of each individual. But in those cases where an unusually strong feeling of moral disapprobation is awakened, there is apt to be a concurrence of the primitive motives of self, and of fellow-feeling; and it is the ideal of good law, and good morality, to coincide with a certain well-proportioned adjustment of the Prudential and the Sympathetic regards of the individual The requisite allowance being made for the natural im- pulses, we must now adduce the facts, showing that the cha- CONSCIENCE AN EDUCATION UNDER AUTHORITY. 43 raoteristic of the Moral Sense is an education under Law, or Authority, through the instrumentality of Punishment. (1) It is a fact that human beings living in society are placed under discipline, accompanied by punishment. Cer- tain actions are forbidden, and the doers of them are sub- jected to some painful infliction ; which is increased in severity if they are persisted in. Now, what would be the natural consequence of such a system, under the known hiws oi feeling, will, and intellect ? Would not an action that always brings down punishment be associated with the pain and the dread of punishment? Such an association is inevitably formed, and becomes at least a part, and a very important part, of the sense of duty ; nay, it would of itself, after a certain amount of repetition, be adequate to restrain for ever the performance of the action, thus attaining the end of morality. There may be various ways of evoking and forming the moral sentiment, but the one waymost commonly trusted to, and never altogether dispensed with, is the associating of pain, that is, punishment, with the actions that are disallowed. Punish- ment is held out as the consequence of performing certain actions ; every individual is made to taste of it ; its infliction is one of the most familiar occurrences of every-day life. Consequently, whatever else may be present in the moral sentiment, this fact of the connexion of pain with forbidden actions must enter into it with an overpowering prominence. Any natural or primitive impulse in the direction of duty must be very marked and apparent, in order to divide with this communicated bias the direction of our conduct. It is for the supporters of innate distinctions to point out any concurring impetus (apa.rt from the Prudential and Sympa- thetic regards) sufiiciently important to cast these powerful associations into a secondary or subordinate position. By a familiar effect of Contiguous Association, the dread c f punishment clothes the forbidden act with a feeling of aversion, which in the end persists of its own accord, and without reference to the punishment. Actions that have long been connected in the mind with pains and penalties, come to be contemplated with a disinterested repugnance ; they seem to give pain on their own account. This is a parallel, from the side of pain, of the acquired attachment to money. Now, when, by such transference, a self-subsisting sentiment of aversion has been created, the conscience seems to be detached from all external sanctions, and to possess an isolated footing 44: THE MORAL FACULTY. in the mind. It has passed through the stage of reference to authority, and has become a law to itself. But no conscience ever arrives at the independent standing, without first existing in the reflected and dependent stage. We must never omit from the composition of the Con- science the primary impulses of Self-interest and Sympathy, which in minds strongly alive to one or other, always count for a powerful element in human conduct, although for reasons already stated, not the strictly m^oral element, so far as the individual is concerned. They are adopted, more or less, by the authority imposing the moral code ; and when the two sources coincide, the stream is all the stronger. (2) Where moral training is omitted or greatly neglected, there is an absence of security for vii'tuous conduct. In no civilized community is moral discipline entirely wanting. Although children may be neglected by their parents, they come at last under the discipline of the law and the public. They cannot be exempted from the associations of punishment with wrong. But when these associations have not been early and sedulously formed, in the family, in the school, and in the workshop, the moral sentiment is left in a feeble condition. There still remain the force of the law and of public opinion, the examples of public punishment, and the reprobation of guilt. Every member of the community must witness daily the degraded condition of the viciously disposed, and the prosperity following on respect for the law. No human being escapes from thus contracting moral impressions to a very large amount. (3) Whenever an action is associated with Disapprobation and Punishment, there grows up, in reference to it, a state of mind undistinguishable from Moral Sentiment. There are many instances where individuals are enjoined to a course of conduct wholly indifferent with regard to universal morality, as in the regulations of societies formed for special purposes. Each member of the society has to conform to these regulations, under pain of forfeiting all the benefits of the society, and of perhaps incurring positive evils. The code of honour among gentlemen is an example of these artificial impositions. It is not to be supposed that there should be an innate sentiment to perform actions having nothing to do with moral right and wrong ; yet the disapprobation and the remorse following on a breach of the code of honour, will often be greater than what follows a breach of the moral law. The constant habit of regarding with dread the consequences of DISAPPROBATION CREATES A MORAL SENTIMENT. 45 violating any of the rules, simulates a moral sentiment, on a subject unconnected witli morality properly so called. The arbitrary ceremonial customs of nations, with refer- ence to such points as ablutions, clothing, eating and abstin- ence from meats, — when rendered obligatory by the force of penalties, occupy exactly the same place in the mind as the principles of moral right and wrong. The same form of dread attaches to the consequences of neglect ; the same remorse is felt by the individual offender. The exposure of the naked person is as much abhorred as telling a lie. The Turkish woman exposing her face, is no less conscience-smitten than if she murdered her child. There is no act, however trivial, that cannot be raised to the position of a moral act, by the imperative of society. Still more sti iking is the growth of a moral sentiment in connexion with such usages as the Hindoo suttee. It is known that the Hindoo widow, it' prevented from burning herself with her husband's corpse, often feels all the pangs of remorse, and leads a life of misery and self-humiliation. The habitual in- culcation of this duty by society, the penalty of disgrace attached to its omission, operate to implant a sentiment in every respect analogous to the strongest moral sentitnent. PAET 11. THE ETHICAL SYSTEMS. The first important name in Ancient Ethical Philosophy is SOKRATES. [469-399 B.C.] For the views of Sokrates, as well as his method,* we have first the Memokabilia of Xenophon, and next such of the Platonic Compositions, as are judged, by comparison with the MemorabiHa, to keep closest to the real Sokrates. Ot these, the chief are the Apology of Sokrates, the Kriton and the Phjedgn. The ' Memorabilia ' was composed by Xenophon, expressly to vindicate Sokrates against the accusations and unfavourable opinious that led to his execution. The ' Apology ' is Plato's account of his method, and also sets forth his moral attitude. The ' Kriton ' describes a conversation between him and his friend Kriton, in prison, two days bel'ore his death, wherein, in reply to the entreaties of his friends generally that he should make his escape from prison, he declares his determi- nation to abide by the laws of the Athenian State. Inasmuch as, in the Apology, he had seemed to set his private convictions above the public authority, he here presents another side of his character. The ' Pha3don ' contains the conversation on * the Immortality of the Soul ' just before his execution. The Ethical bearings of the Philosophical method, the Doctrines, and the Life of Sokrates. are these : — The direction he gave to philosophical enquiry, was ex- pressed in the saying that he brought ' Philosophy down from Heaven to Earth.' His subjects were Man and Society. He entered a protest against the enquiries of the early philosophers • See, on the method of Sokrates, Appendix A. DOCTRINE THAT VIRTUE IS KNOWLEDGE. 47 as to the constitution of the Kosmos, the nature of the Heavenly Bodies, the theory of Winds and Storms. Ho called these Divine things ; and in a great degree useless, if understood. The Human relations of life, the varieties of conduct of men towards each other in all capacities, were alone within the com- pass of knowledge, and capable of yielding fruit. In short, his tarn of mind was thoroughly practical, we might say utilitarian. I. — He gave a foundation and a shape to Ethical Science, by insisting on its practical character, and by showing that, like the other arts of life, it had an End, and a Theory from which flows the precepts or means. The End, which would be the Standard, was not stated by him, and hardly even by Plato, otherwise than in general language ; the Summum Bonum had not as yet become a matter of close debate. ' The art of dealing with human beings,' 'the art of behaving in society,' ' the science of human happiness,' were various modes of expressing the final end of conduct.* Sokrates clearly indicated the difference between an unscientific and a scientific art ; the one is an incommunicable knack or dexterity, the other is founded on theoretical principles. II. — Notwithstanding his professing ignorance of what virtue is, Sokrates had a definite doctrine with reference to Ethics, which we may call his Psychology of the subject. This was the doctrine that resolves Virtue into Knowledge, Vice into Ignorance or Folly. ' To do right was the only way to impart happiness, or the least degree of unhappiness compatible with any given situation : now, this was precisely what every one wished for and aimed at — only that many persons, from ignorance, took the wrong road; and no man was wise enough always to take the right. But as no man was willingly his own enemy, so no man ever did wrong •willingly ; it was because he was not fully or correctly in- formed of the consequences of his own actions ; so that the proper remedy to apply, was enlarged teaching of conse- quences and improved judgment. To make him willing to be taught, the only condition required was to make him con- scious of his own ignorance ; the want of which consciousness was the real cause both of indocility and of vice ' (Grote). This * In setting forth the Ethical End, the language of Sokrates was not always consistent. He sometimes stated it. as if it included an indepen- dent reference to the happiness of others ; at other times, he speaks as if the end was the agent's own haj>piness, to which the happiness of others was the greatest and most essential means. The first view, although not always adhered to, prevails m Xenophon ; the second appears most in Plato. 48 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — SOKRATES. doctrine grew out of his favourite analogy between social duty and a profession or trade. When the artizan goes wrong, it is usually from pure ignorance or incapacity ; he is wilh'ng to do good work if be is able. III. — The SuMMUM BONUM with Sokrates was Well-doing. He had no ideal of pursuit for man apart from virtue, or what he esteemed virtue — the noble and the praiseworthy. This was the elevated point of view maintained alike by him and by Plato, and common to them with the ideal of modern ages. Well-doing consisted in doing well whatever a man under- took. * The best man,' he said, 'and the most beloved by the gods, is he that, as a husbandman, performs well the duties of husbandry ; as a surgeon, the duties of the medical art ; in political life, his duty towards the commonwealth. The man that does nothing well is neither useful nor agreeable to the gods.' And as knowledge is essential to all undertakings, knowledge is the one thing needfal. This exclusive regard to knowledge was his one-sidedness as a moral theorist ; but he did not consistently exclude all reference to the voluntary control of appetite and passion. IV. — He inculcated Practical Precepts of a self-denying kind, intended to curb the excesses of human desire and am- bition. He urged the pleasures of self-improvement and of duty against indulgences, honours, and worldly advancement. In the 'Apology,' he states it as the second aim of his life (after imparting the shock of conscious ignorance) to reproach men for pursuing wealth and glory more than wisdom and virtue. In ' Kriton,' he lays it down that we are never to act wrongly or unjustly, although others are unjust to us. And, in his own life, he furnished an illustrious example of his teaching. The same lofty strain was taken up by Plato, and repeated in most of the subsequent Ethical schools. V. — His Ethical Theory extended itself to Government, where he applied his analogy of the special arts. The legiti- mate King was he that knew how to govern well. VI. — The connexion in the mind of Sokrates between Ethics and Theology was very slender. In the first place, his distinction of Divine and Human things, was an exclusion of the arbitrary will of the gods from human affairs, or from those things that constituted the ethical end. But in the next place, he always preserved a pious and re- verential tone of mind; and considered tliat, after patient study, men should still consult the oracles, bj which the gods, ir ETHICAL DIALOGUES OF PLATO. 49 cases of difficulty, graciously signified their intentions, and their beneficent care of the race. Then, the practice of well- doing was prompted by reference to the satisfaction of the gods. In so far as the gods administered the world in a right spirit, they would show favour to the virtuous. PLATO. [427-347 b.c] The Ethical Doctrines of Plato are scattered through his various Dialogues ; and incorporated with his philosophical method, with his theory of Ideas, and with his theories of man and of society. From Sokrates, Plato derived Dialectics, or the method of Debate ; he embodied all his views in imaginary conversa- tions, or Dialogues, suggested by, and resembling the real conversations of Sokrates. And farther, in imitation of his master, he carried on his search after truth under the guise of ascertaining the exact meaning or definition of leading terms ; as Virtue, Courage, Holiness, Temperance, Justice, Law, Beauty, Knowledge, Rhetoric, &c. We shall first pass in review the chief Dialogues contain- ing Ethical doctrines. The Apology, Kriton, and Euthyphron (we follow Mr. Grote's order) may be passed by as belonging more to his master than to himself; moreover, everything contained in them will be found recurring in other dialogues. The Alkibiades I. is a good specimen of the Sokratic man- ner. It brings out the loose discordant notions of Just and V 11 just prevailing in the community ; sets forth that the Just is also honourable, good, and expedient — the cause of happi- ness to the just man ; urges the importance of Self-know- ledge ; and maintains that the conditions of happiness are not wealth and power, but Justice and Temperance. Alkibiades II. brings out a Platonic position as to the Good. There are a number of things that are good, as health, money, family, but there is farther required the skill to apply these in proj^er measure to the supreme end of life. All knowledge is not valuable ; there may be cases where ignor- ance is better. What we are principally interested in know- ing is the Good, the Best, the Profitable. The man of much learning, without this, is like a vessel tossed on the sea with- out a pilot.* * • What Plato here calls the Knowledge of Good, or Reason, — the just discrimination and comparative appreciation, of Ends and Means — ap- pears in the Politikus and the Euthydernus, under the title of the Regal or 50 ETHIC A.L SYSTEMS — PLATO. In HipPiAS Minor, appears an extreme statement of the doctrine, common to Sokrates and Plato, identifying virtne ■with knowledge, or glv^ing exclusive attention to the intel- lectual element of conduct. It is urged that a mendacious person, able to tell the truth if he chooses, is better than one unable to tell it, although wishing to do so ; the knowledge is of greater worth than the good disposition. In Minos (or the Definition of Laiv) he refuses to accept the decree of the state as a law, but postulates the decision of some Ideal wise man. This is a following oat of the Sokratic analogy of the professions, to a purely ideal demand ; the wise man is never producible. In many dialogues (Kriton, Laches, &c.) the decision of some Expert is sought, as "a physician is consulted in disease ; but the Moral expert is unknown to any actual communitry. In Laches, the question *what is Virtue?' is put; it is argued under the special virtue of Courage. In a truly Sokratic dialogue, Sokrates is in search of a definition of. Courage; as happens in the search dialogues, there is no» definite result, bnt the drift of the discussion is to makei courage a mode of intelligence, and to resolve it into thei grand desideratum of the knowledge of good and evil — belonging to the One Wise Man. Charmides discusses Temperance. As usual with Plato ini discussing the virtues, with a view to their Logical definition, , he presupposes that this is something beneficial and good.* Various definitions are given of Temperance ; and all are re-> jected ; but the dialogue falls into the same track as the? Laches, in putting forward the supreme science of good and! evil. It is a happy example of the Sokratic manner and par- Political Art, as employing or directins^ the results of all other arts, which are considered as subordinate : in the Protagoras, under the title of art of calculation or mensuration : in the Philebus, as measure and proportion : in the PhaeJius (in regard to rhetoric) as the art of turning to account, for the main purpose of persuasion, all the special processes, stratagems, decorations, &c., imparted by professional masters. In the Republic, it is personified in the few venerable Elders who constitute the Keason of the society, and whose directions all the rest (Guardians andi Producers) arc bound impliciLly to follow : the virtue of the subordinates; consisting in this implicit obedience. In the Leges, it is defined as the complete subjection in the mind, of pleasures and pains to right Reason, without which, no special aptitudes are worth having. In the Xeno-- phontic Memorabilia, it stands as a Sokratic authority under the title of i Sophrosyne or Temperance : and the Profitable is declared identical wi*;!!! the Good, as the directing and limiting principle for all human pursuittli and proceedings.' (Grote's Plato, I., 362.) IS VIRTUE TEACHABLE? 51 pose, of exposing the conceit of knowledge, the fancy that people understaud the meaning of the general terms habitually employed. Lysis on Friend^hijJ, ov Love, might be expected to fur- nish some ethical openings, but it is rather a piece of dialectic, ^\ithout result, farther than to impart the consciousness of iirnorance. If it suggests anything positive, it is the Idea of Good, as the ultimate end of affection. The subject is one of special interest in ancient Etl; cs, as being one of the aspects of Benevolent sentiment iu the Pagan world. In Aristotle we first find a definite handling of it. Me::sOX may be considered as pre-eminently ethical in its design. It is expressly devoted to the question — Is Virtue teuchahle? Sokrates as usual confesses that he does not know what virtue is. He will not accept a catalogue of the admitted virtues as a definition of virtue, and presses for some common or defining attribute. He advances on his own side his usual doctrine that virtue is Kjiowledge, or a mode of Knowledge, and that it is good and profitable ; which is merely an iteration of the Science of good and evil. He distinguishes virtue from Right Opinion, a sort of quasi-knowledge, the knowledge of esteemed and useful citizens, which cannot be the highest knowledge, since these citizens fail to impart it even to their own sons. In this dialogue, we have Plato's view of Immortality, which comprises both pre-exist ence and post-existence. The pre-existence is used to explain the derivation of general notions, or Ideas, which are antecedent to the perceptions of sense. In Protagoeas, we find one of the most important of the ethical discussions of Plato. It proceeds from the same ques- tion. — Is virtue teachable ? — Sokrates as usual expressing his doubts on the point. Protagora^s then delivers a splendid harangue, showing how virtue is taught — namely, by the practice of society in approving, condemning, rewarding, punishing the actions of individuals. From childhood upward, iiverj human being in society is a witness to the moral pro- cedure of society, and by degrees both knows, and conforms to, the maxims of virtue of the society. Protagoras himself as a professed teacher, or sophist, can improve but little upon this habitual inculcation. Sokrates, at the end of the harangue, puts in his usual questions tending to bring out the essence or definition of virtue, and soon drives Protagoras into a corner, bringing him to admit a view nowhere else developed in Plato, 52 ETHICAL SYSTEMS -PLATO. that PleasTire is the only pfood, Pain the only evil, and tliat the science of Good and Evil consists in Measuring, and in choosing between conflicting pleasures and pains — preferring the greater pleasure to the less, the less pain to the greater. For example, courage is a wise estimate of things terrible and things not terrible. In consistency with the doctrine that Knowledge is virtue, it is mauitained here as elsewhere, that a man knowing good and evil must act upon that knowledge, Plato often repeats his theory of Measurement, but never again specifically intimates that the things to be measured are pleasures and pains. And neither here nor elsewhere, does he suppose the virtuous man taking directly into his calculation the pleasures and pains of other persons. GoRGiAS, one of the most renowned of the dialogues in point of composition, is also ethical, but at variance with the Protagoras, and more in accordance with Plato's predominating views. The professed subject is Rhetoric, which, as an art, Sokrates professes to hold in contempt. The dialogue begins with the position that men are prompted by the desire of good, but proceeds to the great Platonic paradox, that it is a greater evil to do wrong than to suffer wrong. The criminal labours tinder a mental distemper, and the best thing that can happen to him, is to be punished that so he may be cured. The •unpunished wrong-doer is more miserable than if he were punished. Sokrates in this dialogue maintains, in opposition to the thesis of Protagoras, that pleasure is not the same as good, that there are bad pleasures and good pains ; and a skilful adviser, one versed in the science of good and evil, must discriminate between them. He does not mean that those pleasures only are bad that bring an overplus of future pains, which would be in accordance with the previous dialogue. The sentiment of the dialogue is ascetic and self- denying.* Order or Discipline is inculcated, not as a means to an end, but as an end in itself. * * Indeed there is nothing more remarkable in the Gorgias, than the manner in which Sokrates nut only condemns the unmeasured, exorbitant, maleficent desires, but also depreciates and degrades all the actualities of life — all the recreative and elegant arts, including music and poetry, tragic as well as dithyrambic — all provision for the most essential wants, all protection against particular sufferings and dangers, even all service rendered to another person in the way of relief or of rescue — all the effec- tive maintenance of public ori>anized force, such as ships, docks, walls, arms, &c. Immediate satisfaction or relief, and those who confer it, are treated with contempt, and presented as in hostility to the perfection of the mental structure. And it is in this point of view, that various Platoaio PLEASURE AND PAIN. 53 The PoLiTiKUS is OQ the Art of G-overnment, and gives the Platonic beau ideal of the One competent person, governing absolutely, by virtue of his scientific knowledge, and aiming at the good and improvement of the governed. This is merely another illustration of the Sokratic ideal — a despotism, anointed by supreme good intentions, and by an ideal skill. The Re- public is an enlargement of the lessons of the Politikus with- out the dialectic discussion. The postulate of the One Wise man is repeated in Kratylps, on the unpromising subject of Language or the invention of Names. The Philebus has a decidedly ethical character. It pro- pounds for enquiry the Good, the Summum Bonum. This is denied to be mere pleasure, and the denial is enforced by Sokrates challenging his opyjouent to choose the lot of an ecstatic oyster. As usual, good must be related to Intelligence ; and the Dialogue gives a long disquisition upon the One and the Many, the Theory of Ideas, the Determinate and the Inde- terminate. Good is a compound of Pleasure and Intelligence, the last predominating. Pleasure is the Indeterminate, requir- ing the Determinate (Knowledge) to regulate it. This is merely another expression for the doctrine of Measure, and for the common saying, that the Passions must be controlled by Heason. There is, also, in the dialogue, a good deal on the Psychology of Pleasure and Pain. Pleasure is the funda- mental harmony of the system ; Pain its disturbance. Bodily Pleasure pre-supposes pain [true only of some pleasures]. Mental pleasures may be without previous pain, and are there- fore pure pleasures- A life of Intelligence is conceivable without either pain or pleasure ; this is the choice of the Wise man, and is the nature of the gods. Desire is a mixed state, and comprehends body and mind. Much stress is laid on the moderate and tranquil pleasures ; the intense pleasures, coveted by mankind, belong to a distempered rather than a healthy state ; they are false and delusive. Pleasure is, by its nature, a change or transition, and cannot be a supreme end. The m,ixture of Pleasure and Intelligence is to be adjusted by the all-important principle of Measure or Proportion, which con- nects the Good with the BeautifuL commentators extol in an especial manner the Gorgias: as recognizing an Idea of Good superhuman and supernatural, radicnlly disparate from pleasures and pains of any human being, and incommensurable with them ; an Universal Idea, which, though it is supposed to east a distant light upon its particulars, is separated from them by an incalculable space, and is discernible only by the Platonic telescope.' (Grote, Gorgias.) 54 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — PLATO. A decided asceticism is the efcliical tendency of this dialogtie. It is markedly opposed to the view of the Protagoras. Still greater is the opposition between it and the two Erotic dialogues, Phtedrus and Symposium, where Bonuvi and Pidchrum are attained in the pursuit of an ecstatic and over- whelming personal affection. The Republic starts with the question — what is Justice ? and, in answering it, provides the scheme of a model Republic. Book I. is a Sokratic colloquy, where one speaker, on being inteiTogated, defines Justice as 'rendering to every man his due,' and afterwards amends it to ' doing good to friends, evil to enemies.* Another gives ' the right ot the strongest.' A third maintains that Injustice by itself is profitable to the doer ; but, as it is an evil to society in general, men make laws against it and punish it ; in consequence of which, Justice is the more profitable. Sokrates, in opposition, undertakes to prove that Justice is good in itself, ensuring the happiness of the doer by its intrinsic effect on his mind ; and irrespective of exemption from the penalties of injustice. He reaches this result by assimilating an individual to a state. Justice is shown to be good in the entire city, and by analogy it is also good in the individual. He accordingly proceeds to construct his ideal commonwealth. In the course of this construction many ethical views crop out. The state must prescribe the religious belief, and allow no compositions at variance with it. The gods must always be set forth as the causes of good ; they must never be repre- sented as the authors of evil, nor as practising deceit. Neither is it to be allowed to represent men as unjust, yet happy ; or just, and yet miserable. The poetic representation of bad cha- racters is also forbidden. The musical training is to be adapted for disposing the mind to the perception of Beauty, whence it becomes qualified to recognize the other virtues. Useful fictions are to be diffused, v.^ithout regard to truth. This pious fraud is openly recommended by Plato. The division of the human mind into (1) Reason or Intelligence; (2) Energy, Courage, Spirit, or the Military Virtue; and (3) Many-headed Appetite, all in mutual counter- play — is transferred to the State, each of the three parts being represented by one of the political orders or divisions of the community. The happiness of the man and the happiness of the commonwealth are attained in the same way, namely, by rea- lizing the four virtues — Wisdom, Courage, Temperance, Jus- tice J with this condition, that Wisdom, or Reason, is sough fe PLATONIC REPUBLIC. 65 only in the Ruling caste, the Elders ; Courage, or Energy, only in the second caste, the Soldiers or Guardians ; while Temperance and Justice (meaning almost the same thing) must inhere alike in all the three classes, and be the only thing ex- pected in the third, the Working Multitude. If it be now asked, what and where is Justice ? the answer is — 'every man to attend to his own business.' Injustice occurs when any one abandons his post, or meddles with what does not belong to him ; and more especially when any one of a lower division aspires to the function of a higher. Such is Justice for the city, and such is it in the individual ; the higher faculty — Reason, must control the two lower — Courage and Appetite. Justice is thus a sort of harmony or balance of the mental powers ; it is to the mind what health is to the body. Health is the greatest good, sickness the greatest evil, of the body ; so is Justice of the mind. It is an essential of the Platonic Republic that, among the guardians at least, the sexual arrangements should be under public regulation, and the monopoly of one woman by one man forbidden : a regard to the breed of the higher caste of citizens requires the magistrate to see that the best couples are brought together, and to refuse to rear the inferior offspring of ill- assorted connexions. The number of births is also to be regulated. In carrying on war, special maxims of clemency are to be observed towards Hellenic enemies. The education of the Guardians must be philosophical ; it is for them to rise to the Idea of the good, to master the science of Good and Evil ; they must be emancipated from the notion that Pleasure is the good. To indicate the route to this attainment Plato gives his theory of cognition generally — the theory of Ideas ; — and indicates (darkly) how these sublime generalities are to be reached. The Ideal Commonwealth supposed established, is doomed to degradation and decay ; passing through Timocracy, Oligarchy, Democracy, to Despotism, with a corresponding declension of happiness. The same varieties may be traced in the Individual ; the ' despotized ' mind is the acme of Injus- tice and consequent misery. The comparative value of Pleasures is discussed. The pleasures of philosophy, or wisdom (those of Reason), are alone true and pure ; the pleasures corresponding to the two other parts of the mind are inferior ; Love of Honour (from Courage or Energy), and Love of Money (Appetite). The 56 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— PLATO. well-ordered mind — Justice — is above all things the source of happiness. Apart from all consequences of Justice, this is true ; the addition of the natural results only enhances the strength of the position. In Tim Jius, Plato repeats the doctrine that wickedness is to t!ie mind what disease is to the body. The soul suffers from two distempers, madness and ignorance ; the man under pas- sionate heat is not wicked voluntarily. No man is bad wil- lingly ; but only from some evil habit of body, the effect of bad bringing-up [very much the view of Robert Owen]. The long treatise called the Laws, being a modified scheme of a Republic, goes over the same ground with more detail. We give the chief ethical points. It is the purpose of the law- giver to bring about happiness, and to provide all good things divine and human. The divine things are the cardinal virtues — Wisdom, Justice, Temperance, Courage; the human are the leading personal advantages — Health, Beauty, Strength, Activity, Wealth. He requires the inculcation of self-com- mand, and a training in endurance. The moral and religious feelings are to be guided in early youth, by the influence of Poetry and the other Fine Arts, in which, as before, a strin- gent censorship is to be exercised ; the songs and dances are all to be publicly authorized. The ethical doctrine that the just man is happy and the unjust miserable, is to be preached ; and every one prohibited from contradicting it. Of all the titles to command in society. Wisdom is the highest, although policy may require it to be conjoined with some of the others (Birth, Age, Strength, Accident, &c.). It is to be a part of the constitution to provide public exhortations, or sermons, for inculcating virtue ; Plato having now passed into an op- posite phase as to the value of Rhetoric, or continuous address. The family is to be allowed in its usual form, but with re- straints on the age of marriage, on the choice of the parties, and on the increase of the number of the population. Sexual intercourse is to be as far as possible confined to persons legally married; those departing from this rule are, at all events, to observe secresy. The slaves are not to be of the same race as the masters. As regards punishment, there is a great complication, owing to the author's theory that wicked- ness is not properly voluntary. Much of the harm done by persons to others is unintentional or involuntary, and is to be made good by reparation. For the loss of balance or self- control, making the essence of injustice, there must be a penal and educational discipline, suited to cure the moral distemper ; SUMMARY OF PLATO's ETHICS. 67 not for the sake of the past, which cannot be recalled, but of the future. Under cover of this theorj, the punishments are abundantly severe ; and the crimes include Heresy, for wkich there is a f^radation of penalties terminating in death. We may now summarize the Ethics of Plato, under the general scheme as follows : — I. — The Ethical Standard, or criterion of moral Right and Wrong. This we have seen is, ultimately, the Science of Good and Evil, as determined by a Scientific or Wise man ; the Idea of the Good, which only a philosopher can ascend to. Plato gave no credit to the maxims of the existing society ; these were wholly unscientific. It is obvious that this vague and indeterminate standard would settle nothing practically; no one can tell what it is. It is only of value as belonging to a very exalted and poetic conception of virtue, something that raises the imagination above common life into a sphere of transcendental existence, II.— The Psychology of Ethics, 1. As to the Faculty of discerning Right. This is im- plied in the foregoing statement of the cnterion. It is the Cognitive or Intellectual power. In the definite position taken up in Protagoras, it is the faculty of Measuring plea- sures against one another and against pains. In other dia- logues, measure is still the important aspect of the process, although the things to be measured are not given, 2. As regards the Av'dl. The theory that vice, if not the result of ignorance, is a form of madness, an uncontrollable fury, a mental distemper, gives a peculiar rendering of the nature of man's Will. It is a kind of Necessity, not exactly corresponding, however, with the modem doctrine of that name. 3. Disinterested Sentiment is not directly and plainly re- cognized by Plato. His highest virtue is self- regarding ; a concern for the Health of the SouL IIL — On the Bonum, or Summum Bonum, Plato is ascetic and self-denying. 1. We have seen that in Philebus, Pleasure is not good, unless united with Knowled^ or Intelligence ; and the greater the Intelligence, the higher the pleasure. That the highest happiness of man is the pursuit of truth or Philosophy, was common to Plato and to Aristotle. 2. Happiness is attainable only through Justice or Yirtne. Justice is declared to be happiness, first, in itself, and secondly, in its consequences. Such is the importance attached to this maxim as a safeguard of Society, that, whether true or not, it is to be maintained by state authority. 58 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — PLATO. 3. The Psycliology of Pleasure and Pain is given at length in the Philebus. IV. — With regard to the scheme of Duty. Tn Plato, we find the first statement of the four Cardinal Virtues. As to the Substance of the Moral Code, the references above made to the Republic and the Laws will show in what points his views difi'ered from modern Ethics. Benevolence was not one of the Cardinal Virtues. His notions even of Reciprocity were rendered hazy and indistinct by his theory of Justice as an end in itself. The inducements, means, and stimulants to virtue, in addition to penal discipline, are training, persuasion, or hor- tatory discourse, dialectic cognition of the Ideas, and, above all, that ideal aspiration towards the Just, the Good, around which he gathered all that was fascinating in poetry, and all the associations of religion and divinity. Plato employed his powerful genius in working up a lofty spiritual reward, an ideal intoxication, for inciting men to the self-denying virtues. He was the first and one of the greatest of preachers. His theory of Justice is suited to preaching, and not to a scientific analysis of society. V. — The relation of Ethics to Politics is intimate, and even inseparable. The Civil Magistrate, as in Hobbes, supplies the Ethical sanction. All virtue is an affair of the state, a political institution. This, however, is qualified by the de- mand for an ideal state, and an id . h1 governor, by whom alone anything like perfect virtue can be ascertained. VI. — The relationship with Theology is also close. That is to say, Plato was not satisfied to construct a science of good and evil, without conjoining the sentiments towards the Gods. His Theology, however, was of his own invention, and adapted to his ethical theory. It was necessary to suppose that the gods were the authors of good, in order to give countenance to virtue. Plato was the ally of the Stoics, as against the Epicureans, and of such modern theorists as Butler, who make virtue, and not happiness, the highest end of man. With him, discipline was an end in itself, and not a means ; and he en- deavoured to soften its rigour by his poetical and elevated Idealism. Although he did not preach the good of mankind, or direct beneficence, he undoubtedly prepared the way for it, by urging self-denial, which has no issue or relevance, except either by realizing greater happiness to Self (mere exalted THE CYNICS. 59 Prudence, approved of bj all sects), or by promoting the welfare of others. THE CYNICS AND THE CYRENAICS. These opposing sects sprang from Sokrates, and passed, witb little moditication, the one into the Stoics, the other into the Epicureans. Both Antisthenes, the founder of the Cynics, and Akistippus, the founder of the Cyrenaics, were disciples of Sokrates. Their doctrines chiefly referred to the Summum Bonum — the Art of Living, or of Happiness. The Cynics were most closely allied to Sokrates ; they, in fact, carried out to the full his chosen mode of life. His favourite maxim — that the gods had no wants, and that the most godlike man was he that approached to the same state — was the Cynic Ideal. To subsist upon the narrowest means ; to acquire indifference to pain, by a discipline of endurance ; to despise all the ordinary pursuits of wealth and pleasure, — were Sokratic peculiarities, and were the heau ideal of Cynicism. The Cynic succession of philosophers were, (1) Antis- thenes, one of the most constant friends and companions of Sokrates ; (2) Diogenes of Sinope, the pupil of Antisthenes, and the best known type of the sect. (His disciple Krates, a Theban, was the master of Zeno, the first Stoic) (3) Stilpon of Megara, (4) Menedemus of Lretria, (5) Monimus of Syracuse, (6) Kkates. The two first heads of the Ethical scheme, so meagrely filled up by the ancient systems generally, are almost a total blank as regards both Cynics and Cyrenaics. I. — As regards a Standard of right and wrong, moral good or evil, they recognized nothing but obedience to the laws and customs of society. n. — They had no Psychology of a moral faculty, of the will, or of benevolent sentiment. The Cyrenaic Aristippus had a Psychology of Pleasure and Pain. The Cynics, instead of discussing Will, exercised it, in one of its most prominent forms, — self-control and endurance. Disinterested conduct was no part of their scheme, although the ascetic discipline necessarily promotes abstinence from sins against property, and from all the vices of public ambition, III. — The proper description of both systems comes under the Sunoimum Bonum, or the Art of Living. The Cynic Ideal was the minimum of wants, the habitua- tion to pain, together with indifference to the common enjoy* 60 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — CYNICS AND CYRENAIC3. merits. The compensating reward was exemption from fear, anxiety, and disappointment; also, the pride of superiority to fellow- beings and of approximation to the gods. Looking at the gi'eat predominance of misery in human life, they believed the problem of living to consist in a mastery over all the forms of pain ; until this was first secured, there was to be a total sacrifice of pleasure. The Cynics were mostly, like Sokrates, men of robust health, and if they put their physical constitution to a severe test by poor living and exposure to wind and weather, they also saved it from the wear and tear of steady industry and toil. Exercise of body and of mind, with a view to strength and endurance, was enjoined ; but it was the drill of the soldier rather than the drudgery of the artisan. In the eyes of the public, the prominent feature of the Cynic was his contemptuous jeering, and sarcastic abuse of everybody around. The name (Cynic, dog-like) denotes this peculiarity. The anecdotes relating to Diogenes illustrate his coarse denunciation of men in general and their luxurious ways. He set at defiance all the conventions of courtesy and of decency ; spoke his mind on everything without fear or remorse ; and delighted in his antagonism to public opinion. He followed the public and obtrusive life of Sokrates, but instead of dia- lectic skill, his force lay in vituperation, sarcasm, and repartee. * To Sokrates,' says Epil.tetus, * Zeus assigned the cross-exa- mining function ; to Uiogenes, the magisterial and chastising function ; to Zeno (the Stoic), the didactic and dogmatical-' The Cynics had thus in full measure one of the rewards of asceticism, the pride of superiority and power. They did not profess an end apart from their own happiness ; they believed and maintained that theirs was the only safe road to happiness. They agreed with the Cyrenaics as to the end ; they difibred as to the means. The founders of the sect, being men of culture, set great store by education, from which, however, they excluded (as it would appear) both the Artistic and the Intellectual elements of the superior instruction of the time, namely. Music, and the Sciences of Geometry, Astronomy, &c. Plato's writings and teachings were held in low esteem. Physical training, self-denial and endurance, and literary or Rhetorical cultiva- tion, comprise the items taught by Diogenes when he became a slave, and was made tutor to the sons of his master. IV". — As to the Moral Code, the Cynics were dissenters from the received usages of society. They disapproved of ARISTIPPUS. 61 marriage laws, aud maintained the liberty of individual tastes in the intercourse of the sexes. Beinj]: free-thinkers in religion they had no respect for any of the customs founded on relig-ion. V. — The collateral relations of Cynical Ethics to Politics and to Theoloory afford no scope for additional observations. The Cynic and Cyrenaic both stood aloof from the affairs of the state, and were alike disbelievers in the gods. The Cynics appear to have been inclined to communism among themselves, which was doubtless easy with their views as to the wants of life. It is thought not unlikely that Sokrates himself held views of communism both as to pro- perty and to wives ; being in this respect also the prompter of Plato (Grant's Ethics of Aristotle, Essay ii.). The Cyrenaic system originated with Aristippus of Cyrene, another hearer and companion of Sokrates. The tempera- ment of Aristippus was naturally inactive, easy, and luxurious; nevertheless he set great value on mental cultivation and accomplishments. His conversations with Sokrates form one of the most interesting chapters of Xenophon's Memorabilia, and are the key to the plan of life ultimately elaborated by him. Sokrates finding out his disposition, repeats all the arguments in favour of the severe and ascetic system. He urges the necessity of strength, courage, energy, self-denial, in order to attain the post of ruler over others ; which, how- ever, Aristippus fences by saying that he has no ambition to rule ; he prefers the middle course of a free man, neither ruling nor ruled over. Next, Sokrates recalls the dangers and evil contingencies of subjection, of being oppressed, unjustly treated, sold into slavery, and the consequent wretchedness to one unhardened by an adequate discipline. It is in this argument that he recites the well-known apologue called the choice of Herakles ; in which, Virtue on the one hand, and Pleasure with attendant vice on the other, with their respective conse- quences, are set before a youth in his opening career. The whole argument with Aristippus was purely prudential ; but Aristippus was not convinced nor brought over to the Sokratic ideal. He nevertheloss adopted a no less prudential and self- denying plan of his own. Aristippus did not write an account of his system; and the particulars of his life, which would show how he acted it, are but imperfectly preserved. He w^as the first theorist to avow and maintain that Pleasure, and the absence of Pain, are the proper, the direct, the immediate, the sole end of living ; not of course mere present pleasures and present relief from pain, but 62 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— CYNICS AND CYRENAICS. present and future taken in one great total. He would sur- render present pleasure, and incur present pain, with a view to greater future good ; but he did not believe in the necessity of that extreme surrender and renunciation enjoined by the Cynics. He gratified all his appetites and cravings within the limits of safety. He could sail close upon the island of Calypso without surrendering himself to the sorceress. In- stead of deadening the sexual appetite he gave it scope, and yet resisted the dangerous consequences of associating with Hetseras. In his enjoyments he was free from jealousies ; thinking it no derogation to his pleasure that others had the same pleasure. Having thus a lair share of natural indul- gences, he dispenses with the Cynic pride of superiority and the luxury of contemning other men. Strength of will was required for this course no less than for the Cynic life. Aristippus put forward strongly the impossibility of rea- lizing all the Happiness that might seem within one's reach ; such were the attendant and deterring evils, that many plea- sures had to be foregone by the wise man. S(jmetinies even the foolish person attained more pleasure than the wise ; such is the lottery of life ; but, as a general rule, the fact would be otherwise. The wisest could not escape the natural evils, pain and death ; but envy, passionate love, and superstition, being the consequences of vain and mistaken opinion, might be conquered by a knowledge of the real nature of Good and Evil. As a proper appendage to such a system, Aristippus sketched a Psychology of Pleasure and Pain, which was important as a beginning, and is believed to have brought the subject into prominence. The soul comes under three condi- tions, — a gentle, smooth, equable motion, corresponding to Pleasui'e ; a rough, violent motion, which is Pain ; and a calm, quiescent state, indifference or Unconsciousness. More re- markable is the farther assertion that Pleasure is only present or realized consciousness ; the memory of pleasures past, and the idea of pleasures to come, are not to be counted ; the painful accompaniments of desire, hope, and fear, are sufficient to neutralize any enjoyment that may arise from ideal bliss. Consequently, the happiness of a life means the sum total of these moments of realized or present pleasure. He recognized pleasures of the mind, as well as of the body ; sympathy with the good fortunes of friends or country gives a thrill of genuine and lively joy. Still, the pleasures and the pains of the body, and of one's own self, are more intense ; witness the bodily inflictions used in punishing offenders. THE CHIEF GOOD. 63 The Cyrenaics denied that there is anything just, or honourable, or base, by nature ; all depended on the laws and customs. These laws and customs the wise man obeys, to avoid punishment and discredit from the society where he lives ; doubtless, also, from higher motives, if the political constitution, and his fellow citizens generally, can inspire him with respect. Neither the Cynics nor the Cyrenaics made any profession of generous or disinterested impulses. ARISTOTLE. [384-322 b.c] Three treatises on Ethics have come down associated with the name of Aristotle ; one large work, the Nicomachean Ethics, referred to by general consent as the chief and im- portant source of Aristotle's views ; and two smaller works, the Eudemian Ethics, and the Magna Moralia, attributed by later critics to his disciples. Even of the large work, which consists of ten books, three books (V. VI. VII.), recurring in the Eudemian Ethics, are considered by Sir A. Grant, though not by other critics, to have been composed by Endemus, the supposed author of this second treatise, and a leading disciple of Aristotle. Like many other Aristotelian treatises, the Nicomachean Ethics is deficient in method and consistency on any view of its composition. But the profound and sagacious remarks scattered throughout give it a permanent interest, as the work of a great mind. There may be extracted from it certain leading doctrines, whose point of departure was Platonic, although greatly modified and improved by the genius and personality of Aristotle. Our purpose will be best served by a copious abstract of the Nicomachean Ethics. Book Eirst discusses the Chief Good, or the Highest End of all human endeavours. Every exercise of the human powers aims at some good ; all the arts of life have their several ends — medicine, ship-building, generalship. Bat the ends of these special arts are all subordinate to some higher end ; which end is the chief good, and the subject of the highest art of all, the Political ; for as Politics aims at the welfare of the state, or aggregate of indviduals, it is identical with and com- prehends the welfare of the individual (Chaps. L, IL). As regards the 'method of the science, the highest exactness is not attainable ; the political art studies what is just, honourable, and good ; and these are matters about which the 64 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — ARISTOTLE. utmost discrepancy of Opinion prevails. From sucli premises, the conclusions which we draw can only be probabilities. The man of experience and cultivation will expect nothinf^ more. Youths, who are inexperienced in the concerns of life, and given to follow their impulses, can hardly appreciate our reasoning, and will derive no benefit from it : but reason- able men will find the knowledge highly profitable (HI.)- Resuming the main question — What is the highest prac- tical good — the aim of the all-coraprehending political science? — we find an agreement among men as to the name happiness (^evBat/Liovia) ; but great differences as to the nature of the thing. The many regard it as made up of the tangible elements — pleasures, wealth, or honour ; while individuals vary in their estimate according to each man's state for the time being ; the sick placing it in health, the poor in wealth, the consciously ignorant in knowledge. On the other hand, cer- tain philosophers [in allusion to Plato] set up an absolute good, — an Idea of the Good, apart from all the particulars, yet imparting to each its property of being good (IV.). Referring to men's lives (as a clue to their notions of the good), we find three prominent varieties ; the life of pleasure or sensuality, — ^the political life, aspiring to honour, — and the contemplative life. The first is the life of the brutes, although countenanced by men high in power. The second is too precarious, as depending on others, and is besides only a means to an end — namely, our consciousness of our own merits ; for the ambitious man seeks to be honoured for his virtue and by good judges — thus showing that he too regards virtue as the superior good. Yet neither will virtue satisfy all the con- ditions. The virtuous man may slumber or pass his life in inactivity, or may experience the maximum of calamity ; and Buch a man cannot be regarded as happy. The money-lender is still less entitled, for he is an unnatural character ; and money is obviously good as a means. So that there remains only the life of contemplation ; respecting which more presently (V.). To a review of the Platonic doctrine, Aristotle devotes a whole chapter. He urges against it various objections, very much of a piece with those brought against the theory of Ideas generally. If there be but one good, there should be but one science ; the alleged Idea is merely a repetition of the phenomena; the recognized goods (*.e., varieties of good) cannot be brought under one Idea; moreover, even granting the reality of such an Idea, it is useless for all practical purposes. What GUI' science seeks is Good, human and attainable (VI.). THE SUPREME END NOT A MEANS. 65 The Supreme End is what is not only chosen as an End, but is never chosen except as an End : not chosen both for itself and with a view to something ulterior. It must thus be — (1) An end-in-itsclj\ pursued for its own sake ; (2) it musfc farther be self-sufficing, leaving no outstanding wants — man's sociability being taken into account and gratified. Happiness is such an end ; but we must state more clearly wherein happiness consists. This will appear, if we examine what is the work appro- priate and peculiar to man. Every artist, the sculptor, car- penter, currier (so too the eye and the hand), has his own peculiar work : and good, to him, consists in his performing that work well. Man also has his appropriate and peculiar work : not merely living — for that he has in common with vegetables ; nor the life of sensible perception — for that he has in common with other animals, horses, oxen, &c. There remains the life of man as a rational being: that is, as a being possessing reason along with other mental elements, which last are controllable or modifiable by reason. This last life is the peculiar work or province of man. For our purpose, we must consider man, not merely as possessing, but as actually exercising and putting in action, these mental capacities. Moreover, when we talk generally of the work or province of an artist, we always tacitly imply a complete and excellent artist in his own craft : and so likewise when we speak of the work of a man, we mean that work as performed by a complete and competent man. Since the work of man, therefore, consists in the active exercise of the mental capapacities, conformably to reason, the supreme good of man will consist in performing this work with excellence or virtue. Herein he vrill obtain happiness, if we assume continuance throughout a full period of life : one day or a short time is not sufiicient for happiness (VII.). Aristotle thus lays down the outline of man's supreme Good or Happiness : which he declares to be the beginning or principle ((ipxv) ^^ ^^^^ deductions, and to be obtained in the best way that the subject admits. He next proceeds to com- pare this outline with the various received opinions on the subject of happiness, showing that it embraces much of what has been considered essential by former philosophers : such as being * a good of the mind,' and not a mere external good : being equivalent to 'living well and doing well,' another defi- nition ; consisting in virtue (the Cynics) ; in practical wisdom 6Q EIHICAL SYSTEMS — ARISTOTLE. — (f)p6i'7]erK (Sokrates) ; in philosophy ; or in all these coupled with pleasui'e (Plato, in the Philebus). Agreeing with those who insisted on virtue, Aristotle considers his own theory au improv^ement, byrsqairing virtue in act, and not simply in pos- session. Moreover, he contends that to the virtuous man, vir- tuous performance is in itself pleasurable ; so that no extraneous source of pleasure is needed. Such (he says) is the judgment of the truly excellent man ; Avhich must be taken as conclusive respecting the happiness, as well as the honourable pre-emi- nence of the best mental exercises. Nevertheless, he admits (so far complying with the Cyrenaics) that some extraneous conditions cannot be dispensed with ; the virtuous man can hardly exhibit his virtue in act, without some aid from friends and property ; nor can he be happy if his person is disgusting to behold or his parentage vile (VIII.). This last admission opens the door to those that place good fortune in the same line with happiness, and raises the question, how happiness is attained. By teaching? By habitual exercise ? By divine grace ? By Fortune ? If there be any gift vouchsafed by divine grace to man, it ought to be this ; but whether such be the case or not, it is at any raie the most divine and best of all acquisitions. To ascribe such an acquisition as this to Fortune would be absurd. Nature, which always aims at the best, provides that it shall be attained, through a certain course of teaching and training, by all who are not physically or mentally disqualified. It thus falls within the scope of political science, whose object is to impart the best character and active habits to the citizens. It is with good reason that we never call a horse happy, for he can never reach such an attainment ; nor indeed can a child be so called while yet a child, for the same reason ; though in his case we may hope for the future, presuming on a full term of life, as was before postulated (IX.). But this long term allows room for extreme calamities and change in a man's lot. Are we then to say, with Solon, that no one can be called happy so long as he lives ? or that the same man may often pass backwards and forwards from happiness to misery ? No ; this only shows the mistake of resting happiness upon so un- sound a basis as external fortune. The only true basis of it is the active manifestation of mental excellence, which no ill fortune can efface from a man's mind (X.). Such a man will bear calamity, if it comes, with dignity, and can never be made thoroughly miserable. If he be moderately supplied as to external circumstances, he is to be styled happy ; that is, WHEREIN DOES MaN's EXCELLENCE CONSIST ? 67 happy as a man — as far as man can reasonably expect. Even after his decease he will be atfected, yet only feebly afi'ected, by the good or ill fortune of his surviviug children. Aristotle evidently assigns little or no value to presumed posthumous happiness (XL). In his love of subtle distinctions, he asks, Is happiness a thing admirable in itself, or a thing praiseworthy ? It is ad- mirable in itself; for what is praiseworthy has a relative character, and is pmised as conducive to some ulterior end ; while the chief good must be an End in itself, for the sake of which ever^^thing else is done (XIL). [This is a defective recognition of Relativity.] Having assumed as one of the items of his definition, that man's happiness must be in his special or characteristic work, performed with perfect excellence, — Aristotle now proceeds to settle wherein that excellence consists. This leads to a classifi- cation of the parts of the soul. The first distribution is, into Rational and Irrational; whether these two are separable in fact, or only logically separable (like concave and convex), is immaterial to the present enquiry. Of the irrational, the lowest portion is the Vegetative {(pvriKov)^ which seems most active in sleep ; a state where bad men and good are on a par, and which is incapable of any human excellence. The next portion is the Appetitive (eV/^t'/i?;T<«:oV), which is not thus in- capable. It partakes of reason, yet it includes something con- flicting with reason. These conflicting tendencies are usually modiliable by reason, and may become in the temperate man completely obedient to reason. There remains Reason — the highest and sovereign portion of the soul. Human excellence (aptTi'j) or virtue, is either of the Appetitive part, — moral (ijOiKij) virtue; or of the Reason — mtellectu&l (^lapoTjnKi'j) vir- tue. Liberality and temperance are Moral virtues ; philosophy, intelligence, and wisdom, Intellectual (XIIL). Such is an outline of the First Book, having for its subject the Chief Good, the Supreme End of man. Book Second embraces the consideration of points relative to the Moral Virtues ; it also commences Aristotle's celebrated definition and classification of the virtues or excellencies. Whereas intellectual excellence is chiefly generated and improved by teaching, moral excellence is a result of habit (c'6^ov) ; whence its name (Ethical). Hence we may see that moral excellence is no inherent part of our nature : if it were, it could not be reversed by habit — any more than a stone can acquire from any number of repetitions the habit of moving 68 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — AKISTOTLE. upward, or fire the habit of moving downward. These moral excellencies are neither a part of uur nature, nor yet contrary to our nature : we are by ua^ture fitted to take them on, buo they are brought to consummation through habit. It is n«jt with them as with our senses, where nature first gives us the power to see and hear, and where we afterwards exercise that power. Moral virtues are acquired only by practice. We learn to build or to play the harp, by building or playing the harp : so too we become just or courageous, by a course of just or courageous acts. This is attested by all lawgivers in their resp.ective cities; all of them shape the characters of their respective citizens, by enforcing habitual practice. Some do it well ; others ill ; according to the practice, so will be the resulting character ; as he that is practised in building badly, will be a bad builder in the end ; and he that begins on. a bad habit of playing the harp, becomes confirmed into a bad player. Hence the importance of making the young perform good actions habitually and from the beginning. The permanent ethical acquirements are generated by uni- form and persistent practice (L). [This is the earliest state- ment of the philosophy of habit^ Everything thus turns upon practice: and Aristotle re- minds us that his purpose here is, not simply to teach what virtue is, but to produce virtuous agents. How are we to know what the practice should be ? It must be conformable to right reason : every one admits this, and we shall explain it further in a future book. But let us proclaim at once, that in regard to moral action, as in regard to health, no exact rules can be laid down. Amidst perpetual variability, each agent must in the last resort be guided by the circum- stances of the case. Still, however, something may be done to help him. Here Aristotle proceeds to introduce the famous doctrine of the Mean. We may err, as regards health, both by too much and by too little of exercise, food, or drink. The same holds good in regard to temperance, courage, and the other excellences (II.). His next remark is another of his characteristic doctrines, that the test of a formed habit of virtue, is to feel no ^jain ; he that feels pain in brave acts is a coward. Whence he proceeds to illustrate the position, that moral virtue {i]OiKij afjeTij) has to do with pleasures and pains. A virtuous education consists in making us feel pleasure and pain at proper objects, and on proper occasions. Punishment is a discipline of pain. Some philosophers (the Cynics) have been led by this consideratioa i VIRTUE DEFINED. 69 to make virtue consist in apathy, or insensibility ; bat Aristotle woald regulate, and not extirpate our sensibilities (HI.)* But does it not seem a paradox to say (according to the doctrine of habit in I.), that a man becomes just, by performing just actions; since, if he performs just actions, he is already just r' The answer is given by a distinction drawn in a com- parison with the training in the common arts of life. That a man is a good writer or musician, we see by his writing or his music; we take no account of the state of his mind in other respects : if he knows how to do this, it is enough. But in respect to moral excellence, such knowledge is not enough : a man may do just or temperate acts, but he is not necessarily a just or temperate man, unless he does them with right intention and on their own account. This state of the internal mind, which is requisite to constitute the just and temperate man, follows upon the habitual practice of just and temperate acts, and follows upon nothing else. But most men are content to talk without any such practice. They fancy erroneously that knovjiug, without doing, will make a good man. [We have here the reaction against the Sokratic doctrine of virtue, and also the statement of the necessity of 2l proper motive^ in order to virtue.] Aristotle now sets himself to find a definition of virtue, per genus et differentiarn. There are three qualities in the Soul — Passions {TraOrj), as Desire, Anger, Fear, &c., followed by pleasure or pain ; Capacities or Faculties (^i;i/d^e/s), as our capability of being angry, afraid, affected by pity, &c. ; Fixed tendencies^ acquir en tents, or states (tfetv). To which of the three does virtue or excellence belong ? It cannot be a Passion ; lor passions are not in themselves good or evil, and are not accompanied with deliberate choice {7rpoutpeai/oti^9), by which he (Plato) proposes to discriminate between good and evil. The concluding qualification of virtue — ' a rational determination, according to the ideal judicious man' — is an attempt to assign a standard or authority for what is the proper ' Mean ;' an authority purely ideal or imaginary ; the actual authority being always, rightly or wrongly, the society of the time.] Aristotle admits that his doctrine of Virtue being a mean, cannot have an application quite universal ; because there are some acts that in their very name connote badness, which are wrong thereibre, not from excess or defect, but in them- selves (VI.}. He next proceeds to resolve his general doc- trine into particulars : enumerating the different virtues stated, each as a mean, between two extremes — Courage, Temperance, Liberality, Magnanimity, Magnificence, Meek- ness, Amiability or Friendliness, Truthlulness, Justice (VIL). They are described in detail in the two following books. In uhap. VIIL, he qualifies his doctrine of Mean and Extremes, THE VOLUNTARY AND INVOLUNTARY. 71 by the remark that one Exti-eme may be much farther removed from the Mean than the other. Cowardice and Rashness are the extremes of Courage, but Cowardice is farthest removed from the Mean. The concludincic chapter (IX.) of the Book reflects on the great difficulty of hitting the mean in all things, and of correctly estimating all the requisite circumstances, in each particular case. He gives as practical rules: — To avoid at all events the worst extreme ; to keep farthest from our natural bent ; to guard against the snare of pleasure. Slight mistakes on either side are little blamed, but grave and conspicuous cases incur severe censure. Yet how far the censure ought to go, is difficult to lay down beforehand in general terms. There is the same difficulty in regard to all particular cases, and all the facts of sense : which must be left, after all, to the judgment of Sensible Perception Book Third takes up the consideration of the Virtues in detail, but prefaces them with a dissertation, occupying live chapters, on the Voluntary and Involuntary. Since praise and blame are bestowed only on voluntary actions, — the in- voluntary being pardoned, and even pitied, — it is requisite to define Volantaiy and Involuntary. What is done under physical compalsion, or through ignorance, is clearly involun- tary. What is done under the fear of greater evils is partly voluntary, and partl}^ involuntary. Such actions are voluntary in the sense of being a man's own actions ; involuntary in that they are not chosen on their ovrn account ; being praised or blamed according to the circumstances. There are cases where it is difficult to say which of two conflicting pressures ought to preponderate, and compulsion is an excuse often misapplied : but compulsion, in its strict sense, is not strength of motive at all ; it is taking the action entirely out of our own hands. As regards Ignorance, a difference is made. Ignorance of a general rule is matter for censure ; ignorance of particular circumstances may be excused. [This became the ftimous maxim of law, — ' Ignorantia facti excusat, ignorantia juris non excusat.'] If the agent, when better informed, repents of his act committed in ignorance, he afibrds good proof that the act done was really involuntary. Acts done from anger or desire (which are in the agent's self) are not to be held as involuntary. ( 1 ) If they were, the actions of brutea and children would be involuntar3\ (2) Some of these acts are morally good and approved. (8) Obligation often attaches 72 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — AEISTOTLB. to these feelings. (4) What is done from desire is pleasant ; the involuntary is painful. (5) Errors of passion are to be eschewed, no less than those of reason (I.). The next point is the nature of Purpose, Determination, or Deliberate Preference {wpoaipeaiK^, which is in the closest kindred with moral excellence, and is even more essential, in the ethical estimate, than acts themselves. This is a part of the Voluntary ; but not co-extensive therewith. For it excludes sudden and unpremeditated acts ; and is not shared by irra- tional beings. It is distinct from desire, from anger, from wish, and from opinion ; with all which it is sometimes confounded. Desire is often opposed to it ; the incontinent man acts upon his desires, but without any purpose, or even against his pur- pose ; the continent man -acts upon his purpose, but against his desires. Purpose is still more distinct from anger, and is even distinct (though in a less degree) from wish (l3ovXr](nf)j which is choice of the End, while Purpose is of the Means ; moreover, we sometimes wish for impossibilities, known as such, but we never purpose them. Nor is purpose identical with opinion (^o^fi)^ which relates to truth and falsehood, not to virtue and vice. It is among our voluntary proceedings, and includes intelligence ; but is it identical with pre-deli- berated action and its results? (II.) To answer this query, Aristotle analyzes the process of Deliberation, as to its scope, and its mode of operation. We exclude from deliberation things Eternal, like the Kosmos, or the incommensurability of the side and the diagonal of a square ; also things mutable, that are regulated by necessity, by nature, or by chance ; things out of our power ; also final ends of action, for we deliberate only about the means to ends. The deliberative process is compared to the investigation of a geometrical problem. We assume the end, and enquire by what means it can be produced ; then again, what will pro- duce the means, until we at last reach something that we our- selves can command. If, after such deliberation, we see our way to execution, we form a Purpose, or Deliberate Preference {■n-jwaipeiji'i'). Purpose is then definable as a deliberative appetency of things in our power (III.). Next is started the important question as to the choice of the final JE'7?cZ. Deliberation and Purpose respect means ; our Wish respects the End — but what is the End that we wish ? Two opinions are noticed ; according to one (Plato) we are moved to the good ; according to the other, to the apparent good. Both opinions are unsatisfactory ; the one would make VIRTUE AND VICE AKE VOLUNTARY. 73 out an incorrect choice to be no choice at all ; the other would take away all constancy from ends. Aristotle settles the point by distino-uishing, in this case as in others, be r, ween what bears a given character simply and absolutely, and what bears the same character relatively to this or that individual. The object of Wish, simply, truly, and absolutely, is the Good; while the object of Wish, to any given individual, is what appears Good to him. But by the Absolute here, Aristotle explains that he means what appears good to the virtuous and intelligent man ; who is is declared, here as elsewhere, to be t^ e infallible standard; while most men, misled by pleasure, choose what is not truly good. In like manner, Aristotle affirms, th^t those substances are truly and absolutely wholesome, which are wholesome to the healthy and well-constituted man ; other substances may be wholesome to the sick or degenerate. Aristotle's Absolute is thus a Relative with its correlate chosen or imagi.ned by himself. He then proceeds to maintain that virtue and vice are voluntary, and in our own power. The arguments are these. (1) If it be in our power to act right, the contrary is equally in our own power ; hence vice is as much volun- tary as virtue. (2) Man must be admitted to be the origin of his own actions. (3) Legislators and others punish men for wickedness, and confer honour on good actions ; even culpable ignorance and negligence are punished. (4) Our character itself, or our fixed acquirements, are in our power, being produced by our successive acts ; men be- come intemperate, by acts of drunkenness. (5) Not only the defects of the mind, but the infirmities of the body also, are blamed, when arising through our own neglect and want of training. (6) Even if it should be said that all men aim at the apparent good, but cannot control their mode of conceiving (^(pavrnata) the end; still each person, being by his acts the cause of his own fixed acquirements, must be to a certain extent the cause of his own conceptions. On this head, too, Aristotle repeats the clenching argument, that the sup- posed imbecility of conceiving would apply alike to virtue and to vice ; so that if virtuous action be regarded as voluntary, vicious action must be so regarded likewise. It must be remembered that a man's fixed acquirements or habits are not in his own power, in the same sense and degree in which bis separate acts are in his own power. Each act, from first to last, is alike in his power ; but in regard to the habit, it is 4 74 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — ARISTOTLE. only ihe initiation thereof that is thorous^hlj in his power; the habit, like a distemper, is taken on by imperceptible steps in advance (V.)- [In the foregoino^ account of the Ethical questions con- nected with the Will, Aristotle is happily nnembroiled with the modern controversy. The m-al-apropos of ' Freedom ' had not been applied to voluntary action. Accordingly, he treats the whole question from the inductive side, distinguishing the cases where people are praised or blamed for their conduct, from those where praise and blame are inapplicable as being powerless. It would have been well if the method had never been departed from ; a sound Psychology would have im- proved the induction, but would never have introduced any question except as to the reliitive strength of the different i'eelings operating as motives to voluntary conduct. In one part of his argument, however, where he maintains that vice must be voluntary, because its opposite, virtue, is voluntary, he is already touching on the magical island of the bad enchantress ; allowing a question of fact to be swayed by the notion of factitious dignity. Virtue is assumed to be voluntary, not on the evidence of fact, but because there would be an indignity cast on it, to suppose otherwise. Now, this consideration, which Aristotle gives way to on various occa- sions, is the motive underlying the objectionable metaphor.] After the preceding digression on the Voluntary and In- voluntary, Aristotle takes up the consideration of the Virtues in order, beginning with Couragbj, which was one of the received cardinal virtues, and a subject of frequent discussion. (Plato, Laches, Protagoras, Bejmhlic, &c.) Courage (oi/C/)t/a), the mean between timidity and fool- hardiness, has to do with evils. All evils are objects of fear ; but there are some evils that even the brave man does right to fear — as disgrace. Poverty or disease he ought not to fear. Yet, he will not acquire the reputation of courage from not fearing these, nor will he acquire it if he be exempt from fear when about to be scourged. Again, if a man be afraid of envy from others, or of insults to his children or wife, he will not for thac reason be regarded as a coward. It is by being superior to the fear of great evils, that a man is extolled as courageous ; and the greatest of evils is death, since it is a final close, as well of good as of evil. Hence the dangers of war are the greatest occasion of courage. But the cause must be honourable (VI. •. Thus the key to true courage is the quality or merit of the action. That man is brave, who both fears, and affronts COURAGE INCLUDES SELF-SACRIFICE. 75 without fear, what he ought and when he ought : who suffers and acts according to the value of the cause, and according to a right judgment of it. The opp^sites or extremes of courage include (1) Deficiency of fear; (2) Excess of fear, cowardice ; (8) Deficiency of daring, another formula for cowardice ; (4) Excess of daring, Rashness. Between these. Courage is the mean (VIL). Aristotle enumerates fi.ve analogous forms of quasi-courage, approaching more or less to '.:enuine courage. (1) The first, most like to the true, is political courage, which is moved to encounter danger by the Punishments and the Honours of society. The desire of honour rises to virtue, and is a noble spring of action. (2) A second kind is the effect of Experi- ence, which dispels seeming terrors, and gives skill to meet real danger. (8) Ajiger, Spirit, Energy {Ov/x6), in the matter of property, is the mean of Prodigality and II liberality. The right uses of money are spending and giving. Liberality consists in giving willingly, from an honourable motive, to proper persons, in proper quantities, and at proper times ; each individual case being measured by correct reason. If such measure be not LIBERALITY. — MAGXIFICENC K. — MAGNANIMITY. 77 taken, or if the gift be not made willingly, it is not liberality. The liberal man is often so free as to leave little to himself. This virtue is one more frequent in the inheritors than in the makers of fortunes. Liberality beyond one's means is prodi- gality. The liberal man will receive only from proper sources and in proper quantities. Of the extremes, prodigality is more curable than illiberality. The faults of prodigality are, that it must derive supplies from improper sources; that it gives to the wrong objects, and is usually accompanied with intemperance. Illiberality is incurable : it is confirmed by age, and is more congenial to men generally than prodigality. Some of the illiberal fall short in giving — those called stingy, close-fisted, and so on ; but do not desire what belongs to other people. Others are excessive in receiving from all sources ; such are they that ply disreputable trades (I.). Magnificence (/ne~i(i\o7rpe7rec'a) is a grander kind of Liber- ality ; its characteristic is greatness of expenditure, with suit- ableness to the person, the circumstances, and the purpose. The magnificent man takes correct measure of each ; he is in his wav a man of science (o ^e ixe^iaXoTrpeiri^^ iTria-Triixovi eome — II.). The' motive must be honourable, the outlay unstinted, and the effect artistically splendid. -The service of the gods, hospitality to foreigners, public works, and gifts, are proper occasions. Magnificence especially becomes the well-born and the illustrious. The house of the magnificent man will be of suitable splendour ; everything that he does will show taste and propriety. The extremes, or corresponding defects of character, are, on the one side, vulgar, tasteless profusion, and on the other, meanness or pettiness, which for some paltry saving will spoil the effect of a great outlay (II.). Magnanimity, or High-mindedness {fxe^iaXoylrvxtci), loftiness of spirit, is the culmination of the virtues. It is concerned with greatness. The high-minded man is one that, being worthy, rates himself at his real worth, and neither more (which is vanity) nor less (which is littleness of mind). Now, worth has reference to external goods, of which the greatest is honour. The high-minded man must be in the highest degree honourable, for which he must be a good man ; honour being the prize of virtue. He will accept honour only from the good, and will despise dishonour, knowing it to be undeserved. In all good or bad fortune, he will behave with moderation ; in not highly valuing even the highest thing of all, honour itself, he may seem to others supercilious. Wealth and fortune contri- bute to high-mindedness ; but most of all, superior goodness; 78 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — ARISTOTLE. Im 1 for the character cannot exist without perfect virtue. The high-minded man neither shuns nor conns danger; nor is he indisposed to risk even his Hfe. He gives favours, but does not accept them ; he is proud to the great, but affable to the lowly. He attempts only great and important matters ; is open in friendship and in hatred ; truthful in conduct, with an ironical reserve. He talks little, either of himself or of others ; neither desiring his own praise, nor caring to utter blame. He wonders at nothing, bears no malice, is no gossip, llis movements are slow, his voice deep, his diction stately (III.). There is a nameless virtue, a mean between the two extremes of too much and too little ambition, or desire of honour ; the reference being to smaller matters and to ordi- nary men. The fact that both extremes are made terms of reproach, shows that there is a just mean ; while each extreme alternately claims to be the virtue, as against the other, since there is no term to express the mean (IV.). Mildness {Trpaon^^) is a mean state with reference to Anger, although inclining to the defective side. The exact mean, which has no current name, is that state wherein the agent is free from perturbation (ot^yjo;^©?), is not impelled by pas- sion, but guided by reason ; is angry when he ought, as he ought, with whom, and as long as, he ought: taking right measure of all the circumstances. Not to Idc angry on the proper provocation, is folly, insensibility, slavish sub- mission. Of those given to excess in anger, some are quick, impetuous, and soon appeased; others are sulky, repressing and perpetuating their resentment. It is not easy to define the exact mean ; each case must be left to individual per- ception (V.). The next virtue is Good-breeding in society, a balance between surliness on the one hand, and weak assent or inter- ested flattery on the other. It is a nameless virtue, resem- bling friendship without the special affection. Aristotle shows what he considers the bearingf of the finished e^entle- man, studying to give pleasure, and jet expressing disappro- bation when it would be wrong to do otherwise (VI.). Closely allied to the foregoing is the observance of a due mean, in the matter of Boastfulness. The boastful lay claim to what they do not possess ; false modesty (etpwinia) is deny- ing or underrating one's own merits. The balance of the two is the straightforward and truthful character ; asserting just what belongs to him, neither more nor less. This is a kind of truthfulness, — distinguished from ' truth' in its more JUSTICE— DISTKIBUTIVE AND CORRECTIVE. 79 Berions aspect, as discriminating between justice and injustice — and has a worth of its own ; for he that is truthful in little things will be so in more important affairs (VII.). In the playful intercourse of society, there is room for the virtue of Wit, a balance or mean between buffoonish excess, and the clownish dulness that can neither make nor enjoy a joke. Here the man of refinement must be a law to himself (VIII.). Modesty (alcw^) is briefly described, without being put through the comparison with its extremes. It is more a feeling than a state, or settled habit. It is the fear of ill- report ; and has the physical expression of fear under danger — the blushing and the pallor. It befits youth as the age of passion and of errors. In the old it is no virtue, as they should do nothing to be ashamed of (IX.). Book Fifth (the first of the so-called Eudemian books), treats of Justice, the Social virtue by pre-eminence. Justice as a virtue is defined, the state of mind, or moral disposition, to do what is just. The question then is —what is the just and the unjust in action? The words seem to have more senses than one. The just may be (1) the Lawful, what is estab- lished by law; which includes, therefore, all obedience, and all moral virtue (for every kind of conduct came under public regulation, in the legislation of Plato and Aristotle). Or (2) the just may be restricted to the fair and equitable as regards property. In both senses, however, justice concerns our be- haviour to some one else : and it thus stands apart from the other virtues, as (essentially and in its first character) seeking another's good — not the good of the agent himself (I.). The first kind of justice, which includes all virtue, called Universal Justice, being set aside, the enquiry is reduced to the Particular Justice, or Justice proper and distinctive. Of this there are two kinds. Distributive and Corrective (II.) • Distributive Justice is a kind of equality or proportion in the distribution of property, honours, &c., in the State, according to the merits of each citizen ; the standard of worth or merit being settled by the constitution, whether democratic, oli- garchic, or aristocratic (HI.). Corrective, or Keparative Justice takes no account of persons ; but, looking at cases where unjust loss or gain has occurred, aims to restore the balance, by striking an arithmetical mean (IV.). The Pytha- gorean idea, that Justice is Retaliation, is inadequate ; pro- portion and other circumstances must be included. Propor- tionate Retaliation, or Reciprocity of services, — as in the case 80 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — ARISTOTLE. of Commercial Exchange, meastired throngh the instrument of money, with its definite value, — is set forth as the great bond of society. Just dealing is the mean between doing injustice and suffering injustice (V.). Justice is definitely connected with Law, and exists only between citizens of the State, and not between father and children, master and slave, between whom there is no law proper, but only a sort of rela- tion analogous to law (VI.). Civil Justice is partly Natural, partly conventional. The natural is what has the same force everywhere, whether accepted or not ; the conventional varies with institutions, acquirins- all its force from adoption by law, and being in itself a matter of indifference prior to such adoption. Some persons regard all Justice as thus conventional. They say — ' What exists by nature is un- changeable, and has everywhere the same power ; for example, fire burns alike in Persia and here ; but we see regulations of justice often varied — differing here and there,' This, however, is not exactly the fact, though to a certain extent it is the fact. Among the gods indeed, it perhaps is not the fact at all : but among men, it is true that there exists something by nature changeable, though everything is not so. Neverthe- less, there are some things existing by nature, other things not by nature. And we can plainly see, among those matters that admit of opposite arrangement, which of them belong to nature and which to law and convention ; and the same distinction will tit in other cases also. Thus the right hand is by nature more powerful than the left ; yet it is possible that all men may become ambidextrous. Those regulations of justice that are not by nature, but by human appointment, are not the same everywhere ; nor is the political constitution everywhere the same ; yet there is one political constitution only that is by nature the best everywhere (VI f.). To constitute Justice and Injustice in acts, the acts must be voluntary ; there being degrees of culpability in injustice according to the intention, the premeditation, the greater or less knowledge of circumstances. The act that a person does may perhaps be unjust ; but he is not, on that account, always to be regarded as an unjust man (VIII.). Here a question arises, Can one be injured voluntarily ? It seems not, for what a man consents to is not injury. Nor can a person injure himself. Injury is a relationship between two pai^ties (IX.). Equity does not contradict, or set aside, Justice, but is a higher and finer kind of justice, coming in where the law is too rough and general. THE INTELLECTUAL EXCELLENCES OR VIRTUES. 81 Book Sixth treats of Intellectual Excellence^, (v Virtues of the Intellect. It thus follows out the large definition of virtue qiven at the outset, and repeated m detail as coucernu each of the ethical or moral virtues successively. According- to the views most received at present, Morality is an affair of conscience and sentiment ; little or nothing ia said about estimating the full circumstances and consequences of each act, except that there is no time to calculate correctly, and that the attempt to do so is generally a pretence for evad- ing the peremptory order of virtuous sentiment, which, if faith- fully obeyed, ensures vdrtuous action in each particular case. If these views be adopted, an investigation of our intellectual excellences would find no place in a treatise on Ethics. But the theory of Aristotle is altogether different. Though be recognizes Emotion and Intellect as inseparably implicated in the mind of Ethical agents, yet the sovereign authority that he proclaims is not Conscience or Sentiment, but Reason. The subordination of Sentiment to Reason is with him essential. Jt is true that Reason must be supplied with First Principles, whence to take its start; and these First Principles are here declared to be, fixed emotional states or dispositions, engendered in the mind of the agent by a suc- cession of similar acts. But even these dispositions them- selves, though not belonging to the department of Reason, are not exempt from the challenge and scrutiny of Reason ; while the proper application of the-n in act to the complicated realities of life, is the work of Reason altogether. Such an ethical theory calls upon Aristotle to indicate, more or less fully, those intellectual excellences, whereby alone we are enabled to overcome the inherent diflB.culties of right ethical conduct ; and he indicates them in the present Book, compar- ino- them with those other intellectual excellences which guide our theoretical investigations, where conduct is not directly concerned. In specifying the ethical excellences, or excellences of dis- position, we explained that each of them aimed to realize a mean— and that this mean was to be determined by Right Reason. To find the mean, is thus an operation of the Intel- lect ; and we have now to explain what tlie right performance of it is, — or to enter upon the Excellences of the Intellect. The soul having been divided into Irrational and Rational, the Rational must farther be divided into two parts, — the Scientific (dealing with necessary matter), the Calculative, or Deliberative (dealing with contingent matter). We must 82 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — ARISTOTLE. touch upon the excellence or best condition of both of them (T.). There are three principal functions of the soul — Sensation, Reason, and Appetite or Desire. Now, Sensation (which beasts have as well as men) is not a principle of moral action. The Reason regards truth and falsehood only; it does not move to action, it is not an end in itself. Appetite or Desire, which aims at an end, introduces us to moral action. Truth and Falsehood, as regards Reason, correspond to Good and Evil as regards Appetite : Affirmation and Negation, with the first, are the analogues of Pursuit and Avoidance, with the second. In purpose, which is the principle of moral action, there is included deliberation or calculation. Reason and Appetite are thus combined ; Good Purpose comprises both true affirmation and right pursuit : you may call it either an Intelligent Appe- tite, or an Appetitive Intelligence. Such is man, as a principle of action (?y Toiaviij ap-y^Yi av6pu)7roo(Ti'j/>/)— appetite and passion perfectly harmonized with reason. (3) Continence (er-/hpd7eia) or the mastery of reason, after a struggle. (4) Incontinence, the mastery of appetite or passion, but not without a struggle. (5) Vice, reason perverted so as to harmonize entirely with appetite or passion. (6) Bestiality, naked appetite or passion, without reason. Certain prevalent opinions are enumerated, which are to form the subject of the discussions following — (1) Continence and endurance are morally good. (2) The Continent man sticks to his opinion. (3) The Incontinent err knowingly. (4) Temperance and Continence are the same. (5) Wise and clever men may be Incontinent. (6) Incontinence applies to other things than Pleasure, as anger, honour, and gain (I.). The third point (the Incontinent sin knowingly) is first mooted. Sokrates held the contrary; he made vice and ignorance convertible. Others think that the knowledge possessed by the incontinent is mere opinion, or a vague and weak conviction. It is objected to No. 4, that continence implies evil desires to be controlled ; while temperance means the character fully harmonized. As to No. 2, Con- tinence must often be bad, if it consists in sticking to an opinion (II.). The third point, the only question of real interest or diffi- culty, is resumed at greater length. The distinction between MORAI. STRENGTH AND MORAL WEAKNESS. 87 knowledge and opinion (the liigher and the lower kinds of knowledge) does not settle the qnestion, for opinion may be as strong as knowledge. The real point is, what is meant hj leaving knowledge ? A man's knowledge may be in abeyance, as it is when he is asleep or intoxicated. Thas, we may have in the mind two knowledges (like two separate syllogisms), one leading to continence, the other to incontinence ; the hrsb is not drawn out, like the syllogism wanting a minor ; hence it may be said to be not present to the mind ; so that, in a certain sense, Sokrates was right in denying that actual and present knowledge could be overborne. Vice is a form of oblivion (HI.). The next question is, what is the object-matter of incon- tinence ; whether there is any man incontinent simply and absolutely (without any specification of wherein), or whether all incontinent men are so in regard to this or that particular matter? (No. 6). The answer is, that it applies directly to the bodily appetites and pleasures, which are necessary up to a certain point (the sphere of Temperance), and then he that commits unreasonable excess above this point is called Incon- tinent simply. But if he commits excess in regard to plea- sures, which, though not necessary, are natural and, up to a certain point, reasonable — such as victory, wealth, honour — • we designate him as incontinent, yet with a specification of the particular matter (IV.). The modes of Bestiality, as cannibalism and unnatural passion, are ascribed to morbid depravity of nature or of habits, analogous to disease or madness (V.). Incontinence in anger is not so bad as Incontinence in lust, because anger (1) has more semblance of reason, (2) is more a matter of constitution, (3) has less of deliberate pur- pose — wliile lust is crafty, (4) arises under pain, and not from wantonness (VI.). Persons below the average in resisting iileasures are in- continent; those below the average in resisting pains are soft or effeminate. The mass of men mcline to both weaknesses. He that deliberately pursues excessive pleasures, or other pleasures in an excessive way, is said to be abandoned. The in- temperate are -worse than the incontinent. Sport, in its exces.^, is effeminacy, as being relaxation from toil. There are two kinds of incontinence : the one proceeding from precipitancy, where a man acts without deliberating at all ; the other from feeble- ness, — where he deliberates, but where the result of deliberation is too weak to countervail his appetite (VII.). Intemperance or 88 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — AEISTOTLE. profligacy is more vicious, and less curable than Incontinence. The profligate man is one who has in him no principle {(ipx'l) of good or of right reason, and who does wrong without after- wards repenting of it ; the incontinent man has the good principle in him, but it is overcome when he does wrong, and he afterwards repents (VIII.). Here, again, Aristotle denies that sticking to one's opinions is, per se, continence. The opinion may be wrong ; in that case, if a man sticks to it, prompted by mere self-assertion and love of victory, it is a species of incontinence. One of the virtues of the continent man is to be open to persuasion, and to desert one's resolu- tions for a noble end (IX.). Incontinence is like sleep or drunkenness as opposed to wakefal knowledge. The incon- tinent man is like a state having good laws, but not acting on them. The incontinence of passion is more curable than that of weakness ; what proceeds from habit more than what is natural (X.). The Eighth and Ninth Books contain the treatise on Friendship. The subject deserves a place in an Ethical treatise, because of its connexion with virtue and with happiness. Several questions have been debated concerning Friendship, — Is it based on likeness or unlikeness ? Can bad men be friends ? Is there but one species of Friendship, or more than one ? (I.) Some progress towards a solution of these questions may be made by considering what are the objects of liking ; these are the good, the pleasant, the useful. By the good is not meant the absolute good of Plato, but the ap- parent good. Inanimate things must be excluded, as wanting reciprocation (II.). The varieties of friendship follow these three modes of the likeable. The friendships for the useful and the pleasant, are not disinterested, but self-seeking ; they are therefore accidental and transitory ; they do not involve intimate and frequent association. Friendship for the good, and between the virtuous, is alone perfect ; it is formed slowly, and has the requisites of permanence. It occurs rarely (III.). As regards the useful and the pleasant, the bad may be friends. It may happen that two persons are mutually pleasant to each other, as lover and beloved ; while this lasts, there is friend- Bhip. It is only as respects the good, that there exists a per- manent liking for the person. Such friendship is of an abso- lute nature; the others are accidental (IV.). Friendship isia fall exercise only during actual intercourse ; it may exist potentially at a distance ; but in long absence, there is danger CONDITIONS OF FPvIENDSHIP. 89 of its being dissolved. Friendship is a settled state or habit, while fondness is a mere passion, wnich does not imply oar wishin'jr to do ^ood to the object of it, as friendsliip does (V.). The perfect kind of friendship, from its intensity, cannot be exercised towards more than a small numbei'. In regard to the asetul and the pleasant, on the other hand, there may be friendship with many ; as the friendship towards tradesmea and between the yoang. The happy desire pleasant friends. Men in power have two classes of friends ; one for the useliil, the othdr for the pleasant. Both qualities are found in thee good man ; bat he will not be the friend of a superior, unlessa he be surpassed (by that superior) in virtue also. In all thet kinds of friendship now specified there is equality (VI.)- Theria are friendships where one party is superior, as father and son-s older and younger, husband and wife, governor and governed. , In such cases there should be a proportionably greater lovei on the part of the inferior. When the love on each side is- proportioned to the merit of the party beloved, then we have a certain species of equality, which is an ingredient in friend- ship. But equality in matters of friendship, is not quite the same as equality in matters of justice. In matters of justice, equality proportioned to merit stands first — equality between man and man (no account being taken of comparative merit) stands only second. In friendship, the case is the re- verse ; the perflection of friendship is equal love between the friends towards each other ; to have greater love' on one side, by reason of and proportioned to superior merit, is friendship only of the second grade. This will be evident if we reflect that extreme inequality renders friendship impossible — as be- tween private men and kings or gods. Hence the friend can scarcely wish for his friend the maximum of good, to become a god ; such extreme elevation would terminate the friend- ship. Nor will he wish his friend to possess all the good ; for every one wishes most for good to self (VII.). The essence of friendship is to love rather than to be loved, as seen in mothers ; but the generality of persons desire rather to be loved, which is akin to being honoured (although honour is partly sought as a sign of future favours). By means of love, as already said, unequal friendships may be equalized. Friend- ship with the good, is based on equality and similarity, neither party ever desiring base services. Friendships for the useful are based on the contrariety of fulness and defect, as poor and rich, ignorant and knowing (VIII.). Friendship is an inci- dent of political society ; men associating together for common 90 ETHICAL SYSTEMS —ARISTOTLE. ends, "become friends. Political jnstice becomes more binding when men are related bj friendship. The state itself is a com- munity for the sake of advantage ; the expedient to all is the just. In the large society of the state, there are many inferior societies for buisiiiess, and for pleasure : friendship starts up in all (IX.). There are three forms of Civil Government, with a characteristic declension or perversion of each : — Mon irchy passing into Despotism; Aristocracy into OH- ' garcLiy ; Tiaioci'acy (based on wealth) into democracy ; parent 1 and child typifies the first ; husband and wife the second ; brothers the third (X.). The monarch ial or paternal type ^aas superiority on one side, and demands honour as well as -^Sve on the other. In aristocracy, the relation is one of merit, .\nd the greater love is given to the better. In timocracy, and ^among brothers, there is equality ; and hence the most fre- quent friendships. There is no friendship towards a slave, as ^a slave, for, as such he is a mere animate tool (XI.). In the ■^ relations of the family, friendship varies with the diiferenfc situations. Parents love their children as a part of themselves, and from the first; children grow to love their parents. Brothers are affected by their community of origin, as well as by common education and habits of intimacy. Husband and wife come together by a natural bond, and as mutual helps ; their friend- ship contains the useful and the pleasant, and, with virtue, the good. Their offspring strengthens the bond (XII.). The friendships that give rise to complaints are confined to the Useful. Such friendships involve a legal element of strict and measured reciprocity [mere trade], and a moral or unwritten understanding, which is properly friendship. Each party is apt to give less and expect more than he gets ; and the rule must be for each to reciprocate liberally and fully, in such manner and kind as they are able (XIII.). In unequal friend- ships, between a superior and inferior, the inferior has the greater share of material assistance, the superior should re- ceive the greater honour (XIY.). Book Ninth proceeds without any real break. It may not be always easy to fix the return to be made for services re- ceived. Protagoras, the sophist, left it to his pupils to settle the amount of fee that he should receive. When there is no agree- m.ent, we must render what is in our power, for example, to the gods and to our parents (I.). Cases may arise of conflicting obligation ; as, shall W3 prefer a friend to a deserving man ? shall a person robbed reciprocate to robbers ? and others. [We have here the germs of Casuistry.] (II.) As to the termina- VARIETIES OF FRIENDSHIP. 91 tion of Friendship ; in the oase of the useful and the pleasant, the connexion ceases with the motives. In the case of the good, it may happen that one party counterfeits tlie good, but is really acting the useful or the pleasant; or one party may turn out wicked, and the only question is, how far hopes of his improve- ment shall be entertained. Again, one may continue the same, while the other makes larg^e advances in mental training^: how far shall present disparity operate against old associalions ? (III.). There is a sort of illustrative parallelism between the feelings and acts of friendship, and the feelings and acts of self-love, or of a good man to himself. The virtuous man wishes what is good for himself, especially for his highest part — the intellect or thinking part ; he desires to pass his life in the company of his own thoughts ; he sympathizes with his own sorrows. On the other hand, the bad choose the pleasant, although it be hurtful; they fly from themselves; their own thoughts are unpleasant companions ; they are full of repent- ance (IV.). Good-will is different from friendship ; it is a sudden impulse of feeling towards some distinguished or like- able quality, as in an antagonist. It has not the test of longing in absence. It may be the prelude to friendship (Y.). Unanimity, or agreement of opinion, is a part of fiieudship. Not as regards mere speculation, as about the heavenly bodies; but in practical matters, where interests are at stake, sach as the politics of the day. This unanimity cannot occur in the bad, from their selfish and grasping disposition (VI.). The position is next examined — that the love felt by benefactors is stronger than the love felt by those bene- fitted. It is not a sufficient explanation to say, the bene- factor is a creditor, who wishes the prosperity of his debtor. Benefactors are like workmen, who love their own work, and the exercise of their own powers. They also have the feeling of nobleness on their side ; while the recipient has the less lovable idea of profit. Finally, activity is more akin to love than recipiency (VII.). Another question raised for discussion is — ' Ought a man to love himself most, or another ? ' On the one hand, selfishness is usually con- demned as the feature of bad men ; on the other hand, the feelings towards self are made the standard of the feelings towards friends. The solution is given thus. There is a lower self (predominant with most men) that gratifies the appetites, seeking wealth, power, &c. With the select few, there is a higher self that seeks the honourable, the noble, in- tellectual excellence, at any cost of pleasure, wealth, honour, 92 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— ARISTOTLE. &c. These noble-minded men procure for themselves the greater good by sacrificing the less : and their self-sacrifice is thus a mode of self. It is the duty of the good man to love himself: for his noble life is profitable, both to himself, and to others ; but the bad man ought not to love himself. [Self-sacrifice, formerly brought under Courage, is here depicted from another point of view] (YIII.). By way of bringing out the advantages of friendship, it is next asked. Does the happy man need friends ? To this, it is answered, (1) That happiness, being the sum of all human good, must suppose the possession of the greatest of external goods, which is friendship. (2) The happy man will require friends as recipients of liis overflow of kindness. (3) He cannot be expected either to be solitary, or to live with strangers. (4) The highest play of existence is to see the acts of another in harmony with self. (5) Sympathy supports and prolongs the glow of one's own emotions. (G) A friend confirms us in the practice of virtue. (7) The sense of existence in ourselves is enlarged by the consciousness of another's existence (IX.). The number of friends is again considered, and the same barriers stated — the impossibility of sharing among many the highest kind of affection, or of keeping up close and har- monious intimacy. The most renowned friendships are be- tween pairs (X.). As to whether friends are most needed in adversity or in prosperity — in the one, friendship is more ne- cessary, in the other more glorious (XI.). The essential support and manifestation of friendship is Intercourse. What- ever people's tastes are, they desire the society of others in exercising them (XII.). Book Tenth discusses Pleasure, and lays down as the highest and perfect pleasure, the exercise of the Intellect in Philosophy. Pleasure is deserving of consideration, from its close inti- macy with the constitution of our race ; on which account, in our training of youth, we steer them by pleasure and pain ; and it is of the first importance that they should feel pleasure in what they ought, and displeasure in what they ought, as the groundwork (or princijnum) of good ethical dispositions. Such a topic can never be left unnoticed, especially when we look at the great difference of opinion thereupon. Some affirm pleasure to be the chief good [Eudoxus]. Others call it altogether vile and worthless [party of SpeusippusJ. Of these last, some perhaps really think so ; but the rest are actuated by the necessity of checking men's too great proneness to it> THEORIES OF PLEASURE. 93 and disparage it on that account. This policy Aristotle strongly censures, and contends for the superior efficacy of truth ([.). The arguments urged by Eudoxus as proving pleasure to be the chief good, are, (1) That all beings seek pleasure; (2) and avoid its opposite, pain; (3) that they seek pleasure as an end-in-itself, and not as a means to any farther end. ; (1) that pleasure, added to any other good, such as jus- tice or temperance, increases the amount of good ; which could not be the case, unless pleasure were itself good. Yet this last argument (Aristotle urges) proves pleasure to be a good, but not to be the Good ; indeed, Plato urged the same argument, to show that pleasure could not be The Good : since The Good (the Chief Good) must be something that does not admit of being enhanced or made more good. The objection of Speusippus, — that irrational creatures are not to be admitted as witnesses, — Aristotle disallows, seeing that rational and irrational agree on the point ; and the thing that seems to all, must be true. Another objection. That the opposite of pain is not pleasure, but a neutral state — is set aside as contradicted by the fact of human desire and aversion, the two opposite states of feeling (II.). The arguments of the Platonists, to prove that pleasure is not good, are next examined. (1) Pleasure, they say, is not a quality ; but neither (replies Aristotle) are the exercises or actual manifestations of virtue or happiness. (2) Plea- sure is not definite, but unlimited, or admitting of degrees, while The Good is a something definite, and does not admit of degrees. But if these reasoners speak about the pure plea- sures, they might take objection on similar grounds against virtue and justice also ; for these too admit of degrees, and one man is more virtuous than another. And if they speak of the mixed pleasures (alloyed with pain), their reasoning will not apply to the unmixed. Good health is acknowledged to be a good, and to be a definite something ; yet then; are nevertheless some men more healthy, some less. (3) The Good is perfect or complete ; but objectors urge that no motion or generation is complete, and pleasure is in one of these two categories. This last assertion Aristotle denies. Pleasure is not a motion ; for the attribute of velocity, greater or less, which is essential to all motion, does not attach to pleasure A man may be quick in becoming pleased, or in becoming angry ; but in the act of being pleased or angry, he can neither be quick nor slow. Nor is it true that pleasure is a genera- 94 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — ARISTOTLE. fcion. In all generation, there is something assignable out of which generation takes place (not any one thing ont of any- other), and into which it reverts by destruction. If pleasure be a generation, pain must be the destruction of what is generated ; but this is not correct, for pain does not re-establish the state antecedent to the pleasure. Accordingly, it is not true that pleasure is a generation. Some talk of pain as a want of something required by nature, and of pleasure as a filling up of that want. But these are corporeal, not mental facts, and are applicable only to eating and drinking; not applicable to many other pleasures, such, as those of sight, hearing, or learning. (4) There are some disgraceful plea- sures. Aristotle replies that these are not absolutely and pro- perly pleasures, but only to the depraved man ; just as things are not yellow, which appear so to men in a jaundice. Pleasures differ from each other in species : there are good pleasures, i.e., those arising from good sources ; and bad pleasures, i.e., from bad sources. The pleasure j:)er se is always desir- able ; but not when it comes from objectionable acts. The pleasures of each man will vary according to his character ; none but a musical man can enjoy the pleasures of music. No one would consent to remain a child for life, even though he were to have his fill of childish pleasure. Aristotle sums up the result thus. Pleasure is not The Good. Not every mode of pleasure is to be chosen. Some pleasures, distinguished from the rest specifically or according to their sources, are to be chosen per se (HI.)- He then attempts to define pleasure. It is something per- fect and complete in itself, at each successive moment of time ; hence it is not motion, which is at every moment incomplete. Pleasure is like the act of vision, or a point, or a monad, always complete in itself. It accompanies every variety of sensible perception, intelligence, and theorizing contemplation. In each of these faculties, the act is more perfect, according as the subjective element is most perfect, and the object most grand and dignified. When the act is most perfect, the plea- sure accompanying it is also the most perfect ; and this plea- snre puts the finishing consummation to the act. The pleasure is not a pre-existing acquirement now brought into exercise, but an accessory end implicated with the act, like the fresh look which belongs to the organism just matured. It is a sure adjunct, so long as subject and object are in good condition. But continuity of pleasure, as well as of the other exercises, is impossible. Life is itself an exercise much diversified, and PLEASURES OF THE INTELLECT THE REAL PLEASURES. 95 each man follows the diversity that is suitable to his own inclination — music, study, &c Ej,cb has its accessory and consummating mode of pleasure ; and to say that all men desire pleasure, is the same as saying that all men desire life. It is no real question to ask— Do we choose life for the sake of pleasure, or pleasure for the sake of life ? The truth is, that the two are implicated and inseparable (IV.). As our acts or exercises differ from each other specifically, so also the pleasures that are accessory to them differ speci- fically. Exercises intellectual differ from exercises perceptive, and under each head there are varieties differing from each other. The pleasures accessory and consummating to each, are diversified accordingly. Each pleasure contributes to invigorate and intensify the particular exercise that it is at- tached to ; the geometer who studies his science with pleasure becomes more acute and successful in prosecuting it. On the other hand, the pleasures attached to one exercise impede the mind in regard to other exercises ; thus men fond of the flute cannot listen to a speaker with attention, if any one is playing the flute near them. What we delight in doing, we are more likely to do well ; what we feel pain in doing, we are not likely to do well. And thus each variety of exercise is alike impeded by the pains attached to itself, and by the pleasures attached to other varieties. Among these exercises or acts, some are morally good, others morally bad ; the desires of the good are also praise- worthy, the desires of the bad are blameable ; but if so, much more are the pleasures attached to the good exercises, good pleasures — and the pleasures attached to the bad exercises, bad pleasures. For the pleasures attached to an exercise are more intimately identified with that exercise than the desire of it can be. The pleasure of the exercise, and the exercise itself, are indeed so closely identified one with the other, that to many they appear the same. Sight, hearing, and smell, differ in purity from touch and taste ; and the pleasures attached to each differ in like manner. The pleasures of intellect difiTer from those of sense, as these two exercises differ from one another. Every animal has its own peculiar pleasures, as it has also its own peculiar manifestation and exercises. Among the human race, the same things give pleasure to one indi- vidual and pain to another. The things that appear sweet to the strong and healthy man, do not appear sweet to one suffering from fever, or weakly. Now. amidst this discrep- ancy, what appears to the virtuous and intelligent man, really 96 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — AEISTOTLE. is. His pleasures are the true and real pleasures. Excellence, and the good man qudtenus good, are to be taken as the standard. If what he abhors appears pleasurable to some persons, we must not be sur^orised, since there are many de- pravations of individuals, in one way or another ; but these things are not pleasures really, they are only pleasures to these depraved mortals (V.). So far the theory of Pleasure. Aristotle now goes back to his starting point — the nature of the Good, and Happiness. He re-states his positions : That Happiness is an exercise or actuality (eVp/>7e/«), and not an acquirement or state (e'^>) , Tliat it belongs to such exercises as are worthy of choice for their own sake, and not to such as are worthy of choice for the sake of something else ; That it is perfect and self- sufficing, seeking nothing beyond itself, and leaving no wants unsupplied. Hence he had concluded that it consisted in acting according to virtue ; for the honourable and good are chosen for their own sake. But amusements are also sought for their own sake ; Are these also to be called happi- ness ? Ko. It is true that they are much pursued by those whom the vulgar envy — men of wealth and despots — who patronize and reward the practitioners of amusement. But this proves nothing, for we cannot adopt the choice of these despots, who have little virtue or intellect, and have never known the taste of refined and liberal pleasure. Child- ren and mature men, bad men and virtuous, have each their different pleasures ; the virtuous and intelligent man finds a lii'a of excellence and the pleasures attached thereunto most worthy of his choice, and such a man (Aristotle has declared more than once) is our standard. It would indeed be childish to treat amusements as the main end of life ; they are the relax- ation of the virtuous man, who derives from them fresh vigour for the prosecution of the serious business of life, which he cannot prosecute continuously. The serious exercises of life are better than the comic, because they proceed from the better part of man. The slave may enjoy bodily pleasures to the full, but a slave is not called happy (VI ). We have thus shown that Happiness consists in exercise or actual living according to excellence; naturall}'^, therefore, according to the highest excellence, or the excellence of the best part of man. This best part is the Intellect (Norower, the Stoics meant, things that we could do or acquire, if we willed : by things not in our power, they meant, things that we could not do or acquire if we willed. In both cases, the volition was assumed as a fact : the question, what determined it — or whether it was non- determined, i.e. self-determining — was not raised in the above- mentioned antithesis. But it was raised in other discussions between the Stoic theorist Chrysippus, and various opponents. These opponents denied that volition was determined by motives, and cited the cases of equal conflicting motives (what is known as the ass of Buridan) as proving that the soul includes in itself, and exerts, a special supervenient power of deciding action in one way or the other ; a power not determined by any causal antecedent, but self- originating, and belonging to the class of agency that Aristotle recog- nizes under the denomination of automatic, spontaneous (or essentially irregular and unpredictable). Chrysippus replied by denying not only the reality of this supervenient force said to be inherent in the soul, but also the reality of all that Aristotle called automatic or spontaneous agency generally. Chrysippus said that every movement was determined by antecedent motives ; that in cases of equal conflict, the exact equality did not long continue, because some new but slight motive slipped in unperceived and turned the scale on one side or the other. (See Plutarch De Stoicorum Repug- nantiis, c. 23, p. 1045.) Here, we see, the question now known as the Freedom of the Will is discussed : and Chrysippus declares against it, affirming that volition is always determined by motives. But we also see that, while declaring this opinion, Chrysippus does not employ the terms Necessity or Freedom of the Will : neither did his opponents, so far as we can see : they had a different and less misleading phrase. By Freedom, Chrysippus and the Stoics meant the freedom of doing what a man willed, if he willed it. A man is free, as to the thing that is in his power, when he wills it; he is not free, as to what is not in his power, under the same sup- position. The Stoics laid great stress on this distinction. They pointed out how much it is really in a man's power to transform or discipline his own mind: in the way of FREEDOM OF THE WILL. 105 controlling or suppressing some emotions, generating or en- couraging others, forming new intellectual associations, &c., how much a man could do in these ways, if he willed it, and if he went throui^-h the lessons, habits of conduct, meditations, suitable to produce such an effect. The Stoics strove to create in a man's mind the volitions appropriate for such mental discipline, by depicting the beneticial conseque.ices resulting from it, and the misfortune and shame inevitable, if the mind were not so disciplined. Their purpose was to strengthen the governing reason of his mind, and to enthrone it as a fixed habit and character, which would control by counter suggestions the impulse arising at each special moment — particularly all disturbing terrors or allurements. This, in. their view, is a free mind ; not one wherein volition is independent of all motive, but one wherein the susceptibility to different motives is tempered by an ascendant reason, so as to g'ive predominance to the better motive against the worse. One of the strongest motives that they endeavoured to enforce, was the prudence and dignity of bringing our volitions into harmony with the schemes of Providence : which (they said) were always arranged with a view to the happiness of the kosmos on the whole. The bad man, whose volitions conflict with these schemes, is always baulked of his expectations, and brought at last against his will to see things carried by an overruling force, with aggravated pain and hum.iliation to hiiuself: while the good man, who re- signs himself to them from the first, always escapes with less pain, and often without any at all. Ducunt volentem fata, nolentem trahunt. We have thus seen that in regard to the doctrine called in modern times the Freedom of the Will (i.e., that volitions are self- originating and unpredictable), the Stoic theorists not only denied it, but framed all their Ethics upon the assumption of the contrary. This same assumption of the contrary, indeed, was made also by Sokrates, Plato, Aristotle, and Epicurus : in short, by all the ethical teachers of antiquity. All of them believed that volitions depended on causes : that under the ordinary conditions of men's minds, the causes that voli- tions generally depended upon are often misleading and some- times ruinous : but that by proper stimulation from without and meditation within, the rational causes of volition might be made to overrule the impulsive. Plato, Aristotle, Epicurus, not less than the Stoics, wished to create new fixed habits and a new type of character. They differed, indeed, -on the 106 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— THE SIOICS. question what the proper type of character was : but each of them aimed at the same general end — a new type of character, regulating the grades of susceptibility to different motives. And the purpose of all and each of these moralists precludes the theory of free-will — i.e., the theory that our volitions are self- originating and unpredictable. III. — We must consider next the Stoical theory of Happi- ness, or rather of the Good, which with them was proclaimed to be the sole, indispensable, and self-sufficing condition of H'ppiness. They declared that Pleasure was no part of Good, and Pain no part of Evil ; therefore, that even relief from pain was not necessary to Good or Happiness. This, however, if followed out consistently, would dispense with all morality and all human endeavour. Accordingly, the Stoics were obliged to let in some pleasures as an object of pursuit, and some pains as an object of avoidance, though not under the title of Good and Evil, but with the inferior name of Sumenda and Eejicieiida.* Substantially, therefore, they held that pains are an evil, but, by a proper discipline, may be triumphed over. They disallowed the direct and ostensible pursuit of pleasure as an end (the point of view of Epicurus), but allured their followers partly by promising them the victory over pain, and partly by certain enjoyments of an elevated cast that grew out of their plan of life. Pain of every kind, whether from the casualties of exis- tence, or from the severity of the Stoical virtues, was to be met by a discipline of endurance, a hardening process, which, if persisted in, would succeed in reducing the mind to a state of Apathy or indifference. A great many reflections were suggested in aid of this education. The influence of exercise and repetition in adapting the system to any new function, was illustrated by the Olympian combatants, and by the Lace- daemonian youth, who endured scourging without complaint. Great stress was laid on the instability of pleasure, and the constant liability to accidents ; whence we should always be anticipating and adapting ourselves to the worst that could happen, so as never to be in a state where anything could ruffle the mind. It was pointed out how much might still be • Aristotle and th ; Peripatetics held that there were tria genera bon- orum : (1) Those oi the mind fniens sanaj, (2) those of the body, and (3) external advanta^^es. The Stoics altered this theory by saying that only the first of the three was bonum ; the others were merely prceposita or sumenda. The opponents of the Stoics contended that this was an altera- tion in words rather than in substance. THE STOICAL DISCIPLINE. 107 made of the worst circumstances — poverty, banish men t. public odium, sickness, old age — and every consideration was ad- vanced tliat could 'arm the obdurate breast with stubborn patience, as with triple steel.' It has often been remarked that such a discipline of endurance was peculiarly suited to the unsettled condition of the world at the time, when any man, in addition to the ordinary evils of life, might in a moment be sent into exile, or sold into slavery. Next to the discipline of endurance, we mast rank the complacent sentiment of Pride, which the Stoic might justly feel in his conquest of himself, and in his lofty independence and superiority to the casualties of iife.^ The pride of the Cynic, the Stoic's predecessor, was prominent and offensive, showing itself in scuriility and contempt towards everybody else ; the Stoical pride was a refinement upon this, but was still a grateful sentiment of superiority, which helped to make up for the surrender of indulgences. It was usual to bestow the most extravagant laudation on the ' Wise Man,' and every Stoic could take this home to the extent that he considered himself as approaching that great ideal. The last and most elevated form of Stoical happiness was the satisfaction of contemplating the Universe and Grod. Epictetus says, that we can accommodate ourselves cheerfully to the providence that rules the world, if we possess two things — the power of seeing all that happens in the proper relation to its own purpose — and a grateful disposition. The work of Antoninus is full of studies of Nature in the devout spirit of ' passing from Nature up to Nature's God ;' he is never weary of expressing his thorough contentment with the course of natural events, and his sense of the beauties and fitness of everything. Old age has its grace, and death is the becoming termination. This high strain of exulting contemplation reconciled him to that complete submission to whatever might befall, which was the essential feature of the * Life according to Nature,' as he conceived it. lY. — The Stoical theory of Virtue is implicated in the ideas of the Good, now described. The fountain of all virtue is manifestly the life according to nature ; as being the life of subordination of self to more general interests — to family, country, mankind, the whole • This also might truly be said of the Epicureans ; though with them it is not so much pn'de, as a quiet self-satisfaction in escaping pains and disappointments that they saw others enduring. See the beginning of Lucretius' t>econd book, and the last epistle of Epicurus to Idomeneua. 108 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — THE STOICS. universe. If a man is prepared to consider himself absolutely nothing in comparison with the universal interest, and to regard it as the sole end of life, he has embraced an ideal of virtue of the loftiest order. Accordingly, the Stoics were the first to preach what is called ' Cosmopolitanism ;' for although, in their reference to the good of the whole, they confounded together sentient life and inanimate objects — rocks, plants, &c., solicitude for which was misspent labour — yet they were thus enabled to reach the conception of the universal kind- ship of mankind, and could not but include in their regards the brute creation. They said: 'There is no difference between the Greeks and Barbarians ; the world is our city.' Seneca urges kindness to slaves, for ' are they not men like ourselves, breathing the same air, living and dying like ourselves ?' The Epicureans declined, as much as possible, interference in public affairs, but the Stoic philosophers urged men to the duties of active citizenship. Chrysippus even said that the life of philosophical contemplation (such as Aristotle preferred, and accounted godlike) was to be placed on the same level with the life of pleasure ; though Plutarch observes that neither Chrysippus nor Zeno ever meddled personally with any public duty ; both of them passed their lives in lec- turing and writing. The truth is that both of them were foreigners residing at Athens ; and at a time when Athens was dependent on forrij_,n princes. Accordingly, neither Zeno nor Chrysippus had any sphere of political action open to them ; they were, in this respect, like Epictetus afterwards — but in a position quite different from Seneca, the preceptor of Nero, who might hope to influence the great imperial power of Rome, and from Marcus Antoninus, who held that impe- rial powder in his own hands. Marcus Antoninus — not only a powerful Emperor, but also the most gentle and amiable man of his day — talks of active beneficence both as a duty and a satisfaction. But in the creed of the Stoics generally, active Beneficence did not occupy a prominent place. They adopted the four Cardinal Virtues — Wisdom, or the Knowledge of Good and Evil ; Justice ; Fortitude ; Temperance — as part of their jilan of the virtuous life, the life according to Nature. Justice, as the social virtue, was placed above all the rest. But the Stoics were not strenuous in requiring more than Justice, for the benefit of others beside the agent. They even reckoned compassion for the sufferings of others as a weakness, analogous to euvy for the good fortune of others. STOICAL VIEW OF BENEFICENCE. 109 The Stoic recognized the gods (or Universal Nature, equivalent expressions in his creed) as managing the afiairs of the world, with a view to producing as much happiness as was attainable on the whole. Towards this end the gods did not vvaijt any positive assistance from him ; but it was his duty and his strongest interest, to resign himself to their plans, and to abstain from all conduct tending to frustrate them. Such refractory tendencies were per- petually suggested to him by the unreasonable appetites, emotions, fears, antipathies, &c., of daily life j all claiming satisfaction at the expense of future mischief to himself and others. To countervail these misleading forces, by means of a fixed rational character built up through meditation and philosophical teaching, was the grand purpose of the Stoic ethical creed. The emotional or ar)petitive self was to be starved or cui'bed, and retained only as an appendage to the rational self ; an idea proclaimed before in general terms by Plato, but carried out into a sj^stem by the Stoics, and to a great extent even by the Epicureans. The Stoic was taught to reflect how much that appears to be desirable, terror-striking, provocative, &c., is not really so, but is made to appear so by false and curable asso- ciations. And whde he thus discouraged those self-regard- ing emotions that placed him in hostility with others, he learnt to respect the self of another man as well as his own. Epictetus advises to deal mildly with a man that hurts us either by word or deed; and advises it upon the following very remarkable ground. ' Recollect that in what he says or does, he follows his own sense of pro- priety, not yours. He must do what appears to him right, not w^hat appears to you ; if he judges wrongly, it is he that is hurt, for he is the person deceived. Always repeat to your- self, in such a case : The man has acted on his own opinion.' The reason here given by Epictetus is an instance, memor- able in ethical theory, of respect for individual dissenting con- viction, even in an extreme case ; and it must be taken in conjunction with his other doctrme, that damage thus done to us unjustly is really little or no damage, except so far as we ourselves give pungency to it by our irrational susceptibilities and associations. We see that the Stoic submerges, as much as he can, the pre-eminence of his own individual self, and contemplates himself from the point of view of another, only as one among many. But he does not erect the happiness of others into a direct object of his own positive pursuit, beyond no ETHICAL SYSTEMS — THE STOICS. the reciprocities of family, citizenship, and common humanity. The Stoic theorists agreed with Epicurus in inculcating the reciprocities of justice between all fellow -citizens ; and they even went farther than he did, by extending the sphere of such duties beyond the limits of city, so as to comprenend all mankind. But as to the reciprociiies of individual friendship, Epicurus went beyond the Stoics, by the amount of self-sacrifice and devotion that he enjoined for the benefit of a friend. There is also in the Stoical system a recognition of duties to God, and of morality as based on piety. Not only are we all brethren, but also the ' children of one Father.' The extraordinary strain put upon human nature by the full Stoic ideal of submerging self in the larger interests of being, led to various compromises. The rigid following out of the ideal issued in one of the paradoxes, namely, — That all the actions of the wise man are equally perfect, and that, short of the standard of perfection, all faults and vices are equal ; that, for example, the man that killed a cock, without good reason, was as guilty as he that killed his father. This has a meaning only when we draw a line between spirituality and morality, and treat the last as worthless in comparison of the first. The later Stoics, however, in their exhortations to special branches of duty, gave a positive value to practical virtue, irrespective of the ideal. The idea of Daty was of Stoical origin, fostered and de- veloped by the Roman spirit and legislation. The early Stoics had two different words, — one for the 'suitable' {ku0?jkov), or incomplete propriety, admitting of degrees, and below the point of rectitude, and another for the 'right' (KmofjOwjua), or complete rectitude of action, which none could achieve except the wise man. It is a significant circumstance that the * suitable' is the lineal ancestor of our word ' duty' (through the Latin ojjiciuia). It was a great point with the Stoic to be conscious of * advance ' or improvement.* By self-examination, he kept * This was a later development of Stoicism : the earlier theorists laid it down that there were no graduating marks below the level of wisdom ; all shortcomings were on a par. Good was a point, Evil was a point ; there were gradations in the prceposita or smnenda (none of which were good), and in the rijecta or rcjicienda (none of which were evil), but there was no more or less good. The idea of advance by steps towards virtue or wisdom, was probably familiar to Sokrates, Plato, Aristotle, and Epicurus ; the Stoic theories, on the other hand, tended to throw it out of sight, though they insisted strenuously on the necessity of mental training and meditation. SELF-CONTRADICTIONS OF STOICISM. Ill himself constantly acquainted with his moral state, and it was both his duty and his satisfaction to be approaching to the ideal of the perfect man. It is very illustrative of the unguarded points and contra- dictions of Stoicism, that contentment and apathy were not to permit grief even for the loss of friends. Seneca, on one occa- sion, admits that he was betrayed by human weakness on this point. On strict Stoical principles, we ought to treat the afflictions and the death of otbers with the same frigid indiffer- ence as our own ; for why should a man feel for a second person more than he ouo^ht to feel for himself, as a mere unit in the infinitude of the Universe ? This is the contradiction inseparable from any system that begins by abjuring pleasure, and relief or protection from pain, as the ends of life. Even granting that we regard pleasure and relief from pain as of no importance in our own case, yet if we apply the same measure to others we are bereft of all motives to benevo- lence ; and virtue, instead of being set on a loftier pinnacle, is left without any foundation. EPICURUS. [341-270 B.C.] Epicurus was bom 341 B.C. in the island of Samos. At the age of eighteen, he repaired to Athens, where he is sup- posed to have enjoyed the teaching of Xenocrates or Theo- phrastus. In 306 B.C., he opened a school in a garden in Athens, whence his followers have sometimes been called the * philosophers of the garden.' His life was simple, chaste, and temperate. Of the 300 works he is said to have written, nothing has come down to us except three letters, giving a summary of his views for the use of his friends, and a number of detached sayings, preserved by Diogenes Laertius and others. Moreover, some fragments of his work on Nature have been found at Herculaneura. The additional sources of our knowledge of Epicurus are the works of his opponents, Cicero, Seneca, Plutarch, and of his follower Lucretius. Our information from Epicurean writers respecting the doctrines of their sect is much less copious than what we possess from Stoic writers in regard to Stoic opinions. We have no Epicurean writer on Philosophy except Lucretius ; whereas respecting the Stoical creed under the Roman Empire, the im- portant writings of Seneca, Epictetus, and Marcus Antoninus, affurd most valuable evidence. To Epicurus succeeded, in the leadership of his school, 112 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— EPICURUS. HermaclirfS, Polystratus, Dlonyslus, P)asilides, and others, ten in nambef, down to the age of Augustus. Among Roman Epicureans, Lucretius (95 — 51 B.C.) is the most important, his poem (De Rerum Xatura), being the completest account of the system that exists. Other distinguished followers were Horace, Atticus, and Lucian. In modern times, Pierre Gassendi (1592 — 1655) revived the doctrines of Epicurus, and in 1647 published his ' Syntagma Philosophise Epicuri,' and a Life of Epicurus. The reputation of Gassendi, in his life time, rested chiefly upon his physical theories ; but his in- fluence was much felt as a Christian upholder oif Epicureanism. Gassendi was at one time in orders as a Roman Catholic, and professor of theology and philosophy. He established an Epicurean school in France, among the disciples of which were, Moliere, Saint Evremond, Count de Grammont, the Duke of Rochefoucalt, Fontenelle, and Voltaire. The standard of Virtue and Vice is referred by Epicums to pleasure and pain. Pain is the only evil. Pleasure is the only good. Virtue is no end in itself, to be sought : Vice is no end in itself, to be avoided. The motive for cultivating Virtue and banishing Vice arises from the consequences of each, as the means of multiplying pleasures and averting or lessening pains. But to the attainment of this purpose, the complete supremacy of Reason is indispensable ; in order that we may take a right comparative measure of the varieties of pleasure and pain, and pursue the course that promises the least amount of suffering.* In all ethical theories that make happiness the supreme object of pursuit, the position of virtue depends entirely upon the theory of what constitutes happiness. Now, Epicurus (herein differing from the Stoics, as well as Aristotle), did not recognize Happiness as anything but freedom from pain * This theory (taken in its most general sense, and apart from differ- ences in the estimation of particular pleasures and pains), had been pro- claimed long before the time of Epicurus. It is one of the various theories of Plato : for in his dialogue called Protagoras (though in other dialogues he reasons differently) we find it explicitly set forth and elaborately vindicated by his principal spokesman, Sokrates, against the Sophist Protagoras. It was also held by Aristippus (companion of Sokrates along with Plato) and by his followers after him, called the Cyrenaics. Lasth', it was maintained by Eudoxus, one of the most estimable philosophers contemporary with Aristotle. Epicurus was thus in no way the originator of the theory : but he had his own way of con- ceiving it — his own body of doctrine physical, cosmological, and theo- logical, with which it was implicated — and his own comparative valuation ol pleasures and pains. REGULATION OF THE DESIRES. 113 and enjoj^menfc of pleasure. It is essential, however, to understand, how Epicurus conceived pleasure and pain, and what is the Epicurean scale of pleasures and pains, graduated as objects of reasonable desire or aversion ? It is a great error to suppose that, in making pleasure the standard of virtue, Epicurus had in view that elaborate and studied grati- fication of the sensual appetites that we associate with the word Epicurean. Epicurus declares — ' When we say that pleasure is the end of life, we do not mean the pleasures of the debauchee or the sensualist, as some from 'gnorance or from malignity represent, but freedom of the body from pain, and of the soul from anxiety. For it is not continuous drinkings and revellings, nor the society of women, nor rare viands, and other luxuries of the table, that constitute a pleasant life, but sober contemplation, such as searches out the grounds of choice and avoidance, and banishes those chimeras that harass the mind. Freedom from pain is thus made the primary element of happiness : a one-sided view, repected in the doctrine of Locke, that it is not the idea of future good, but the pre- sent greatest uneasiness that most strongly affects tho will. A neutral state of feeling is necessarily imperilled by a greedy pursuit of pleasures ; hence the dictum, to be content with little is a great good; because little is most easily obtained. The regulation of the desires is therefore of high moment. According to Epicurus, desires fall into three grades. Some are ^mtural and necessary, such as desire of drink, food, or life, and are easily gratified. But when the uneasiness of a want is removed, the bodily pleasures admit of no farther increase ; anything additional only varies the pleasure. Hence the luxuries which go beyond the relief of our wants are thoroughly superfluous ; and the desires arising from them (forming the second gTade) though natural, are not necessary. A tliird class of desires is neither natural nor necessary, but begotten of vain opinion ; such as the thirst for civic honours, or for power over others ; those desires are the most diflicult to gratify, and even if gratified, entail upon us trouble, anxiety, and peril. [This account of the desires, following up the advice — If you wish to be rich, study not to increase your goods, but to diminish your desires— is to a certain extent wise and even indispensable ; yet not adapted to all tempera- ments. To those that enjoy pleasure very highi}^, and are not sensitive in an equal degree to pain, such a negative con- ception of happiness would be imperfect.] Epicurus did not, 114 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — EPICUKUS. however, deprecate positive pleasure. If it could be reached without paiti, and did not result in pain, it was a pure good ; tind, even if it could not be had without pain, the question "was still open, whether it might not be well worth the price. But in estimating the worth of pleasure, the absence of any accompanying pain should weigh heavil}'' in the balance. At this point, the Epicurean theory connects itself most inti- mately with the conditions of virtue ; for virtue is more con- cerned with averting mischief and suffering, than with multi- plying positive enjoyments. Bodily feeling, in the Epicurean psychology, is prior in order of time to the mental element ; the former was primor- dial, while the latter was derivative from it by repeated pro- cesses of memory and association. But though such was the order of sequence and generation, yet when we compare the two as constituents of happiness to the formed man, the mental element much outweighed the bodily, both as pain and as pleasure. Bodily pain or pleasure exists only in the pre- sent; when not felt, it is nothing. Bat mental feelings involve memory and hope — embrace the past as well as the future — endure for a long time, and may be recalled or put out of sight, to a great degree, at our discretion. This last point is one of the most remarkable features of the Epicurean mental discipline. Epicurus deprecated the general habit of mankind in always hankering after some new satisfaction to come ; always discontented with the pre- sent, and oblivious of past comforts as if they had never been. These past comforts ought to be treasured up by memory and reflection, so that they might become as it were matter for rumination, and might serve, in trying moments, even to counterbalance extreme physical suffering. The health of Epicurus himself was very bad during the closing years of his life. There remains a fragment of his last letter, to an intimate friend and companion, Idomeneus — 'I write this to you on the last day of my life, which, in spite of the severest internal bodily pains, is still a happy day, becaase I set against them In the balance all the mental pleasure felt in the recollec- tion of my past conversations with you. Take care of the children left by Metrodorus, in a manner worthy of your demeanour from boyhood towards me and towards philosophy.' Bodily pain might thus be alleviated, when it occurred; it might be greatly lessened in occurrence, by prudent and moderate habits ; lastly, even at the worst, if violent, it never lasted long ; if not violent, it might be patiently borne, and CAUSES OF HUMAN MISERY. 115 was at any rate terminated, or terminable at pleasure, by deat\i. In the view of Epicurus, the chief miseries of life arose, not from bodily pains, but partly from delusions of hope, and exaggerated aspirations for wealth, honours, power, &c., in all which the objects appeared most seductive from a distance, inciting man to lawless violence and treachery, while in the reality thej^ were always disappointments, and generally some- thing worse , partly, and still more, from the delusions of fear. Of this last sort, were the two greatest torments of human existence — Fear of Death, and of eternal suffering after death, as announced by prophets and poets, and Fear of the Gods. Epicurus, who did not believe in the continued existence of the soul separate from the body, declared that there could never be any rational ground for fearing death, since it was simply a permanent extinction of consciousness.* Death was nothing to us (he said) ; when death comes, we are no more, either to suffer or to enjoy. Yet it was the groundless fear of this nothing that poisoned all the tranquil- lity of life, and held men imprisoned even when existence was a torment. Whoever had surmounted that fear was armed at once against cruel tyranny and against all the gravest misfortunes. Next, the fear of the gods was not less delusive, and hardly less tormenting, than the fear of deith. It was a capital error (Epicurus declared) to suppose that the gods employed themselves as agents in working or superintending the march of the Cosmos ; or in conferring favour on some men, and admin- istering chastisement to others. The vulgar religious tales, which represented them in this character, were untrue and insulting as regards the gods themselves, and pregnant with perversion and misery as regards the hopes and fears of man- kind. Epicurus believed sincerely in the gods ; reverenced them as beings at once perfectly happy, immortal, and un- changeable ; and took delight in the public religious festivals and ceremonies. But it was inconsistent with these attri- butes, and repulsive to his feelings of reverence, to conceive them as agents. The idea of agency is derived from human experience ; w^e, as agents, act with a view to supply some want, to falfil some obligation, to acquire some pleasure, to * The soul, according to Epicurus, was a subtle but energetic com- pound (of air, vapour, heat, and another naineltss ingredient), with its best parts concentrated in the chest, j-et pervading and sustaining the whole body ; still, however, depending for its support on the body, aud incapable of separate or disembodied continuance. 116 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— EPICUKUS. accomplish some object desii'ed but not yet attained — in short, to fill np one or other of the many gaps in our imperfect happi- ness ; the gods already have all that agents strive to get, and . more than agents ever do get ; their condition is one not of agency, but of tranquil, self-sustaining, fruition. Accordingly, Epicurus thought (as Aristotle* had thought before him) that the perfect, eternal, and imperturbable well-being and felicity of the gods excluded the supposition of their being agents. He looked upon them as types of that unmolested safety and unalloyed satisfaction which was what he under- stood by pleasure or happiness — as objects of reverential envy, whose sympathy he was likely to obtain by assimilating his own temper and condition to theirs, as far as human circumstances allowed. These theological views were placed by Epicurus in the foreground of his ethical philosophy, as the only means of dispelling those fears of the gods that the current fables instilled into every one, and that did so much to destroy human comfort and security. He proclaimed that beings in immortal felicity neither suffered vexation in themselves nor caused vexation to others — neither showed anger nor favour to particular persons. The doctrine that they were the working managers in the aflairs of the Cosmos, celestial and terrestrial, human and extra-human, he not only repudiated as incompatible with their attributes, but declared to be im- pious, considering the disorder, sufferings, and violence, everywhere visible. He disallowed all prophecy, divination, and oracular inspiration, by which the public around him believed that the gods were perpetually communicating special revelations to individuals, and for which Sokrates had felt so peculiarly thankful. f It is remarkable that Stoics and Epicureans, in spite of their marked opposition in dogma or theory, agreed so far in practical results, that both declared these two modes of uneasiness (fear of the gods and fear of death) to be the great torments of human existence, and both strove to remove or counterbalance them. So far, the teaching of Epicurus appears confined to the separate happiness of each individual, as dependent upon his own prudence, sobriety, and correct views of Nature. But • Aristot. De Coelo. II. a. 12, p. 292, 22, 6, 5. In the Ethics, Aristotle assigns theorizing; conttmplcition to thn gods, as the only process worthy of their exalted dignity and supreme felicity. tXenophon Memor. 1. 1—10; IV. 3—12. EECIPEOCITY OF JUSTICE AND OF FRIENDSHIP. 117 this is not the -whole of the Epicurean Ethics. The system also considered, ench man as in companionship with others ; The precepts were shaped accordingly, first as to Justice, next as to Friendship. In both these, the foundation where- ou Epicurus built was Reciprocity : not pure sacrifice to others, but partnership with others, beneficial to all. He kept the ideas of self and of others inseparably knit together in one complex association : he did not expel or degrade either, in order to give exclusive ascendancy to the otlier. The dictate of Natural Justice was that no man should hurt another : each was bound to abstain from doing harm to others ; each, on this condition, was entitled to count on security and relief from the fear that others would do harm to him. Such double aspect, or reciprocity, was essential to social companionship : those that could not, or would not, accept this covenant, were unfit for society. If a man does not behave justly towards others, he cannot expect that they will behave justly towards him ; to live a life of injustice, and expect that others will not find it out, is idle. The unjust man cannot enjoy a moment of security. Epicurus laid it down explicitly, that just and righteous dealing was the indis- pensable condition to every one's comfort, and was the best means of attaining it. The reciprocity of Justice was valid towards all the world; the reciprocity of Friendship went much farther ; it involved indefinite and active beneficence, but could reach only to a select few. Epicurus insisted emphatically on the value of friendship, as a means of happiness to both the persons so united. He declared that a good friend was another self, and that friends ought to be prepared, in case of need, to die for each other. Yet he dechned to recommend an established community of goods among the members of his fraternity, as prevailed in the Pythagorean brotherhood : for such an insti- tution (he said) implied mistrust. He recommended efforts to please and to serve, and a forwardness to give, for the pur- pose of gaining and benefiting a friend, and he even declared that there was more pleasure in conferring favours than iu receiving them ; but he was no less strenuous in inculcating an intelligent gi-atitude on the receiver. No one except a wise man (he said) knew how to return a favour properly.* * These exhortations to active friendship were not unfruitful. We know, even by the admission of witnesses adverse to the Epicurean doctrines, that the harmony amoni^ the members of the sect, with common Veneration for the founder, was more marked and more enduring thaD 118 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — EPICTKUS. Virtue and happiness, in the theory of Epicarus, were thus inseparable. A man could not be happy until he had sur- mounted the fear of death and the fear of pods instilled by the current fables, which disturbed all tranquillity of mind ; until he had banished those factitious desires that pushed hira into contention for wealth, power, or celebrity ; nor unless he behaved with justice to all, and with active devoted friendship towards a few. Such a mental condition, which he thou^ht it was in every man's power to acquire by appropriate teaching and companionship, constituted virtue ; and was the sure as well as the only precursor of genuine happiness. A mind thas un- . disturbed and purified was sufficient to itself. The mere satis- faction of the wants of life, and the conversation of friends, became then felt pleasures ; if more could be had without pre- ponderant mischief, so much the better; but Nature, dis- burthencd of her corruptions and prejudices, required no more to be happy. This at least was as much as the conditions of humanity admitted : a tranquil, undisturbed, innocuous, non- competitive fruition, which approached most nearly to the perfect happiness of the Grods.* The Epicurean theory of virtue is the type of all those that make an enlightened self-interest the basis of right and wrong. The four cardinal virtues were explained from the Epicurean point of view. Pnidence was the supreme rule of conduct. It was a calculation and balancing of pleasures and pains. Its object was a judicious selection of pleasures to be sought. It teaches men to forego idle wishes, and to despise idle fears. Temrperance is the management of sensual plea- sures. It seeks to avoid excess, so as on the whole to extract that exhibited by any of the other pbilosophicrtl sects. Epicurus himself was a man of amiable personal qualities: his testament, still remaining, shows an affectionate regard, both tor his surviving friends, and for the permanent attachment of each to the others, as well as of all to the school. Diogenes Laertius tells us — nearly '200 years after Christ, and 450 years after the death of Epicurus — that the Epicurean sect still continued its numbers and dignity, having outlasted its contemporaries and rivals. The harmony among the Epicurean-! may be explained, not merely from the temper of the master, but partly from the doctrines and plan of life that he recommended. Ambiti >n and love of power were discouraged : rivalry among the members for succl'Ss, either political or rhetorical, was at any rate a rare exception : all were taught to confine themselves to that privacy of life and love of phil'>S!)i)}ucal communion Avhich alike required and nourished the mutual sympathies of the brotherhood. * Consistently with this view of happiness, Epicurus advised, in regard to politics, quiet submission to estah ished authority, without active meddling beyond what necessity required. FREE-WILU 119 AS inucli pleasure as our bodily organs are capable of affording. Fortitude is a virtue, because it overcomes fear and pain. It consists in facing danger or enduring pain, to avoid greater possible evils. Justice is of artificial origin. It consists in a tacit agreement among mankind to abstain from injaring one another. The security that everj man has in his person and property, is the great consideration urging to abstinence from injuiing others. But is it not possible to commit injustice with safety ? The answer was, ' Injustice is not an evil in itself, but becomes so from the fear that haunts the iujurer of not being able to escape the appointed avengers of such acts.' The Physics of Epicurus were borrowed in the main from the atomic theory of Democritus, but were modified by him in a manner subservient and contributory to his ethical scheme. To that scheme it was essential that those celestial, atmos- pheric, or terrestrial phenomena that the pnblic around him ascribed to the agency and purposes of the gods, should be un- derstood as being produced by physical causes. An eclipse, an earthquake, a storm, a shipwreck, unusual rain or drought, a good or a bad harvest — and not merely these, but many other occurrences far smaller and more unimportant, as we may see by the eighteenth chapter of the Characters of Tueophrastus — were then regarded as visitations of the gods, requiring to be interpreted by recognized prophets, and to be appeased by ceremonial expiations. When once a man became convinced that all these phenomena proceeded from physical agencies, a host of terrors and anxieties would disappear from the mind ; and this Epicurus asserted to be the beueticeut effect and real recommendation of physical philosophy. He took little or no thought for scientific curiosity as a motive per se, which both Democritus and Aristotle put so much in the foreground. Epicurus adopted the atomistic scheme of Democritus, but with some important variations. He conceived that the atoms all moved with equal velocity in the downward direction of gravity. But it occurred to him that upon this hypothesis there could never occur any collisions or combinations of the atoms — nothing but continued and unchangeable parallel lines. Accord- ingly, he modified it by saying that the line of descent was not exactly rectilinear, but that each atom deflected a little from the straight line, and each in its OAvn direction and degree ; so that it became possible to assume collisions, resiliences, adhesions, combinations, among them, as it had been possible under the variety of original movements ascribed to them by Democritus. The opponents of Epicurus derided this auxiliary hypothesis ; 120 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — EPICURUS. they affirmed that he invented the individual deflection of each atom, without assigning any cause, and only because he was perplexed hy the mystery of man's free-ivtU. But Epicurus was not more open to attack on this ground than other phy- sical philosophers. Most of them (except perhaps the most consistent of the Stoic fatalists) believed that some among the phenomena of the universe occurred in regular and pre- dictable sequence, while others were essentially irregular and unpredictable ; each philosopher devised his hypothesis, and recognized some fundamental principle, to explain the first class of phenomena as well as the second. Plato admitted an invincible Erratic necessity ; Aristotle introduced Chance and Spontaneity ; Democritus multiplied indefinitely the varieties of atomic movements. The hypothetical deflexion alleged by Epicurus was his way, not more unwarranted than the others, of providing a fundamental principle for the unpre- dictable phenomena of the universe. Among these are the mental (including the volitional) manifestations of men and animals ; but there are many others besides ; and there is no ground for believing that the mystery of free-will was pecu- liarly present to his mind. The movements of a man or animal are not exclusively subject to gravitation and other general laws ; they are partly governed by mental impulses and by forces of the organism, intrinsic and peculiar to him- self, unseen and unfelt by others. For these, in common with many other untraceable phenomena in the material world, Epicurus probacies a principle in the supplementary hypo- thesis of deflexion. He rejected the fatalism contained in the theories of some of the Stoics, and admitted a limited range of empire to chance, or irregularity. But he maintained that the will, far from being among the phenomena essentially irregular, is under the influence of motives ; for no man can insist more strenuously than he does (see the Letter to Menoeceus) on the complete power of philosophy, — if the student could be made to feel its necesbi-y and desire the attainment of it, so as to meditate and engrain within himself sound views about the gods, death, and human life generally, — to mould oar volitions and character in a manner conformable to the exigencies of virtue and happiness. When we read the explanations given by Epicurus and^ Lucretius of what the Epicurean theory really was, and com- pare them with the numerous attacks made upon it by oppo- nents, we cannot but remark that the title or formula of the theory was ill chosen, and was really a misnomer. What PLOTINUS. 121 Epicurus meant by Pleasure was, not what most people meant by it, but something very, different — a tranquil and comfortable state of mind and body ;/much the same as what Deniocritus had expressed before him by the phrase evGv/nin. This last phrase would have expressed what Epicurus aimed at, neither more nor less. It would at least have preserved his theory from, much misplaced sarcasm and aggressive rhetoric. THE NEO-PLATONISTS. PLOTINUS (A.D. 205—70), PORPHYRY, &c. Constructed with reference to the broken-down state of ancient society, and seeking its highest aim in a regenera- tion of humanity, the philosophical system of Neo-Platonism was throughout ethical or ethico-religious in spirit ; yet its ethics admits of no great development according to the usual topics. A pervading ethical character is not incom- patible with the absence of a regular ethical scheme; and there was this peculiarity in the system, that its end, though professedly moral, was to be attained by means of an intel- lectual regimen. In setting up its ideal of human effort, ifc was least of all careful about prescribing a definite course of external conduct. The more strictly ethical views of Plotinus, the chief re- presentative of the school, are found mainly in the first of the six Enneads into which Porphyry collected his master's essays. But as they presuppose the cosmological and psychological doctrines, their place in the works, as now arranged, is to be regarded as arbitrary. The soul having fallen from its original condition, and, in consequence and as a penalty, having become united with a matei-ial body, the one true aim recognized for human action is, to rise above the de- basing connection with matter, and again to lead the old spiritual life. For those that have sunk so far as to be con- tent with the world of sense, wisdom consists in pursuino* pleasure as good, and shunning pain as evil : but the others can partake of a better life, in different degrees. The first Htep in reformation is to practise virtue in tlie affairs of life, which means to subject Sense and the lower desires to Keason. This is done in the fourfold form of the common cardinal virtues, called political bv Plotinus, to mark the sphere of action where they can be exerted, and is the virtue of a class of men capable of a certain elevation, though ignorant of all the rest that lies above them. A second step is made throuf^-h the 6 r o 122 Kl'HlCAL SYSTEMS — THE NEO-PLATOXISTS. means of the KaOa psei<}Ov inirifijing virtues ; where it is sought to root out, instead of merely moderating, the sensual affections. If the soul is thus altogether freed from the dominion of sense, it becomes at once able to follow its natural bent towards good, and enters into a permanent state of calm. This is virtue in its true meaning — becoming like to the Deity, all that went before being merely a preparation. The pure and perfect life of the soul may still be described as a field whereon the four virtues are exercised, but they now assume a far higher meaning than as political virtues, having relation solely to the contemplative life of the Nous. Happiness is unknown to Plotinus as distinct from per- fection, and perfection in the sense of having subdued all material cravings (except as regards the bare necessities of life), and entered upon the undisturbed life of contemplation. If this recalls, at least in name, the Aristotelian ideal, there are points added that appear to be echoes of Stoicism. Rapt in the contemplation of eternal verities, the purified soul is indifferent to external circumstances : pain and suffering are unheeded, and the just man can feel happy even in the bull of Phalaris. But in one important respect the Neo- Platonic teaching is at variance with Stoical doctrine. Though its first and last precept is to rid the soul from the bondage of matter, it warns against the attempt to sever body and soul by suicide. By no forcible separation, which would be followed by a new junction, but only by prolonged internal effort is the soul so set free from the world of sense, as to be able to have a vision of its ancient home while still in the body, and to return to it at death. Small, therefore, as is the consideration bestowed by Neo-Platonism on the affairs of practical life, it has no disposition to shirk the burden of them. One other peculiar aim, the highest of all, is proposed to the soul in the Alexandrian philosophy. It is peculiar, because to be understood only in connexion with the metaphysics and cosmology of the system. In the theory of Emanation, the primordial One or Good emits the Nous wherein the Ideas are . immanent ; the Nous, in turn, sends forth the Soul, and the Soul, Matter or nature ; the gradation applying to man as well as to the Universe. Now, to each of these principles, there is a corresponding subjective state in the itmer life of man. The life of sense answers to nature or the material body; the virtue that is founded upon free-will and reason, to the soul ; the contemplative life, as the result of complete purificatioa J ABAELAKD. 123 from sense, to tlie Nous or Sphere of Ideas ; finally, to tbe One or Good, supreme in the scale of existence, corresponds the state of Love, or, in its highest form, Ecstasij. This peculiar elevation is something far above the highest intellectual con- templation, and is not reached by thought. It is not even a mere intuition of, but a real union or contact with, the Good. To attain it, there must be a complete withdrawal into self from the external world, and then the subject must wait quietly till perchanc^ the stat" comes on. It is one of ineffable bliss, but, from the nature of man, transitory and rare. SCHOLASTIC ETHICS. AiUELARD (1079-1142) has a special treatise on the subject of Ethics, entitled Scito te ipsiom. As the name implies, it lays chief stress upon the Subjective element in morality, and, in this aspect, is considered to supply the idea that underlies a very large portion of modern ethical speculation. By nature a notoriously independent thinker, Abaelard claimed for philo- sophy the right of discussing ethical questions and fixing a natural moral law, though he allowed a corrective in the Christian scheme. Having this position with reference to the church, he was also much less under the yoke of philosophical authority than his successors, from living at a time when Aristotle was not yet supreme. Yet, with Aristotle, he assigns the attainment of the highest good as the aim of all human efibrt. Ethics showing the way ; and, with the schoolmen gene- rally, pronounces the highest good to be God. If the highest good in itself is God, the highest human good is love to God. This is attained by way of virtue, which is a good Will con- solidated into a habit. On the influence of habit on action his view is Aristotelian. His own specialty lies in his judging actions solely with reference to the intention (intentio) of the agent, and this intention with reference to conscience (con- scientia). All actions, he says, are in themselves indifferent, and not to be called good or evil except from the intention of the doer. Peccatum is properly only the action that is done with evil intent; and where this is present, where the mental consent (consensus) is clearly established, there is peccatum^ though the action remains unexecuted. When the consensus is absent, as in original sin, there is only vitium ; hence, a life without peccata is not impossible to men in the exercise of their freedom, however difficult it may be. The supremacy assigned by him to the subjective element of conscience appears in such phrases as, there is no sin except 124 ETHICAL SYSTEMS - SCHOLASTIC ETHICS. I against conscience ; also in the opinion he pronounces, that, though in the case of a mistaken moral conviction, an action is not to be called good, yet it is not so bad as an action objectively right but done against conscience. Thus, with- out allowing that conscientious persecutors of Christians act rightly, he is not afraid, in the application of his principle, to say that they would act still more wrongly if through not listening to their conscience, they spared their victims. But this means only that by following- conscience we avoid sinning; for virtue in the full sense, ic is necessary that the conscience should have judged rightly. By what standard, however, this is to be ascertained, he nowhere clearly says. Contemptus Dei, given by him as the real and only thing that constitutes an action bad, is merely another subjective de- scription. St. Bernard of Clairvaux (1091-1153), the strenuous opponent of Abaelard, and the great upholder of mysticism against rationahsm in the early scholastic period when the two were not yet reconciled, gave utterance, in the course of his mystical effusions, to some special views of love and dis- interestedness. There are two degrees of Christian virtue. Humility and Charity or Love. When men look into themselves, and behold the meanness that is found there, the fitting state of mind is, first, humility; but soon the sense of their very weakness begets in them charity and compassion towards others, while the sense also of a certain human dignity raises within them feelings of love towards the author of then' being. The treatise De Amove Dei sets forth tlie nature of this love, which is the highest exercise of human powers. Its fundamental charac- teristic is its disinterestedness. It has its reward, but from meriting, not from seeking. It is purely voluntary, and, as a free sentiment, necessarily unbought; it has God for its single object, and would not be love to God, if he were loved for the sake of something else. He distinguishes various degrees of love. There is, first, a natural love of self for the sake of self. Next, a motion of love towards God amid earthly misfortunes, which also is not disinterested. The third degree is different, being love to God for his own sake, and to our neighbour for God's sake. But the highest grade of all is not reached, until men come to love even themselves only by relation to God ; at this point, with the disappearance of all special and interested affectioii, the mystic goal is attained. REVIVAL OF ARISTOTLE. 125 John of Salisbury (d. 1180) is the last name to be cited in the early scholastic period. He professed to be a practical philosopher, to be more concerned about the uses of know- ledge than about knowledge itself, and to subordinate every- thing to some purpose ; by way of protest against the theo- retic hair-splitting and verbal subtleties of his pi-edecessors. Even more than in Ethics, he found in Politics his proper sphere. He was the staunchest upholder of the Papal Supremacy, which, after long struggles, was about to be established at its greatest height, before presiding at the opening of the most brilliant period of scholasticism. In the PoUcratlcus especially, but also in his other works, the foundations and provisions of his moral system are found. He has no distinction to draw in Ethics between theology and philosophy, but uses Scidpture and observation alike, though Scripture always in the final appeal. Of philosophizing, the one final aim, as also of existence, is Happiness ; the question of questions, how it is to be attained. Happiness is not pleasure, nor possession, nor honour, but consists in following the path of virtue. Virtue is to be understood from the consti- tution of human nature. In man, there is a lower and a higher faculty of Desire; or, otherwise expressed, there are the various afiections that have their roots in sense and centre in self-love or the desire of self-preservation, and there is also a natural love of justice implanted from the beginning. In proportion as the appetitus justi, which consists in will, gains upon the appetitus commodi, men become more worthy of a larger happiness. Self-love rules in man, so long as he is in the natural state of sin ; if, amid great conflict and by divine help, the higher affection gains the upper hand, the state of true virtue, which is identical with the theoretic state of belief, and also of pure love to God and man, is reached. By the middle of the thirteenth century, the schoolmen had before them the whole works of Aristotle, obtained from Arabian and other sources. Whereas, previous to this time, they had comprehended nearly all the subjects of Philosophy under the one name of Dialectics or Logic, always reserving, however. Ethics to Theology, they were now made aware of the ancient division of the sciences, and of what had been accomplished in each. The effect, both in respect of form and of subject-matter, was soon apparent in such compilations or more independent works as they w^ere able to produce after their commentaries on the Aristotelian text. But in 126 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— SCH0LA.ST1C ETHICS. Ethics, the nature of the subject demanded of men in their position a less entire submission to the doctrines of the pagan philosopher ; and here accordingly they clung to the traditional theological treatment. If they were commenting on the Ethics of Aristotle, the Bible was at hand to supply his omissions ; if they were setting up a complete moral system, they took little more than the ground-work from him, the rest being Cliristian ideas and precepts, or fragments borrowed from Platonism and other Greek systems, nearly allied in spirit to their own faith. This is especially true, as will be seen, of Thomas Aquinas. His predecessors can be disposed of in a few words. Alexander of Hales (d. 1245) was almost purely theological. BoNAVENTURA (1221-74) in his double character of rigid Fran- ciscan and mystic, was led far beyond the Aristotelian Ethics. The mean between excess and defect is a very good rule for the affairs of life, but the true Christian is bound besides to works of supererogation : first of all, to take on the con- dition of poverty ; while the state of mystic contemplation remains as a still higher goal for the few. Albert the Great (1193-1280), the most learned and complete commentator of Aristotle that had yet appeared, divide the whole subject of Ethics into Monastica^ (Econoniica, and Politica. In this division, which is plainly suggested by the Aristotelian division of Politics in the large sense, the term Monastica not inaptly expresses the reference that Ethics has to the conduct of men as individuals. Albert, however, in commenting on the Nicomachean Ethics, adds exceeedingly little to the results of his author beyond the incorporation of a few Scriptural ideas. To the cardinal virtues he appends the virhites adj^mctce^ Faith, Hope, and Charity, and again in his compendious work, Summa TheoIogicE, distinguishes them as i7ifus passions and a,ffections tending to the same ends as these (some to tlie good of our fellows, others to our own good) ; while in following them we are not conscious of seeking those ends, but some different ends. Such are our various Appetites and Passions. Thus, hunger promotes our private well-being, bat in obeying its dictates we are not thinking of that object, bat of the procur- ing of food. Curiosity promotes both pablio and private good, but its direct and immediate object is knowledge. [This refined distinction appears first in Aquinas ; there is in it a palpable confusion of ideas. If we regard the final impulse of hunger, it is not toward the food, but towards the appeasing of a pain and the gaining of a pleasure, which are certainly identical with self, being the definition of self in the last resort. We associate the food with the gratification of these demands, and hence food becomes an end to us — one of the associated or iutermedlate ends. So the desire of know- ledge is the desire of the pleasure, or of the relief from pain, accruing from knowledge ; while, as in the case of food, knowledge is to a great degree only an instrument, and there- fore an intermediate and associated end. So the desire of esteem is the desire of a pleasure, or else of the instrument of pleasure. In short, Butler tries, without effect, to evade the general principles of the will — our being moved exclusively by plea- sure and pain. Abundant reference has been already- made to the circumstances that modify in appearance, or in reality, the operation of this principle. The distinction between self- love and the particular appetites, passions, and affections, is mainly the distinction between a great aggregate of the reason (the total interests of our being) and the separate items that make it up.] The distinction is intended to prepare the way for the Betting forth of Conscience,* which is called a ' principle of * Butler's definition of conscience, and his whole treatment of it, have created a great puzzle of classification, as to whether he is to be placed along with the upholders of a 'moral sense.' Shjiftesbury is more ex- plicit : ' No sooner does the eye open upon figures, the ear to sounds, than straight the Beautiful results, and grace and harmony are known and acknowledged. No sooner are actions viewed, no sooner tfie human affections discerned (and they are, most of them, as soon discerned as felt), than straight an inward eye distinguishes the fair and shapely, the amiable and admirable, apart from the deformed, the foul, the odious, or the 162 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — BUTLER. reflection in men, whereby they distinguish between, approve and disapprove, their own actions.' This principle has for its result the good of society ; still, in following it, we are not con- scious of aiming at the good of society. A father has an afiection for his children ; this is one thing. He has also a principle of reflection, that urges him with added force and with more steady persistency than any afiection; which prin- ciple mast therefore be difierent from mere afl'ection. Butler's analysis of the human feelings is thus : I. — Bene- volence and Self-love. II. — The particular Appetites, Passions, and Affections, operating in the same direction as Benevolence and Self-love, but without intending it. HI. — Conscience, of which the same is to be said. His reply to the objection, — against our being made for Benevolence, — founded on our mischievous propensities, is, that in the same way there are tendencies mischievous to ourselves, and yet no one denies us the possession of self-love. He re- marks farther that these evil tendencies are the abuse of such as are right ; ungovernable passion, reckless pursuit of our own good, and not pure malevolence, are the causes of in- justice and the other vices. In short, we are made for pursuing both our own good and the good of others; but present gratifications and passing inclinations interfere alike with both objects. Sermons 11. , III., are meant to establish, from our moral nature, the Supremacy of Conscience. Our moral duties may be deduced from the scheme of our nature, which shows the design of the Deity. There may be some difiiculties attending the deduction, owing to the want of uniformity in the human constitution. Still, the broad feelings of the mind, and the purpose of them, can no more be mistaken than the existence and the purpose of the eyes. It can be made quite apparent that the single principle called conscience is intended to rule all the rest. But, as Conscience is only one part of our nature, there despicable.'' ' In a creature capable of forming general notions of things, not only the outward beings which offer themselves to the sense, are the objects of the affections, but the very actions themselves, and the affec- tions of pity, kindness, and gratitude, and their contraries, being brought into the mind by relit ction, become objects. So that, by means of this itJJeeted sense, there arises another kind of affection towards these affec- tions themselves, which have been already telt, and are now become the subject of a new liking or dislike.' What this * moral sense' approves is benevolence, and when its approval has been acted upon, by subjecting the selfish affections, ' virtue ' is attained. SUPREMACY OF CONSCIENCE. 163 being two otlier parts, namely, (1) Benevoleuoe and Self-love, and (2) the particular Appetites and Passions, why are they not all equally natural, and all equally to be followed ? This leads to an inquiry into the meanings of the word Nature. First, Nature may mean any prompting whatever ; angor and affection are equally natural, as being equally part of us. Secondly, it may mean our strongest passion, what most frequently prevails with us and shows our individual cha- racters. In this sense, vice may be natural. Bat, thirdly, we may reclaim against thosa two meanings, and that on the authority both of the Apostle Paul and of the ancient sages, and declare that the proper meaning of follow- ing nature is following Conscience, or that superior principle in every man which bears testimony to its own supremacy. It is by this faculty, natural to a man, that be is a moral agent, a law to himself. Men may act according to their strongest principle, and yet violate their nature, as when a man, urged by present gra- tification, incurs certain ruin. The violation of nature, in this instance, may be expressed as disproportion. There is thus a difference in kind between passions; self- love is superior to temporary appetite. Passion or Appetite means a tendency towards certain objects with no regard to any other objects. Reflection or Conscience steps in to protect the interests that these would lead us to sacrifice. Surely, therefore, this would be enough to constitute superiority. Any other passion taking the lead is a case of usurpation. AVe can hardly form a notion of Conscience without this idea of superiority. Had it might, as it has right, it would govern the world. Were there no such supremacy, all actions would be on an equal footing. Impiety, profaneness, and blasphemy would be as suitable as reverence ; parricide would justify itself by the right of the strongest. Hence human nature is made up of a number of propen- sities in union with this ruling principle ; and as, in civil government, the constitution is infringed by strength pre- vailing over authority, so the nature of man is violated when the lower faculties triumph over conscience. Man has a rule of right within, if he will honestly attend to it. Out of this arrangement, also, springs Obligation ; the law of conscience is the law of our nature. It carries ita 164: ETHICAL SYSTEMS — BUTLER. authority with it; it is the guide assigned bj the Author of our nature. He then replies to the question. ' Why should we be con- cerned about anything out of or beyond ourselves ?' Suppos- ing we do possess in our nature a regard to the well-being of others, why may we not set that aside as being in our way to our own good. The answer is, We cannot obtain our own good without having regard to others, and undergoing the restraints pre- scribed by morality. There is seldom any inconsistency between our duty and our interest. Self-love, in the present world, coincides with virtue. If there are any exceptions, all will be set right in the final distribution of things. Conscience and self-love, if we understand our true happiness, always lead us the same way. Such is a brief outline of the celebrated ' Three Sermons on Human Nature.' The radical defect of the whole scheme lies in its Psychological basis. Because we have, as mature human beings, in civilized society, a principle of action called Conscience, which we recognize as distinct from Self- love and Benevolence, as well as from the Appetites and Pas- sions, Butler would make us believe that this is, from the first, a distinct principle of our nature. The proper reply is to analyze Conscience ; showing at the same time, from its very great discrepancies in different minds, that it is a growth, or product, corresponding to the education and the circum- stances of each, although of course involving the common elements of the mind. In his Sermons on Compassion (V., YI.), he treats this as one of the Affections in his second group of the Feelings (Appetites, Passions, and Aff'ections) ; vindicates its existence against Hobbes, who treated it as an indirect mode of self- regard ; and shows its importance in human life, as an adjunct to Rational Benevolence and Conscience. In discussing Benevolence (Sermon XII.) Butler's object ia to show that it is not ultimately at variance with Self-love. In the introductory observations, he adverts to the historical fact, that vice and folly take different turns in diff'erent ages, and that the peculiarity of his own age is ' to profess a con- tracted spirit, and greater regards to self-interest' than formerly. He accommodates his preaching of virtue to this characteristic of his time, and promises that there shall be all possible concessions made to the feat the leading points of Hume's system, in the usual order. I. — The Standard of Right and Wrong is Utility, or a refer- ence to the Happiness of mankind. This is the ground, as well as the motive, of moral approbation. II. — As to the nature of the Moral Faculty, he contends that it is a compound of Reason, and Humane or Generous Sentiment. He does not introduce the subject of Free-will into Morals. He contends strongly for the existence of Disinterested Sentiment, or Benevolence ; but scarcely recognizes it as leading to absolute and uncompensated self-sacrifice. He does not seem to see that as far as the approbation of benevo- lent actions is concerned, we are anything but disinterested parties. The good done by one man is done to some others ; 196 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— PRICE. and the recipients are moved by their self-love to enconrage beneficence. » The regard to our own benefactor makes all benefactors interesting. III. — He says little directly bearing on the constituents of Human Happiness ; but that little is all in favour of simplicity of life and cheap pleasures. He does not reflect that the plea- sures singled out by him are far from cheap ; 'agreeable con- versation, society, study, health, and the beauties of nature,* although not demanding extraordinary wealth, cannot be secured without a larger share of worldly means than has ever fallen to the mass hl men in any community. IV. — As to the substance of the Moral Code, he makes no innovations. He talks somewhat more lightly of the evils of Unchastity than is customary ; but regards the prevailing restraints as borne out by Utility. The inducements to virtue are, in his view, our humane sentiments, on the one hand, and our self-love, or prudence, on the other ; the two classes of motives conspiring to pro- mote both our own good and the good of mankind. V. —The connexion of Ethics with Politics is not specially brought out. The political virtues are moral virtues. He does not dwell upon the sanctions of morality, so as to dis- tinguish the legal sanction from the popular sanction. He draws no line between Duty and Merit. VI. — He recognizes no relationship between Ethics and Theology. The principle of Benevolence in the human mind is, he thinks, an adequate source of moral approbation and disapprobation ; and he takes no note of what even sceptics (Gibbon, for example) often dwe 1 upon, the aid of the Theo- logical sanction in enforcing duties imperfectly felt by the natural and unprompted sentiments of the mind. RICHARD PRICE. (1723-1791.) Price's work is entitled, ' A Review of the principal ques- tions in Morals ; particularly those respecting the Origin of our Ideas of Virtue, its Nature, Relation to the Deity, O'oli- gation, Subject-matrer, and Sanctions,' In the third edition, he added an Appendix on 'the Being and Attributes of the Deity.' The book is divided into ten chapters. Chapter I. is on the origin of our Ideas of Right and Wrong. The actions of moral agents, he says, give rise in us to three difierent perceptions: 1st, Right and Wrong; 2nd, IDEAS OF EIGHT AND WKOFG. 197 Beauty and Deformity ; 3rd, Good or HI Desert. It is the first of these perceptions that he proposes mainly to consider. He commences by quoting Hatcheson's doctrine of a Moral Sense, which he describes as an implanted and arbitrary principle, imparting a relish or disrelish for actions, like the sensibilities of the various senses. On this doctrine, he remarks, the Creator might have annexed the same sentiments to the opposite actions. Other schemes of morality, such as Self-love, Positive Laws and Compacts, the Will of the Deity, he dismisses as not meeting the true question. The question, as conceived by him, is, ' What is the power within us that perceives the distinctions of Right and Wrong?* The answer is, The Understanding. To establish this position, he enters into an enquiry into the distinct provinces of Sense and of Understanding in the origin of our ideas. It is plain, he says, that what judges concerning the perceptions of the senses, and contradicts their decisions, cannot itself be sense, but must be some nobler faculty. Likewise, the power that views and compares the objects of all the senses cannot be sense. Sense is a mere capacity of being passiv^ely impressed; it presents particular forms to the mind, and is incapable of discovering general truths. It is the understanding that perceives order or pro- portion ; variety and regularity ; design, connexion, art, and power; aptitudes, dependence, correspondence, and adjust- ment of parts to a whole or to an end. He goes over our leading ideas in detail, to show that mere sense cannot furnish them. Thus, Solidity, or Impenetrability, needs an exertion of reason; we must compare instances to know that two atoms of matter cannot occupy the same space. Vis Inertim is a perception of the reason. So Substance, Duration, Space, Necessary Existence, Power, and Causation involve the under- standing. Likewise, that all Abstract Ideas whatsoever require the understanding is superfluously proved. The author wonders, therefore, that his position in this matter should not have been sooner arrived at. The tracing of Agreement and of Disagreement, which are functions of the Understanding, is really the source of simple ideas. Thus, Equality is a simple idea originating^ in this source; so are Proportion, Identity and Diversity, Existence, Cause and Effect, Power, Possibility and Impossibility; and (as he means ultimately to show) Risrht and Wrong. Although the author's exposition is not very lucid, his main conclusion is a sound one. Sense, in its narrowest 198 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — PRICE. acceptation, gives particular impressions and experiences of Colour, Sound, Touch, Taste, Odour, &c. The Intellectual functions of Discrimination and Agreement are necessary as a supplement to Sense, to recognize these impressions as diflfer- ing and agreeing, as Equal or Unequal ; Proportionate op Disproportionate ; Harmonious or Discordant. And farther, every abstract or general notion, — colours in the abstract, sweetness, pungency, &c. — supposes these powers of the understanding in addition to the recipiency of the senses. To apply this to Right and Wrong, the author begins by affirming [what goes a good way towards begging the ques- tion] that right and wrong are simple ideas, and therefore the result of an immediate power of perception in the human mind. Beneficence and Cruelty are indefinable, and therefore ultimate. There must be some actions that are in the last resort an end in themselves. This being assumed, the author contends that the power of immediately perceiving these ultimate ideas is the Understanding. Shaftesbury had con- tended that, because the perception of right and wrong was immediate, therefore it must reside in a special Sense. The conclusion, thinks Price, was, to say the least of it, hasty ; for it does not follow that every immediate perception should reside in a special sensibility or sense. He puts it to each one's experience whether, in conceiving Gratitude or Benefi- cence to be right, one feels a sensation merely, or performs an act of understanding 'Would not a Being purely intelligent, having happiness within his reach, approve of securing it for himself? Would he not think this right; and would it not be right ? When we contemplate the happiness of a species, op of a world, and pronounce on the actions of reasonable beings which promote it, that they are right, is this judging errone- ously? Or is it no determination of the judgment at all, bat a sj)ecies of mental taste [as Shaftesbury and Hutcheson sup- posed] ? [As against a moral sense, this reasoning may be effective; but it obviously assumes an end of desire, — happi- ness for self, or for others — and yet does not allow to that end any share in making up the sense of right and wrong.] Every one, the author goes on to say, must desire happiness for himself; and our rational nature thenceforth must approve of the actions for promoting happiness, and disapprove of the contrary actions. Surely the understanding has some share in the revulsion that we feel when any one brings upon himself, or upon others, calamity and ruin. A being tiattered with hopes of bliss and then plunged into torments would MORALITY DETERMINED BY THE UNDERSTANDING. 199 complain jiisthj ; he would consider that violence had been done to a perception of the human understanding. He next brings out a metaphysical difficulty in applying right and wrong to actions, on the supposition that they are mere effects of sensation. All sensations, as such, are modes of consciousness, or feelings, of a sentient being, and must be of a nature different from their causes. Colour is in the mind, not an attribute of the object; but right and wrong are quali- ties of actions, of objects, and therefore must be ideas, not sensations. Then, again, there can be nothing true or untrue in a sensation : all sensations are alike just ; while the moral rectitude of an action is something absolute and unvarying. Lastly, all actions have a nature, or character ; something truly belonging to them, and truly affirmable of them. If actions have no character, then they are all indifferent ; but this no one can affirm ; we all strongly believe the contrary. Actions are not indifferent. They are good or bad, better or worse. And if so, they are declared such by an act of judg' menf, a function of the understanding. The author, considering his thesis established, deduces from it the corollar\-, that morality is eternal and immutable. As an object of the Understand mg, it has an invariable essence. No will, not even Omnipotence, can make things other than they are. Right and wrong, as far as they express tlie real characters of actions, must immutably and necessarily belong to the actions. By action, is of course understood not a bare external effect, but an effect taken along with its prin- ciple or rule, the motives or reasons of the being that performs it. The matter of an action being the same, its morality reposes upon the end or motive of the agent. Nothing can be obligatory in us that was not so from eternity. The will of God could not make a thing right that was not right in its own nature. The author closes his first chapter with a criticism of the doctrine of Protagoras — that man is the measure of all things — interpreting it as ano^lier phase of the view that he is com- bating. Although this chapter is but a small part of the work, it completes the author's demonstration of his ethical theory. Chapter II. is on ' our Ideas of the Beauty and Deformity of Actions.' By these are meant our pleasurable and painful sentiments, arising from the consideration of moral right and wrong, expressed by calling some actions amiable, and others odious, shocking, vile. Although, in this aspect of actions, 200 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— PRICE. it would seera that tlie reference to a sense is the suitable ex- planation, he still contends for the intervention of the Under- standing. The character of the Deity mnst appear more amiable the better it is known and underslood. A reasonable being, without any special sensibilities, but knowing what order and happiness are, would receive pleasure from the con- templation of a universe where order prevailed, and pain from a prospect of the contrary. To behold virtue is to admire her ; to perceive vice is to be moved to condemnation. There must always be a consideration of the circumstances of an action, and this involves intellectual discernment. The author now qualifies his doctrine by the remark, that to some superior beings the intellectual discernment may explain the whole of the appearances, but inferior natures, such as the human, are aided by instinctive determinations. Oar appetites and passions are too strong for reason by itself, especially in early years. Hence he is disposed to conclude that * in contemplating the actions of moral agents, we have both a loercejption of the understanding and a feeling oftJie heart ;^ but that this feeling of the heart, while partly instinctive, is mainly a sense of congruity and incongruity in actions. The author therefore allows something to innate sense, but diffcT'S from Shaftesbury, who makes the whole a matter of intuitive determination. Chapter III. relates to the origin of our Desires and Affections, by which he means more especially Self-love and Benevolence. His position here is that Self-love is the essence of a Sensible being, Benevolence the essential of an Intelligent being. By the very nature of our sensitive constitution, we cannot but choose happiness for self; and it is only an act of intellectual consistency to extend the same measure to others. The same qualification, however, is made as to the insufficiency of a mere intellectual impulse in this matter, without consti- tutional tendencies. These constitutional tendencies the author considers as made up of our Appetites and Passions, while our Affections are founded on our rational nature. Then follow a few observations in confirmation of Butler's views as to the disinterested nature of our affections. Chapter TV. is on our Ideas of good and ill Desert. These are only a variety of our ideas of right and wrong, being the feelings excited towards the moral Agent. Our reason deter- mines, with regard to a virtuous agent, that lie ought to be the better for his virtue. The ground of such determination, however, is not solely that virtuous conduct promotes the MORAX ATTRIBUTES OF THE DEITY. 201 Happiness of mankind, and vice detracts from it ; this counts for much, but not for all. Virtue is in itself rewardable ; vice is of essential demerit. Our understanding recognizes the absolute and eternal rectitude, the intrinsic fitness of the procedure in both aspects. Chapter V. is entitled * Of the Reference of Morality to the Divine Nature ; the Rectitude of our Faculties ; and the Grounds of Belief.' The author means to reply to the objec- tion that his system, in setting up a criterion independent of God, is derogatory to the Divine nature. He urges that there must be attributes of the Deity, independent of his will ; as his Existence, Immensity, Power, Wisdom; that Mind sup- poses Truth apart from itself; that without moral distinctions there could be no Moral Attributes in the Deity. Certain things are inherent in his Nature, and not dependent on his will. There is a limit to the universe itself; two infinities of space or of duration are not possible. Tlie necessary good- ness of the divine nature is a part of necessary truth. Thus, morality, although not asserted to depend on the will of the Deity, is still resolvable into his nature. In all this. Price avowedly follows Cud worth. He then starts another difficulty. May not our faculties be mistaken, or be so constituted as to deceive us r To which he gives the reply, made familiar to us by Hamilton, that the doubt is suicidal; the faculty that donMs being itself under the same imputation. Nay, more, a being cannot be made such as to be imposed on by falsehood ; what is false is nothing. As to the cases of actual mistake, these refer to matters attended with some difficulty ; and it does not follow that we must be mistaken in cases that are clear. He concludes with a statement of the ultimate grounds of our belief. These are, (1) Consciousness or Feeling, as in regard to our own existence, our sensations, passions, &c.; (2) Intuition, comprising self-evident truths; and (3) Deduc- tion, or Argumentation. He discusses under these the exist- ence of a material world, and affirms that we have an Intuition that it is possible. Chapter VI. considers Fitness and Moral Obligation, and other p.'evailing forms of expression regarding morality. Fitness and Unfitness denote Congrnity or Incongruity, and are necessarily a perception of the Understanding. The term Obligation is more perplexing. Still, it is but another name for Tightness. What is Right is, by that very- fact, obligatory. Obligation, therefore, cannot be the creature 202 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— PRICE. of law, for law may command what is morally wrong. The will of God enforced by rewards and punishments cannot make right ; it would only determine what is prudent. Re- wards and punishments do not make obligation, but suppose it. Rectitude is a Law, the authoritative guide of a rational being. It is Supreme, universal, unalterable, and indispen- sable. Self-valid and self-originated, it stands on immovable foundations. Being the one authority in nature, it is, in short, the Divine authority. Even the obligations of religion are but branches of universal rectitude. The Sovereign Authority is not the mere result of his Almighty Power, but of this conjoined with his necessary perfections and infinite excellence. He does not admit that obligation implies an obligor. He takes notice of the objection that certain actions may be right, and yet we are not bound to perform them ; such are acts of generosity and kindness. But his answer throws no farther light on his main doctrine. In noticing the theories of other writers in the same vein, as Wollaston, he takes occasion to remark that, together with the . perception of conformity or fitness, there is a simple immediate perception urging us to act according to that fitness, for which no farther reason can be assigned. When we compare innocence and eternal misery, we are struck with the idea of unsuitablenc ^s, and are inspired in consequence with intense repugnance. Chapter VII. discusses the Heads or Divisions of Virtue; under which he enquires first what are virtuous actions; secondly, what is the true principle or motive of a virtuous agent ; and thirdly, the estimate of the degrees of virtue. He first quotes Butler to show that all virtue is not summed up in Benevolence ; repeating that there is an in- trinsic rectitude in keeping faith ; and giving the usual argu- ments against Utility, grounded on the supposed crimes that might be committed on this plea. He is equally opposed to those that would deny disinterested benevolence, or would resolve beneficence into veracit3^ He urges against Hutcheson, that, these being independent and distinct virtues, a distinct sense would be necessary to each ; in other words, we should, for the whole of virtue, need a plurality of moral senses. His classification of Virtue comprehends (1) Duty to God, which he dilates upon at some length. (2) Duty to Ourselves, wherein he maintains that our sense of self-interest is not enough for us. (3) Beneficence, the Good of others. (4) Grati- PRACTICAL MORALITY. 203 tnde. (5) Veracity, which he inculcates with great earnest- ness, adverting especially to impartiality and honesty in onr enquiries after truth. (6) Justice, which he treats in its appli- cation to the Rights of Property. He considers that the diificulties in practice arise partly from the conflict of the different heads, and partly from the different modes of apply- ing the same principles ; which he gives as an answer to the objection from the great differences of men's moral sentiments and practices. He allows, besides, that custom, education, and example, may blind and deprave our intellectual and moral powers ; but denies that the whole of our notions and sentiments could result from education. No amount of depra- vity is able utterly to destroy our moral discernment. Chapter YllL treats ot Intention as au element in virtuous action. He makes a distinction between Virtue in the Abstract and Virtue in Practice, or with reference to all the circumstances of the agent. A man may do abstract wrong, through mistake, while as he acts with his best judgment and with upright intentions, he is practically right. He grounds on this a powerful appeal against every attempt at dominion over conscience. The requisites of Practical Morality are (1) Liberty, or Free-will, on which he takes the side of free-agency. (2) Intelligence, without w^hich there can be no perception of good and evil, and no moral agency. (3) The Consciousness of Rectitude, or Righteous Intention. On this he dw^ls at some length. ISTo action is properly the action of a moral agent unless designed by him. A virtuous motive is essential to virtue. On the question — Is Benevolence a virtuous motive? lie replies : Not the Instinctive benevolence of the parent, but only Rational benevolence ; which he allows to coincide with rectitude. Reason presiding over Self-love renders it a virtuous principle likewise. The presence of Reason in greater or less degree is the criterion of the greater or less virtue of any action. Chapter IX. is on the different Degrees of Virtue and Vice, and the modes of estimating them ; the DiflBculties attending the Practice of Virtue; the use of Trials, and the essentials of a good or a bad Character. The considerations adduced are a number of perfectly well-known maxims on the practice of morality, and scarcely add anything to the elucidation of the author's Moral Theory. The concluding chaj^ter, on Natural Religion, contains nothing original. To sura up the views of Price : — I. — As regards the Moral Standard, he asserts that a percep* 204 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— PRICE. tion of the Reason or the Understanding, — a sense of fitness or congruity between actions and the agents, and all the circum- stances attending them, — is what determines Right and Wrong. He finds it impracticable to maintain his position without sundry qualifications, as we have seen. Virtue is naturally adapted to please every observing mind ; vice the contrary. Right actions must be grateful, wrong ungrateful to us. To behold virtue is to admire her. In contemplating the actions of moral agents, we have both a perception of the under- standing and a feehng of the heart. He thus re-admits an element of feeling, along with the intellect, in some undefined degree ; contending only that all tyioralUy is not to be resolved into feeling or instinct. We have also noticed another singu- lar admission, to the effect that only superior natures can dis- cover virtue by the understanding. Reason alone, did we possess it in a high degree, would answer all the ends of the passions. Parental afiection would be unnecessary, if parents were sufficiently alive to the reasons of supporting the young, and were virtuous enough to be always determined by them. Utility, although not the sole ground of Justice, is yet ad- mitted to be one important reason or ground of many of its maxims. II. — The nature of the Moral Faculty, in Price's theory, is not a separate question from the standard, but the same question. His discussion takes the form of an enquiry into the Faculty: — 'What is the pow^c- within us that perceives the distinctions of Right and Wrong ? ' The two questions are mixed up throughout, to the detriment of precision in the reasoning. With his usual facility of making concessions to other principles, he says it is not easy to determine how far our natural sentiments may be altered by custom, education, and example: while it would be unreasonable to conclude that all is derived from these sources. That part of our moral constitution depending on instinct is liable to be corrupted by custom and education to almost any length ; but the most depraved can never sink so low as to lose all moral dis- cernment, all ideas of just and unjust ; of which he offers the singular proof that men are never wanting in resentment when they are themselves the objects of ill-treatment. As regards the Psychology of Disinterested Action, he pro- vides nothing but a repetition of Butler (Chapter III.) and a vague assertion of the absurdity of denying disinterested benevolence. WOEKINGS OF SYMPATHY. 205 IIL — On Human Happiness, lie has only a few genzvaX remarks. Happiness is an object of essential and eternal value. Happiness is the end, and the OJihj end, conceivable by us, of God's providence and government ; but He pursues this end in subordination to rectitude. Virtue J:ends to happiness, but does not always secure it. A person tha^ sacrifices his life rather than violate his conscience, or betraj his country, gives up all possibility of any present reward^ and loses the more in proportion as his virtae is more glorious. Neither on the Moral Code, nor in the relations of Ethica to PoUtics and to Theology, are any further remarks on Price called for. ADAM SMITH. [1723-90.] The * Theory of the Moral Sentiments ' is a work of great extent and elaboration. It is divided into five Parts ; each part being again divided into Sections, and these subdivided into Chapters. Part I. is entitled. Of the Propriety of AcriON. Section I. is, ' Of the Sense of Projjrietij,' Propriety is his word for Rectitude or Right. Chapter I., entitled, ' Of Sympathy,' is a felicitous illus- tration of the general nature and workings of Sympathy. He calls in the experience of all mankind to attest the existence of our sympathetic impulses. He shows through what medium sympathy operates ; namely, by our placing ourselves in the situation of the other party, and imagining what we should feel in that case. He produces the most notable examples of the impressions made on us by our witnessing the actions, the pleasurable and the painful ex- pression of others ; effects extending even to fictitious repre- sentations. He then remarks that, although on some occasions, we take on simply and purely the feelings manifested in our presence, — the grief or joy of another man, yet this is far from the universal case : a display of angry passion may produce in us hostility and disgust; but this very result may be owing to our sympathy for the person likely to suffer from the anger. So our sympathy for grief or for joy is imperfect until we know the cause, and may be entirely suppressed. We take the whole situation into view, as well as the expression of the feeling. Hence we often feel for another person what that person does not feel for himself; we act out our own view of the situation, not his. We feel for the insane what they do not feel ; we sympathize even with the dead. 206 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — ^ADAM SMITH. Chapter 11. is * Of the Pleasure of Mutual Sympathy.' It contains illustrations of the delight that we experience in the sympathy of others ; we being thereby strengthened in our plea- sures and relieved in our miseries. He observes that we demand this sympathy more urgently for our painful emotions than for such as are pleasurable ; we are especially intolerant of the omission of our friends to join in our resentments. On the other hand, we feel pleasure in the act of sympathizing, and find in that a compensation for the pain that the sight of pain gives us. Still, this pleasure may be marred if the other party's own expression of grief or of joy is beyond what we think suitable to the situation. Chapter III. considers ' the manner of our judging of the propriety of other men's afi'ections by their consonance with our own.' The author illustrates the obvious remark, that we approve of the passions of another, if they are such as we ourselves should feel in the same situation. We require that a man's expression and conduct should be suitable to the occasion, according to our own standard of judging, namely, our own procedure in such cases. Chapter IV. continues the subject, and draws a distinction between two cases; the case where the objects of a feeling do not concern either ourselves or the person himself, and the case where they do concern one or other. The first case is shown in matters of taste and science, where we derive pleasure from sympathy, but yet can tolerate difference. The otlier case is exemplified in our personal fortunes ; in these, we cannot endure any one refusing us their sympathy. Still, it is to be noted that the sympathizer does not fully attain the level of the sufierer ; hence the sufferer, aware of this, and desiring the satisfaction of a full accord with his friend, tones down his own vehemence till it can be fnlly met by the other ; which very circumstance is eventually for his own good, and adds to, rather than detracts from, the tranquillizing influence of a friendly presence. We sober down our feelings still more before casual acquaintance and strangers *, and hence the greater equality of temper in the man of the world than in the recluse. Chapter Y. makes an application of these remarks to ex- plain the difference between the Amiable and the Respectable Virtues. The soft, the gentle, and the amiable qualities are manifested when, as sympathizers, we enter fully into the expressed sentiments of another ; the great, the awful and respectable virtues of self-denial, are shown when the princi* THE PASSIONS AS CONSISTENT WITH PROPRIETY. 207 pal person concerned brings down his own case to the level that the most ordinary sympathy can easily attain to. The one is the virtue of giving much, the other of expecting little. Section II. is ' Of the Degrees of the different passioiis which are consistent with propriety.'' Under this head he reviews the leading passions, remarks how far, and why, we can sympa- thize with each. Chapter I. is on the Passions having their origin in the body. We can sympathize with hunger to a certain limited extent, and in certain circumstances ; but we can rarely tolerate any very prominent expression of it. The same limitations apply to the passion of the sexes. We partly sympathize with bodily pain, but not with the violent expres- sion of it. These feelings are in marked contrast to the passions seated in the imagination : wherein our appetite for sympathy is complete ; disappointed love or ambition, loss of friends or of dignity, are suitable to representation in art. On the same principle, we can sympathize with danger ; as regards our power of conceiving, we are on a level with the sufferer. From our inability to enter into bodily pain, we the more admire the man that can bear it with firmness. Chapter II. is on certain Passions depending on a peculiar turn of the Imagination. Under this he exemplifies cliiefly the situation of two lovers, with whose passion, in its inten- sity, a third person cannot sympathize, although one may enter into the hopes of happiness, and into the dangers and calami- ties often flowing from it. Chapter III. is on the Unsocial Passions. These neces- sarily divide our sympathy between him that feels them and him that is their object. Resentment is especially hard to sympathize with. We may ourselves resent wrong done to another, but the less so that the sufferer strongly resents it. Moreover, there is in the passion itself an element of the dis- agreeable and repulsive ; its manifestation is naturally dis- tasteful. It may be useful and even necessary, but so is a prison, which is not on that account a pleasant object. In order to make its gratification agreeable, there must be many well known conditions and qualifications attending it. Chajiter lY. gives the contrast of the Social Passions. It is with the humane, the benevolent sentiments, that our sym- pathy is unrestricted and complete. Even in their excess, they never inspire aversion. Chapter V. is on the Selfish Passions. He supposes these, in regard to sympathy, to hold a middle place between the 208 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— ADAM SMITH. Bocial and the nnsocial. "We sympathize with small joys and with great sorrows ; and not with great joys (which dispense with our aid, if they do not excite our envy) or with small troubles. Section III. considers the effects of prosperity and adversity upon the judgments of manhind regarding propriety of action. Chapter I. puts forward the proposition that our sympathy with sorrow, although more lively than our sympathy with joy, falls short of the intensity of feeling in the person con- cerned. It is agreeable to sympathize with joy, and we do so with the heart ; the painfulness of entering into grief and misery holds ns back. Hence, as he remarked before, the magnanimity and nobleness of the man that represses his woes, and does not exact our compassionate participation. Chapter II. inquires into the origin of Ambition, and of the distinction of Ranks. Proceeding upon the principle just enounced, that mankind sympathize with joy rather than with sorrow, the author composes an exceedingly eloquent homily on the worship paid to rank and greatness. Chapter III., in continuation of the same theme, illustrates the corruption of our moral sentiments, arising from this worship of the great. ' We frequently see the respectful attentions of the world more strongly directed towards the rich and the great, than towards the wise and the virtuous.* * The external graces, the frivolous accomplishments of that impertinent and foolish thing called a man of fashion, are commonly more admired than the solid and masculine virtues of a warrior, a statesman, a philosopher, or a legislator.* Part II. is Of Merit and Demerit ; or of the objects op Heward and Punishment. It consists of three Sections. Section I. is, Of the Sense of Merit and Demerit, Chapter I. maintains that whatever appears to be the proper object of gratitude, appears to deserve reward ; and that whatever appears to be the proper object of resentment, appears to deserve punishment. The author distinguishes between gratitude and mere love or liking ; and, obversely, between resentment and hatred. Love makes ns pleased to see any one promoted ; but gratitude urges us to be ourselves the instrument of their promotion. Chapter II. determines the proper objects of Gratitude and Resentment, these being also the proper objects of Reward and Punishment respectively. ' These, as well as all the other passions of human nature, seem proper, and are approved of, when the heart of every impartial sijeciator entirely sympathizes MERIT AND DEMERIT. 209 with them, when every indifferent bj-stander entirely enters into, and goes along with them.' In short, a good moral decision is obtained by the nnanimons vote of all impartial persons. This view is in accordance with the course taken by the mind in the two contrasting situations. In sympathizing with the joy of a prosperous person, we approve of his complacent and grateful sentiment towards the author of his prosperity ; we make his gratitude our own : in sympathizing with sorrow, we enter into, and approve of, the natural resentment towards the agent causing it. Chapter III. remarks that where we do not approve of the conduct of the person conferring the benefit, we have little sympathy with the gratitude of the receiver ; we do not care to enter into the gratitude of the favourites of profligate monarchs. Chapter lY. supposes the case of our approving strongly the conduct and the motives of a benefactor, in which case we sympathize to a correspondiag degree with the gratitude of the receiver. Chapter V. sums up the analysis of the Sense of Merit and of Demerit thus : — The sense of Merit is a compound senti- ment, made up of two distinct emotions ; a direct s^mipathy with the sentiments of the agent (constituting the propriety of the action), and an indirect sympathy with the gratitude of the recipient. The sense of Demerit includes a direct anti- pathy to the sentiments of the agent, and an indirect sym- pathy with the resentment of the sufferer. (Section II. is Of Justice and Beaeficnice. Chapter I. compares the two virtues. Actions of a bene- ficent tendency, from proper motives, seem aloie to require a reward ; actions of a hurtful tendency, from improper motives, seem alone to deserve punishment. It is the nature of Bene- ficence to be free ; the mere absence of it does not expose to punishment. Of all the duties of bene Sconce, the one most allied to perfect obligation is gi^atitude ; but although we talk of the debt of gratitude (we do not say the debt of charity'), we do not punish ingratitude. Resentment, the source of punishment, i'? given for defence against positive evil ; we emploj^ it not to extort benefits, but to repel injuries. Now, the injury is the violation of Justice. The sense of mankind goes along with the employment of violence to avenge the hurt done by injustice, to prevent the injury, and to restrain the offender. Beneficence, then, is the 210 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — ADAM SMITH. subject of reward ; and the want of it is not the subject (rf punishment. There may be cases where a beneficent act is compelled by punishment, as in obliging a father to support his family, or in punishing a man for not interfering when another is in danger ; but these cases are immaterial excep- tions to the broad definition. He might have added, that in cases where justice is performed under unusual difficulties, and with unusual fidelity, our disposition would be not merely to exempt from punishment, but to reward. Chapter II. considers the sense of Justice, Remorse, and the feeling of Merit. Every man is recommended by nature to his own care, being fitter to take care of himself than of another person. We approve, therefore, of each one seeking their own good ; but then it must not be to the hurt of any other being. The primary feeling of self-preservation would not of itself, how- ever, be shocked at causing injury to our fellows. It is when we pass out of this point of view, and enter into the mental state of the spectator of our actions, that we feel the sense of injustice and the sting of Remorse. Though it may be true that every individual in his own breast prefers himself to man- kind, yet he dares not look mankind in the face, and avow that he acts on this principle. A man is approved when he outstrips his fellows in a fair race ; he is condemned when he jostles or trips up a competitor unfairly. The actor takes home to himself this feeling ; a feeling known as Shame, Dread of Punishment, and Remorse. So with the obverse. He that performs a generous action can realize the sentiments of the by-stander, and applaud himself by sympathy with the approbation of the supposed impartial judge. This is the sense of Merit. Chapter III. gives reflections upon the utility of this con- stitution of our nature. Human beings are dependent upon one another for mutual assistance, and are exposed to mutual injuries. Society might exist without love or beneficence, but not without mutual abstinence from injury. Beneficence is the ornament that embellishes the building ; Justice the main pillar that supports it. It is for the observance of Justice that we need that consciousness of ill-desert, and those terrors of mental punishment, growing out of our sympathy with the disapprobation of our fellows. Justice is necessary to the existence of society, and we otten defend its dictates on that ground ; but, without looking to such a remote and com- prehensive end, we are plunged into remorse for ^^^ v- ' INFLUENCE OF FORTUNE ON MEKIT AND DEMERIT. 211 by the shorter process of referring to the censure of a sup- posed spectator [in other words, to the sanction of public opinion]. Section III. — Of the influence of Fortune upon the senti- ments of manlcind, ivith regard to the Merit and the Demerit of actions. Every voluntary action consists of three parts : — (1) the Intention or motive, (2) the Mechanism, as when we lift the hand, and give a blow, and (oj the Conset[uences. It is, in principle, admitted by all, that only the first, the Intention, can be the subject of blame. The Mechanism is in itself indifferent. So the Consequences cannot be properly imputed to the agent, unless intended by him. On this last point, however, mankind do not always adhere to their general maxim; when they come to particular cases, they are in- fluenced, in their estimate of merit and demerit, by the actual consequences of the action. Cliapterl. considers the causes of this influence of Fortune. Gratitude requires, in the first instance, that some pleasure should have been conferred ; Kesentment pre-supposes pain. These passions require farther that the object of them should itself be susceptible of pleasure and pain ; they should be human beings or animals. Thirdly, It is requisite that they should have produced the effects from a design to do so. Now, the absence of the pleasurable consequences intended by a beneficent agent leaves out one of the exciting causes of gratitude, although including another; the absence of the painful consequences of a maleficent act leaves out one of the exciting causes of resentment ; hence less gratitude seems due in the one, and less resentment in the other. Chapter II. treats of the extent of this influence of Fortune. The effects of it are, first, to diminish, in our eyes, the merit of laudable, and the demerit of blameable, actions, when they fail of their intended effects ; and, secondly, to increase the feelings of merit and of demerit beyond what is due to the motives, when the actions chance to be followed by extra- ordinary pleasure or pain. Success enhances our estimate of all great enterprises ; failure takes off" the edge of our resent- ment of great crimes. The author thinks (Chapter III.) that final causes can be assigned for this irregularity of Sentiments. In the first place, it would be highly dangerous to seek out and to resent mere bad intentions. In the next place, it is desirable that beneficent wishes should be put to the proof by results. And, 212 ETHICAL SYSTEMS — ADAM SMITH. lastly, as regards the tendency to resent evil, although iiil» intended, it is good to a certain extent that men should be taught intense circumspection on the point of infringing one another's happiness. Part III. is entitled Of the Foundation op our judgments concerning our own sentiments and conduct, and of the Sense of Duty. Chapter I. is ' Of the Principle of Self-approbation and of Self-disapprobation.' Having previously assigned the origin of our judgments respecting others, the author now proceeds to trace out our judgments respecting ourselves. The explana- tion is still the same. We approve or disapprove of our own conduct, according as we feel that the impartial spectator would approve or disapprove of it. To a solitary human being, moral judgments would never exist. A man would no more think of the merit and demerit of his sentiments than of the beauty or deformity of his own face. Such criticism is exercised iirst upon other beings ; but the critic cannot help seeing that he in his turn is criticised, and he is thereby led to apply the common standard to his own actions; to divide himself as it were into two persons — • the examiner or judge, and person examined into, or judged of. He knows what cooduct of his will be approved of by others, and what condemned, according to the standard he himself employs upon others ; his concurrence m this appro- bation or disapprobation is self-approbation or self-disapproba- tion. The happy consciousness of virtue is the consciousness of the favourable regards of other men. Chapter II. is ' Of the love of Praise, and of Praise- worthiness ; the dread of Blame, and of Blame-worthiness ;' a long and important chapter. The author endeavours to trace, according to his principle of sympathy, the desire of Praise-worthiness, as well as of Pi-aise. We approve certain conduct in others, and are thus disposed to approve the same conduct in ourselves : what we praise as judges of our fellow- men, we deem praise-worthy, and aspire to realize in our own conduct. Some men may differ from us, and may withhold that praise; we may be pained at the circumstance, but we adhere to our love of the praise-worthy, even when it does not bring the praise. When we obtain the praise we are pleased, and strengthened in our estimate ; the approbation that we receive contirms our self-approbation, but does not give birth to it. In short, there are two principles at work within us. We are pleased with approbation, and pained by INFLUENCE AND AUTHORITY OF CONSCIENCE. 213 reproach : we are farther pleased if the approbation coin- cides with what we approve when we are ourselves acting as judges of other men. The two dispositions vary in their strength in individuals, confirming each other when in concert, thwarting each other when opposed. The author has painted a number of striking situations arising out of theii' conflict. He enquires why we are more pained by un- merited reproach, than Hfted up by unmerited approbation ; and assigns as the reason that the painful state is more pungent than the corresponding pleasurable state. He shows how those men whose productions are of uncertain merit, as poets, are more the slaves of approbation, than the authors of uumistakeable discoveries in science. In the extreme cases of unmerited reproach, he points oat the appeal to the all- seeing Judge of the world, and to a future state rightly con- ceived ; protesting, however, against the view that would reserve the celestial regions for monks and friars, and condemn to the infernal, all the heroes, statesmen, poets, and philo- sophers of former ages ; all the inventors of the useful arts ; the protectors, instructors, and benefactors of mankind ; and all those to whom our natural sense of praise-worthmess forces us to ascribe the highest merit and most exalted virtue. Chapter HI. is * On the inflaence and authority of Con- science ;' another long chapter, occupied more with moral reflections of a practical kind than with the following out of the analysis of our moral sentiment. Conceding that the testi- mony of the supposed impartial spectator does not of itself always support a man, he yet asserts its inflaence to be great, and that by it alone we can see what relates to ourselves in the proper shape and dimensions. It is only in this way that we can prefer the interest of many to the interest of one ; the interest of others to our own. To fortify us in this hard lesson two diflerent schemes have been proposed ; one to increase our feelings for others, the other to diminish our feelings for ourselves. The first is prescribed by the whining and melancholy moralists, who will never allow us to be happy, because at every moment many of our fellow-beings are in misery. The second is the doctrine of the Stoics, who annihilate self-interest in favour of the vast commonwealth of nature ; on that the author bestows a lengthened comment and correction, founded on his theory of regulating the mani. festations of joy or grief by the light of the impartial judge. He gives his own panacea for human misery, namely, the power of nature to accommodate men to their permanent situ- 214 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— ADA.M SMITH. ation, and to restore tranquillity, which is the one secret of happiness. Chapter IV. handles Self-Deceit, and the Origin and Use of General Rules. The interference of our passions is the great obstacle to our holding towards ourselves the position of an impartial spectator. From this notorious fact the author deduces an argument against a special moral faculty, or moral sense ; he says that if we had such a faculty, it would surely judge our own passions, which are the most clearly laid open to it, more correctly than the passions of others. To correct our self-partiality and self-deceit is the u?e of general rules. Our repeated observations on the tendency of particular acts, teach us what is fit to be done generally ; and our conviction of the propriety of the general rules is a power- ful motive for applying them to our own case. It is a mistake to suppose, as some have done, that rules precede experience ; on the contrary, they are formed by finding fiom experience that all actions of a certain kind, in certain circumstances, arv appioved of. When established, we appeal to them as stan- dards of judgment in right and wrong, but they are not the original judgments of mankind, nor the ultimate foundations of moral sentiment. Chapter V. continues the subject of the authority and in- fluence of General Rules, maintaining that they are justly regarded as laws of the Deity. The grand advantngo of general rules is to give steadiness to human conduct, and to enable us to resist our temporary varieties of temper and dis- position. They are thus a grand security for hunian duties. That the important rules of morality should be accounted laws of the Deity is a natural sentiment. Men have always ascribed to their deities their own seniiments and passions; the deities held by them in special reverence, they have endowed with their highest ideal of excellence, the love of virtue and bene- ficence, and the abhorieuce of vice and injustice. The re- searches of philosophical inquiry confirmed mankind in the suppobition that the moral faculties carry the badge of autho- rity, that they were intended as the governing principles of our nature, acting as the vicegerents of the Deity. This inference is confirmed by the view that the happiness of men, and of other rational creatures, is the original design of the Author of nature, the only pui-po.-e recoiicilable wiih the perfections we asciibe to him. Chapter VI. is on the cases where the Sense of Duty Bhoald be the sole motive of conduct : and on those where it THE EFFECT OF UTILITY ON MORAL APPROBATION. 215 oaght to join with other motives. Allowing the import- ance of religiou among hnman motives, he does not concur with the view that would make religious considerations the sole laudable motives of action. The sense of duty is not the only principle of our conduct ; it is the ruling or governing one. It may be a question, however, on what occasions we aie to proceed strictly by the sense of duty, and on what occasions give way to some other sentiment or affection. The author answers that in the actions prompted by benevolent affections, we are to follow out our sentiments as much aa oar sense of duty; and the contrary with the malevolent passions. As to the selfish passions, we are to follow duty in small matters, and self-interest in great. But the rules of duty predominate most in cases where they are determined \^dth exactness, that is, in the virtue of Justice. Part IY. Of the effect of Utility upon tre Sentiment OF Approbation. Chapter I. is on the Beauty arising out of Utility. It is here that the author sets forth the dismal career of ' the poor man's son, whom heaven in the hour of her anger has curst with ambition,' and enforces his favourite moral lesson of contentment and tranquillity. Chapter II. is the connexion of Utility with Moral Appro- bation. Tliere are many actions possessing the kind of beauty or charm arising from utility ; and hence, it may be main- tained (as was done by Hume) that our whole approbation of virtue may be explained on this principle. And it may be granted that there is a coincidence between our sentiments of approbation or disapprobation, and the useful or hurtful qualities of actions. Still, the author holds that this utility or hurtfulness is not the foremost or principal source of our approbation. In the first place, he thinks it incongruous that we should have no other reason for praising a man than for praising a chest of drawers. In the next place, he contends at length that the uselulness of a disposition of mind is seldom the first ground of our approbation. Take, for example, the qualities useful to ourselves — reason and self-command ; we approve the first as just and accurate, before we are aware of its being useful ; and as to self-command, we approve it quite as much for its propriety as for its utility ; it is the coincidence of our opinion with the opinion of the spectator, and not au estimate of the comparative utility, that affects us. Regarding^ the qualities useful to others — huinanitv-, generosity, public spirit and justice — he merely repeats bis own theory that they 216 ETHICAL SYSTEMS— ADAM SMITH. are approved by our entering into the view of the impartial spectator. The examples cited only show that these virtues are not approved from self-interest ; as when the soldier throws away his life to gain something for his sovereign. He also puts the case of a solitary human being, who might see fitness in actions, but could not feel moral approbation. Part V. The ofluence of Custom on the Moral Senti- ments. The first chapter is a pleasing essay on the influence of custom and fashion on manners, dress, and in Fine Art generally. The second chapter makes the application to our moral sentiments. Although custom will never reconcile us to the conduct of a Nero or a Claudius, it will heighten or blunt the delicacy of our sentiments on right and wrong. The fashion of the times of Charles II. made dissoluteness reputable, and discountenanced regularity of conduct. There is a custom- ary behaviour that we expect in the old and in the young, in the clergyman and in the military man. The situations of different ages and countries develop characteristic qualities — endurance in the savage, humanity and softness in the civilized community. Bat these are not the extreme instances of the principle. We find particular usages, where custom has ren dered lawful and blameless actions, that shock the plainest principles of right and wrong; the most notorious and universal is infanticide. Part VI. The character of Virtue. Section I. is on Frudence, and is an elegant essay on the leau ideal of the prudential character Section II. considers character as affecting other people. Chapter L is a disquisition on the comparative priority of the objects of our regard. After self, which must ever have the first place, the members of our own family are recommended to our consideration. Remoter connexions of blood are more or less regarded according to the customs of the country ; in pastoral countries clanship is manifested ; in commercial countries distant rela- tionship becomes indifferent. Official and business connexions, and the association of neighbourhood, determine friendships. Special estimation is a still preferable tie. Favours received determine and require favours in return. The distinction of ranks is so far founded in nature as to deserve our respect. Lastly, the miserable are recommended to our compassion. Next, as regards societies (Chap. 11. ), since our own country stands first in our regard, the author dilates on the virtues of a good citizen. Finally, although our effectual good ofiices may not extend beyond our country, our good-will may THE VIRTUES. 217 embrace tlie whole universe. This universal benevolence, however, the author thinks must repose on the belief in a benevolent and all-wise governor of the world, as realized, for example, in the meditations of Marcus Antoninus. Section III. Of Self-command. On this topic the author produces a splendid moral essay, in which he describes the various modes of our self- estimation, and draws a contrast between pride and vanity. In so far as concerns his Ethical tbeory, he has still tbe same criterion of the virtue, the degree and mode commended by the impartial spectator. Part YII. Of Systems of Moral Philosophy. On this we need only to remark that it is aa interesting and valuable contribution to the history and the criticism of the Ethical systems.* The Ethical theory of Adam Smith may be thus summed I. — The Ethical Standard is the judgment of an impartial spectator or critic ; and our own judgments are derived by reference to what this spectator would approve or disapprove. Probably to no one has this ever appeared a sufficient account of Right and Wroug. It provides against one defect, the self-partiality of the agent ; but gives no account whatever of the grounds of the critic's own judgment, and makes no provision against his fallibility. It may be very well on points where men's moral sentiments are tolerably unanimous, but it • It is perhaps worth while to quote a sentence or two, giving the author's opinion on the theory of the Moral Sense. ' Aj^ainst every account of the principle of apprt b ition, which makes it depend upon a peculiar sentiment, distinct from every other, I would object, that it is strange that this sentiment, which Providence undoubtedly intended to be the governing principle of human nature, should hitherto have been so little taken notice of, as not to have ijot a name in any language. The ■word Moral Sense is of very late formation, and cannot yet be considered as making part of the English tongue. The word approbation has but within these few years been iippropr.ated to denote peculiarly anything of this kind. In proprit ty of Ian uage we approve of whatever is entirely to our Satisfaction — of the form of a building, of the contrivance of a machine, of the flavour of a dish of meat. The word conscience does not immediately denote any moral faculty by which we approve or disapprove. C0772. the Preface. D. APPLETON & CO/8 PUBLICATIONS. COMPARATIVE LITERATURE. By Hutcheson Macaulat PoSNETT, M. D., LL. D., Professor of Classics and English Literature, University College, Auckland, New Zealand, author of " The Histori- cal Method," etc. 12mo. Cloth, $1.75. " Scarcely a volumR in ' The International Scientific Series ' appeals to a wider constituency than this, for it should interest men of science by its attempt to apply the scientific method to the study of comparative literature, and men of letters by its analysis and grouping of imaginative works of various epochs and nations. The author's theory is that the key to the study of comparative literature is the gradual expansion of social nle from clan to city, ftom city to nation, and from both of these to cosmopolitan humanity. His survey extends from the rudest beginnings of song to the poetry of the present day, and at each stage of his study he links the literary expression of a people with their social development and conditions. Such a study could not easily fail of interesting and curious results."— jSoston Journal MAMMALIA IN THEIR RELATION TO PRIMEVAL TIMES. By Professor Oscar Schmidt, author of "The Doctrine of Descent and Darwinism." With ol Woodcuts. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. " Professor Schmidt was one of the best authorities on the subject which he has here treated with the knowledge derived from the studies of a lifetime. We use the past tense in speaking of liim, because, since this book was printed, its accomplished author has died in the fullness of his powers. Although he pre- pared it nominally for the use of advanced students, there are few if any pages m his book which can not be readily understood by the ordinary reader. As the title implies. Professor Schmidt has traced the links of connection between existing mammalia and those types of which are known to us only through the disclosures of geology."'— iVew York Journal of Commerce. " The history of the development of animals and the history of the earth and geography are made to confirm one another. The book is illustrated with wood- cuts, which will prove both interesting and instructive. It tells of living mam- malia, pii^s, hippopotami, camels, deer, antelopes, oxen, rhinoceroses, horses, elephants, sea-cows, whales, dogs, seals, insect-eaters, rodents, bats, semi-apes, apes and their ancestors, and the man of the future."— /SyrocMse (iV^. Y.) Heraid. ANTHROPOID APES. By Robert Hartmann, Professor in the University of Berlin. With 63 Illustrations. 12mo. Cloth, $1.75. "The anthropoid, or manlike or tailless, apes include the gorilla and chimpanzee of tropical Africa, the orang of Borneo and Sumatra, and the gibbons of the East Indies, India, and some other parts of Asia. '1 be author of the present work has given much attention to the group. Like m est hving z(.ologists he is an evolutionist, and holds that man can not have descended from any of the fossil species which have hitherta come under our notice, nor yet from any of the species now extant; it is more probable that both types have been produced from a common ground-form which has become extinct." — The Nation. •' It will be found, by those who follow the author's exegesis with the heed and candor it deserves, that the simian ancestry of man does not as yet rest upon such solid and perfected proofs as to warrant the assumption of absolute certainty in which materialists indulse." — Neiu York Sun. "The work is necessarily less complete than Huxley's monograph on 'The Cray- fish,' or Mivart's on 'The Cat,' but it is a worthy companion of those brilliant works? and in saying this we bestow praise equally high and deserved."— 5osto?i Gazette. New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street. D. APPLET ON & CO/S PUBLIOATIONS. THE GEOGRAPHICAL AND GEOLOGICAL DISTRI- BUTIOX OF ANIMALS. By Angelo Heilprin, Professor of Invertebrate Paleontology at the Academy of Natural Sciences, Philadelphia, etc. 12mo. $2.00. " An important contribntion to physical science is Angelo Heilprin'B ' Geo- graphical and Geological Distribution of Animals.' The author has aimed to present to his readers such of the more significant facts connected with the past and present distribution of animal life as might lead to a proper conception of the relations of existing fauna, and also to furuish the student with a work of general reference, wherein the more salient features of the geography and geolo- gy of animal forms could be readily ascertained. While this book is addressed chiefly to the naturalist, it contains much information, particularly on the sub- ject of the geographical distribution of animals, the rapidly increasing growth of some species and the gradual extinction of others, which wiU interest and in- struct the general reader. Mr. Heilprin is no believer in the doctrine of inde- pandent creation, but holds that animate nature must be looked upon as a con- crete whole."— J\'ez^; York Sun. MICROBES, FERMENTS, AND MOULDS. By E. L. Troues- SART. With 107 Illustrations. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50. " Microbes are everywhere ; every species of plant has its special parasites, the vine hav'ng more than one hundred foes of this kind. Fungi of a microscopic size, they have their uses in nature, since they clear the surface of the earth from dead bodies and fecal matter, from all dead and useless substances which are th.e refuse of life, and return to the soil the i-oluble mineral substances from which plants are derived. All fermented liquors, wine, beer, vinegar, etc., are artificially produced by the species of microbes called ferments ; they also cause bread to rise. Others are injurious to us, for in the shape of spores and seeds they enter our bodies with air and water and cause a large number of the diseases to which the flesh is heir. Many physicians do not accept the microbian theory, consider- ing that when microbes are found in the blood they are neither the cause of the disease, nor the contagious element, nor the vehicle of contagion. In France the opponents of the microbian theory are Robin, Bechamp, and Jousset de Bellesme ; in England, Lewis and Lionel Beale. The writer comes to the conclusion that Pasteur's microbian theory is the only one that explains all factB."— A'tf?^ York Tinus. EARTHQUAKES AND OTHER EARTH MOVEMENTS. By John Milne, Professor of Mining and Geology in the Imperial College of Engineering, Tokio, Japan. With 38 Illustrations. 12mo. Cloth, $1.75. "In this little book Professor Milne has endeavored to bring tocetherall that je known concerning the nature and causes of earthquake movements. His task was one of much diflBcuity. Professor Milne's excellent work in the science of seismology has been done in Japan, in a region of incessant shocks of sufficient energy to make observation possible, yet. with rare exceptions, of no disastrous efiects. He has haa the good fortune to be aided by Mr. Thomas Gray, a gentle- man of great constructive skill, as well as hy Professors J. A. Ewing, W. S. Chap- lin, and his other colleacrues in the scientific colony which has gathered about the Imperial University of Japan. To these L'entlem'en we owe the best of our sci- ence of seismology, for before their achievements we had nothing of value con- cerning the physical conditions of earthquakes except the great works of Robert Mallet; and Mallet, with all his genius and devotion to the subject, had but few chances to observe the actual shocks, and so failed to understand many of their important features."— 2%€ Nation. \ New York: D. APPLETOX & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street. NEW CLASSICAL TEXTS DR. HARPER'S INDUCTIVE CLASSICAL SERIES: Harper and Burgess's Inductive Latin Primer. Cloth, i2mo, 424 pages ........ $1.00 Harper and Burgess's Inductive Latin Method. i2mo, cloth, 323 pages ........ 1.00 Harper and Tolman's Caesar. Eight books. i2mo, cloth, 512 pages. Illustrated . . . . . . .1.20 Harper and Miller's Vergil. Six books of the Aeneid. i2mo, cloth. X -[- 461 pages. Illustrated . . .1.25 Harper and Waters's Inductive Greek Method. By Dr. W. R. Harper and William E. Waters, Ph.D. i2mo, cloth, 355 pages ...... i.oo IN PREPARATION: An Inductive Greek Primer; Xenophon's Anabasis; Cicero's Orations ; Supplementary Reading Latin Prose Composition ; in Latin ; Supplementary Greek Reading ; Homer's Iliad ; Greek Prose Composition. OTHER STANDARD CLASSICAL WORKS Harkness's Easy Method for Beginners in Latin. i2mo, half seal, 348 pages. Illustrated $1.20 Harkness's Standard Latin Grammar. i2mo, cloth, 430 pages . . . . . . . . . .1.12 Lindsay's Satires of Juvenal. i6mo, half seal, pages xvi., 226. Illustrated i.oo Hadley and Allen's Greek Grammar. i2mo, cloth, 422 pages .......... 1.50 Section ij {Ancient Language) fully desci'ibes a large number of Greek and Latin Grammars, Methods, Readers, and Texts. It is sent free. Correspondence cordially invited, American Book Company New York Cincinnati Chicago Boston Atlanta (*97.) i. ms uuyjr^ is i^s^j— uii iiic lasi date stamped below. M 'HAY 2 ^ lOf^o M PECO MLO L>1 JUN 2 1966 iCURL SEP 2 3 RFg'O LO-UfW FEB - i ,r ■ pU'c i ■•■ iO-URi \H ui 966 Wo SANGL 10M-n-50(2555j470 | remington rand inc. Anvaan-i^^ 'f OO-? 36A 80A