^m' — •' LIBRARY , OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. CJm ?ilv PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT A TREATISE OF THE FACTS, PRINCIPLES, AND IDEALS OF ETHICS BY GEORGE TRUMBULL LADD PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN YALE UNIVERSITY NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1902 . L3 Copyright, 1902, By Charles Sckibner's Sons Published, February, 1902 x^iftKV- John Wilsox and Son, Cambuidge, U.S.A. Hn (grateful i^emorg OP A GOOD MAN — MY FATHER 101930 " He who does not unconditionally believe in the Might of Goodness in the world and in its final victory, he can no longer lead in human affairs — I do not say rightly, but even with any lasting success." RoTHE. PREFACE The number of voluminous works dealing with man's moral life and moral development which have recently appeared has been by no means inconsiderable. Among these some have been especially noteworthy, both for the array of phenomena which they have marshalled, and also for the scientific spirit and method which have characterized their treatment of these phenomena. It is difficult to say how much this fact discloses as to the revival of a more profound and vital interest in the study of morality — properly so-called. Doubtless the history of the evolution of the race on the side of manners and morals arouses in many minds only the same kind of curiosity as that to which the sciences of biology and anthropology are so vigor- ously ministering, all over the scientific world, at the present time. But such interest is by no means necessarily the equiv- alent of that which is demanded by the kind of inquiry upon which I have entered in this volume. For this inquiry pro- poses at least to raise, even if it cannot completely answer, the more ultimate problems of conduct as our experience forces them upon the reflective thinking of mankind. I have, therefore, called this treatise of human moral life and moral development a " Philosophy of Conduct." The title must not, however, be understood as though my proposal were to write a book on Ethics with only scanty re- gard for the actual facts of conduct, or for the current opin- ions of mankind respecting the significance and the value of these facts. As the introductory chapters expressly explain, and as the procedure and conclusions of the entire treatise make clear, I consider the " high-and-dry " a priori method Vlll PREFACE wholly unsuitable to ethics. Indeed, I may confidently ap- peal to all my previous work to show that such a method is unsuitable for adequate treatment of any of the various branches of philosophy, even the most purely metaphysical. For philosophy itself is the investigation and interpretation of the sum total of human experience ■>— with all its implicates — by the method of critical, harmonizing, and synthetic reflec- tive thinking. Ethics especially, however metaphysical it may become, must always remain practical. For ethics has its roots in facts of experience ; and its fruitage must be an im- provement of experience. The experience with which it deals is of conduct ; that is to say, the whole circle of morality lies within the practical life. And yet, the experience of man's moral being and moral evolution is also of such a nature as to demand a philosophical treatment throughout; for until fact is transcended the ethical is not reached. As I have clearly shown in this book, a merely empirical ethics, which is without metaphysics, leaves the mind in a region where all that has regard to the highest principles and more ultimate sanctions of conduct is darkened, if not wholly obscured, by doubt, confusion, and bewilderment. I have therefore aimed to give this treatise some special claim upon those who wish for a more fundamental discussion of ethical problems than has been customary of late ; and yet to conduct the discussion in the modern method and with due regard for all the interests involved. This aim has been realized in the following particular ways. In Part First, the nature of the Moral Self, or of man as equipped for the life of conduct, has been described as this nature appears in the light of psychological science, both individual and ethnic. Here the attempt has been made to adjust according to the actual known facts the conflicting claims of those who regard man's moral life throughout as a sort of divine, and once for all ready-made endowment and of those who, on the other hand, assume to explain morality as the result of a psycho- PREFACE ix physical, or an economic, or even a purely physiological evo- lution. This attempt has resulted in an analysis of man's ethical consciousness which is, so far as I am aware, at the same time more thorough and more modern than that at- tempted in any other similar treatise. In Part Second^ which treats of the Virtuous Life, it has been my aim to show how, in spite of the bewildering variety of opinions and practices which has always existed, there is still, and, so far as can be discovered, always has been, a very substantial agreement touching the characteristic traits and liabitual practices of the " good man." This agreement does not, however, favor any of the more current theories of the moralists regarding the true nature and unity of the virtues ; or regarding the nature and obligations of the so-called " Moral Law." But the argument, as based upon these facts of agreement, does lead to another conception, at once more subtly and delicately ideal and yet more truly and unchange- ably real, of both the nature of virtuous living, and of the laws and principles whose dominion and rational rights such living acknowledges, and to which it yields obedience and offers allegiance. And, finally, in Part Third I have discussed the Nature of the Right. It is, of course, this Part in which the method of philosophy is most prominently and unmistakably employed. For metaphysics is invoked to undertake the speculative solu- tion of those ultimate problems of ethics which an investiga- tion of the phenomena of man's moral life and moral evolu* tion from the empirical points of view leaves wholly unsolved. Yet the more distinctively philosophical third of this treatise should not be considered as in any respect independent of, not to say separated from, the treatment of man's moral self- hood and of the conditions and principles of his virtuous living. Only, whereas philosophy has subordinated itself to psychology and anthropology in the collection and interpretation, by primary intention as it were, of the phenomena, it finally X PREFACE answers the imperative demand of these sciences to construct a theory which shall offer a more ultimate explanation of the same phenomena. I make no apology for the frequent references to other works of mine which are found in this book. Properly and of neces- sity, the psychological views and theories which have been elsewhere discussed are here made use of in treating of the Moral Self and of the Virtuous Life. More especially im- portant has it been that certain truths regarding the nature of knowledge, of reality, and of the mind's life, should be as- sumed and carried up into the realm of ethical discussion, wherever this discussion shows the imperative need of receiv- ing illumination from these truths. For, in fact, psychology, epistemology, and metaphysics are all in some sort subordi- nate and contributory to ethics. The most important minis- trations to human welfare which they can perform are directed toward the elucidation and improvement — the rational and practical betterment — of the life of conduct. As for myself, in all my investigations hitherto, I have had this end in view. And it was, in no small degree, the conviction that human morality cannot be made safely and permanently to repose upon a false psychological basis, or upon an agnostic view of knowledge, or upon an inadequate metaphysics, which stimu- lated and guided me throughout all these earlier works. For man is a unity — although having indeed a wonderful complex- ity of activities with their various ends and interests. And he cannot safely build the structure of a virtuous life upon false opinions of his own Being or of the Ultimate Realities ; neither can he easily find true views on these subjects when he departs widely from the path of virtuous living. He must rise, or fall, or stand still, as that unique unity which he really is. If, then, any reader of this book should occasionally be offended by an appearance of dogmatism at points where dis- cussion, or even concession to contending views would seem PREFACE xi more appropriate, I must ask him either to pardon the manner of treatment or else to resort, for this discussion, to those other writings where it may be found. Such a philosophy of conduct as I have attempted to estab- lish will probably meet with opposition chiefly from three sources of influence. The first of these is the current theory of biological evolution. So long as this theory remains on its own grounds the philosophy of human morality need raise no objection to its speculations, however well or ill founded they may be. There " the struggle for existence " may perhaps be best treated as a bare, unmodified, and brute fact. But when biological science proposes to employ the same method, and to regard the phenomena from an unchanged point of view, the moral life and moral development of man being the sub- ject for investigation, its proposal deserves the most prolonged and searching criticism. There can be little doubt, I think, that the practical effect of the intrusion of biology into the sphere of ethics is, for the present, exceedingly mischievous to the moral life of the people, and to the current opinions re- garding the right and wrong of conduct. It is in part under its influence that we are witnessing a return to the brutish point of view, to the doctrine of the right of might, to the con- cealed or expressed opinion that it is justifiable for the strong to go as far as they can by way of pushing the weak and the unfortunate over the wall. This view of ethical phenomena I have controverted throughout by showing that ethics does not properly begin until the biological point of view, and the conclusions from this point of view, are transcended. The second source of theoretical and practical antagonism to a sound philosophy of conduct is the reigning spirit of commercialism. This cannot be met by ethics on scientific grounds. For it is not itself scientific. Its show of theoreti- cal justification, OA'en when it rises no higher than the lower ranges customarily occupied by a so-called " ethics of eco- nomics," is not intended as a serious discussion of the prin- XU PREFACE ciples or problems of conduct. It is, as a rule, simply an impotent attempt at self-justification for practices which it is proposed to continue whether those practices be justifiable on genuinely ethical grounds or not. All, therefore, which ethics can properly do' to remove this obstacle is to point out the es- sential immorality of this spirit, and the bad morals of the conduct it either fosters or condones ; and, in connection with this work of criticism, point out also " the more excellent way." The third reason why the student of the philosophy of con- duct may expect indifference, if not secret or more open an- tagonism, toward any serious effort to deepen rational reflection and elevate the tone of the prevalent moral consciousness is found in the relatively low and nerveless ethical condition of the current Christianity. I say " relatively " — as compared with the output of energy in other directions. Of course, the fact that such is the condition will be made a matter of dis- pute. Of course, too, a treatise of ethical principles — especi- ally in its Preface — does not furnish the proper place for establishing, or even for arguing this fact. A word of ex- planation, however, as to the interpretation of the charge I have just made is certainly in place here. Whether the morals of the Christian nations of the world, considered as a matter of conduct in their more domestic social and commer- cial relations, or in their intercourse with one another — have improved or deteriorated does not concern us at the present time. The only too patent facts seem to me to be these : The ethically didactic or prophetic tone, when assumed by the public teachers, is just now especially unpopular and obviously ineffective. The great political, commercial, and social prob- lems, the consideration of which is most imperative, are not customarily discussed or settled from the predominatingly moral point of view. Moral principles, whether presented in the form of abstract deductions or of concrete maxims, com- mand a relatively small amount of thoughtful interest or at- PREFACE xiii tention. The tone of the prevalent moral sentiment is neither strenuous nor lofty. The presence of baleful " double moral- ity" is quite generally either openly proclaimed or secretly tolerated. The high ideals of the best ethical teachings of the past — even, and especially, of the New Testament — are not taken to heart, or made the models of actual living. And in all this the multitude who compose the existing Christian organizations — with a considerable number of notable and noble exceptions — take the part of silent acquiescence, if not of unquestioning or bewildered conformity, rather than of re- monstrance and opposition. I repeat that the ethical spirit is low and nerveless just now in the body of that community which bears the name of the world's greatest teacher of a spiritual and divinely inspired morality. But not science, nor trade, nor society, nor religion itself, can permanently alter, or for a long period in the world's his- tory neglect, the fundamental principles and ultimate ideals of the moral life. If amid the evolution of things, the flux of interests and opinions, the changing constitution of human society, and the rise and fall of empires, there is anything to remain substantially inviolable, it is these principles and these ideals. " There is no human function," said Aristotle, " so constant as the activities in accordance with virtue ; they seem to be more permanent than the sciences themselves." And said that great moralist, Sophocles : — " They ne'er shall sink to slumber in oblivion ; A power of God is there, untouched by Time." As sharing in this same confidence I therefore put forth this essay in times which I am compelled to regard as by no means favorable to its most unprejudiced and practically effective reception. GEORGE TRUMBULL LADD. Yale University, New Haven, 1902. TABLE OF CONTENTS INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER I THE SPHERE AND PROBLEM OF ETHICS Page The Problem of Conduct important — Character of this Problem — Nature of Ethical Discussion — Distinctions recognized by Ethics — Ethics as involving the Ideal — And the Conception of "the Ought " — Definition of Ethics — Ethics as Practical 3 CHAPTER II METHODS AND DIVISIONS OF ETHICS \ /: : Different Ways of approaching the Problem of Conduct — The Three Methods of Ethics— The Psychological Method — "Data of Ethics'* so called — Necessity of Interpretation — Need of Psychology — The Historical Method — Combination of Methods necessary — The Speculative Method — Division of the Subject 19 CHAPTER III THE CONCEPTION OF THE GOOD Ancient and modern Conception of Ethics — Titles like " good " and " bad " as applied to Conduct — Consciousness and the Good — Degrees of the Good, and their Measurement — The Hedonistic Conception — Value of Discipline — Instrumental and final Good — Conception of "the Good-in-Itself " — Classification of Goods — The common Element — Development of the Conception of the Morally Good— The Ideal Good 34 xvi TABLE OF CONTENTS PART FIRST THE MORAL SELF CHAPTER IV ANALYSIS OF MORAL CONSCIOUSNESS Page Man as Ethical — The two Classes of Moral Feelings — Distinctively Ethical Feelings — Nature of Ethical Intellection — Ethical Volition — General Observations 59 CHAPTER V THE FEELING OF OBLIGATION Primary Nature of the " Ought-Consciousness " — Its Relation to Thought and Volition — Conditions of its Origin — Influence of Imi- tation — And of Tribal Sympathy — Its Connection with Pleasure- Pains — Feeling of Obligation uniquely human — Development of the Feeling — Effect of Repetition — Formation of Judgments of Obligation — Fusion with particular Passions and Affections — Primacy of Feeling — Relation of, to Stages of Development — Nature of Conscience 69 CHAPTER VI OTHER ETHICAL FEELINGS Nature of Moral Approbation — Relation of, to the Virtues and Vices — And to the Pleasure-Pains — Resemblance to ^Esthetical Feel- ing — Development of Moral Approbation — Feelings of Ethical Merit and Demerit — Social Nature of these Feelings — Implica- tions as to the Moral Order 93 CHAPTER VII ETHICAL JUDGMENT The so-called Intellectual Virtues — Development of Time-conscious- ness necessary — And of Self-consciousness — And of the Causal Principle — Grounds of Ethical Judgment — Psychological Charac- teristics of this Judgment — Predicate of all ethical Judgments — Category of "the Right" — Historical Sources of ethical Judg- ments — Domestic, tribal, and religious Customs — Intellectual TABLE OF CONTENTS xvii Page Development and the Growth of Moral Judgment — Natural and acquired Power of Judging — Characteristic Experience — Ideas of Ends and Values — Stages in the Evolution of Ethical Opinion . 106 CHAPTER VIII MORAL FREEDOM Conception of " Moral Freedom" — Interest of Ethics in the Problem — Difficulties in the Way of Discussion — Present Position of De- terminism — Method of Procedure — Data of Experience — Free- dom the Function of no one Faculty — Danger of Hypostasizing — The Fact of Self- Activity — Its Physiological Basis — Nature of deliberate Choice — Counter Arguments — Consciousness of Im- putability — Testimony from Custom and Language — Imperfect Conceptions of Personal Responsibility — Objections to Freedom classified — Empirical Determinism — The "Old-Fashioned " — And the " New-Fashioned " — Relation of Motives to Volitions — In- comparability of Impulses and Ideals — The Conception of Char- acter — And of Habit — Relation of Brain-States to Psychoses — The Materialistic Outcome — The Argument from Statistics — The Conception of Causation applied — The Self not a Mechanism — The Residuum of Mystery 138 CHAPTER IX THE MORAL SELF The Conception of Conscience — Inclusive Nature of Moral Selfhood — The Moral Self and the Social Self— The Scientific and the Ethical — The Pursuit of Ideals — Personality and Development — Evolution of the Moral Ideal 189 PART SECOND THE VIRTUOUS LIFE CHAPTER X CLASSIFICATION OF THE VIRTUES Twofold Distinction of Conduct — Conception of Virtue — The Search for Unification — Different Principles of Classification — Self-regarding and Social Virtues — The Distinction criticised — Classification according to Objects — The psychological Classifica- tion adopted — Unity of the Moral Self 211 xviii TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER XI VIRTUES OP THE WILL : COURAGE, TEMPERANCE, ETC. Page Elements of Strength in Character — Nature of the good Will — The cardinal Virtues of Will — Natural Fears — Natural Effects of Fear — Courage as Self-control of Fear — Rational Fears — Ap- parent Prudential Virtues — Moral Value of Courage — The Vice of Cowardice — Temperance as a Virtue — The Control of Anger — And of Sexual Appetite — And of the Desire of Possession — Humility — Constancy as a Cardinal Virtue — Subordinate Phases of the Virtues of Will 231 CHAPTER Xn VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT : WISDOM, JUSTNESS, ETC. Judgment itself is Conduct — Cardinal Virtues of Judgment — Wisdom defined — Wisdom as Evaluation of Ends — And Estimate of Means — Genuine Prudential Virtues — Resignation as a Cardinal Virtue — The Virtue of Justness — Moral Value of this Virtue — Concep- tion of Justness — Resulting Doctrine of Rights — Relations of Custom and Law to Justice — The Virtue of Trueness — General Estimate of this Virtue — The Evaluation of Truth — Vices of Thoughtlessness — And of Dogmatism — And of Partisanship — Truth-telling — Is Deceit or Lying Justifiable ? 269 CHAPTER XIII VIRTUES OP FEELING : KINDNESS, SYMPATHY, ETC. Social Origin of these Virtues — Natural Impulses to Kindness — And Social Relations which define its Objects — Nature of Friendship — The Virtue of Hospitality — The Virtue of Pity — Origin and Nature of Sympathy — The Feeling of the Species — Development of Benevolence — Influence of Philosophy — And of Art — And of Religion — The opposite Vices — Ingratitude — Pleasure-giving Quality of these Virtues 310 CHAPTER XIV THE UNITY OP VIRTUE The Search for Unity — Analogies from Psychology — The two Forms of Unification — Tests of External Behavior — And of Motive — And of Intention — Virtue not mere "good Intention" — Nor identical with Benevolence — Nor with Love — The highest Self- TABLE OF CONTENTS xix Page Welfare involved — Justness and Trueness not reducible to Benevo- lence — Unity of Personality implied — And Devotion to the Moral Ideal 337 CHAPTER XV DUTY AND MORAL LAW Importance of these Conceptions — Implications of the Conception of Duty — Duties to Self — Feeling of Obligation involved — Origin of the Conception of Duty — Are Duties and Virtues Co-extensive? — Duty and Merit — Duties and Rights — The Conception of Moral Law — Origin of moral Laws — Their Character of an " ex- ternal Imponent " — Conception of a personal Source — Moral Law never Impersonal 365 CHAPTER XVI UNIVERSALITY OF MORAL PRINCIPLES Principles and Laws contrasted — Nature of Moral Principles — And of their Universality — Development of Moral Principles — De- pendence upon Moral Institutions — And upon the Abolition of Distinctions — Simplifying of Moral Principles — Rational Deduc- tion of Moral Principles — Influence of Individual Examples — And of Ethical Philosophy — Restricting Power of Custom .... 389 CHAPTER XVII casuistry; moral tact and conflict of DUTIES Difficulties of the Subject — Casuistry as Ethical Discipline — Sources of Casuistry — Nature of Moral Tact — Necessary Elements of its Cultivation — Sphere of Casuistry — Conflict of Duties — Reality of such Conflict — Different Classes of Conflicts —The Principle of Individuality — The Case of Truth-telling examined . . . .415 CHAPTER XVIII THE GOOD MAN General Description of the Virtuous Life — Influence of the particular Ideal of Self — Conformity of the Actual to the Ideal — Danger of excessive Idealism — Discovery of ethical "Antinomies" — The sentient Self and the moral Self — The Self-regarding and the Altruistic " Good Man " — Development through Discipline . . . 436 XX TABLE OF CONTENTS PART THIRD THE NATURE OF THE RIGHT CHAPTER XIX THE ULTIMATE PROBLEM Page The Statement — The Method of Treatment — Different " Schools of Ethics" — The Need of Metaphysics 457 CHAPTER XX UTILITARIANISM IN ETHICS The Ancient Pledonism — The Modern Utilitarianism — Nature of " Pleasure-Pains " — Sources of Human Happiness — The Evalua- tion of Happiness — The Standard of Measurement — Problems of a Hedonistic Ethics — Egoistic and Quantitative Hedonism — The Question of Sanctions — Altruistic and Quantitative Hedonism — Qualitative Hedonism — The Goal of Ethics — The Utilitarian Modifications — And their Failure — The Problem of Rational Worth 467 CHAPTER XXI LEGALISM IN ETHICS Antecedent Improbability of this Theory — Ethics always Personal — Inapplicable Conceptions of Law and Order — Moral Law as Rational —Views of Kant criticised — Law and Reality . . .497 CHAPTER XXII IDEALISM IN ETHICS Conduct and the idealizing Activity — The Ideal of Rationalism — And of Utilitarianism — Problems of Idealism — Claims of " In- tuitionism " — And the Facts in its Support — Contradictory Facts — The Right, subjective and objective — The Social Ideal — Application of the Conception of Evolution — IndividuaUty of TABLE OF CONTENTS xxi Paob the Ideal — The Time of Realization — Personal Character of Ethical Ideals — Influence of the two Conceptions, Personality and Development 507 CHAPTER XXIII THE ETHICAL SCIENCES The comprehensive Sphere of Conduct — The Unethical View — Economics as an Ethical Science — Common Basis of Ethics and Economics — Politics as an Ethical Science — And so^alled Social Science 537 CHAPTER XXIV MORALITY AND RELIGION Untenable Character of the " Positivist View " — Two Extremes of Opinion — Universality of Religion — Influence of Religion upon the Conception of the Virtues — And upon their Practice — The common Psychological Origin — Twofold Nature of Piety — Speci- fically Religious Duties so called — Ethical Influence of Religious Faiths and Practices — Religious " Purification " — The Moral Sup- port from Religion — Religious Fears and Moral Obligation — Effect of Religion on Moral Ideals — "Double Morality" — Re- ligious View of the Moral Antinomies — Influence on Morality of the religious Postulates — Especially in their Superior Form . . 552 CHAPTER XXV THE GROUND OF MORALITY AND THE WORLD-GROUND Nature of the Problem — Its Ultimate Character — Need of Help from Philosophy — The Kantian View — The Theory of Reality implied — And of the Philosophy of Knowledge — Comprehensive Character of the Metaphysics of Ethics — Philosophical Conception of the World-Ground — The Absolute as Moral Self — Naturalism in Ethics — Positivism in Ethics — A Rational Anthropomorphism — God as the Source of Moral Standards — And of Moral Sanc- tions — Morality of Natural Law — And of Social Enactments — The Appeal from Social Standards — Doing the Divine Will — Ground of the Community of Interests — The World-Ground and Moral Ideals — Solution of Ethical Antinomies — Conflict between the Real and the Ideal 588 xxii TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER XXVI THE ULTIMATE MORAL IDEAL Page The Ideal of Conduct " in-itself " Good — The Morally Ideal Self — Social Character of the Ultimate Ideal — Possibility of its Realiza- tion — The Permanence of Conflict — Idealism and Realism in Ethics — Reconciliation by Development — Conclusion .... 636 INDEX 659 PHILOSOPHY OP CONDUCT PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT INTRODUCTORY " Hoiaever men approach Me, even so do 1 accept them; for the path men take from every side is Mlne.''^ Bhagavad Gita. CHAPTER I THE SPHERE AND PROBLEM OF ETHICS If one consults the wisdom of the ages it will be found nearly unanimous in the opinion that, of all inquiries the most important are those which concern the right and wrong forms of human conduct. As a matter of fact, however, multitudes of men, through considerable periods of their lives, seldom deliberate, or even consciously propose these inquiries. Necessities of a physical kind seem to compel them to a daily walk along well defined paths of action; and where these necessities are less powerful, the estab- lished social customs that environ them leave comparatively little room for the more independent exercise of any indi- vidual's judgment. But perhaps more than all else, the habits they have themselves formed through years of an activity which, in accordance with a well-known psychologi- cal law, has now become a passive submission, ward off attacks from any stimulus that would make imperative or attractive the question: How shall I act at the present moment ? In a word, physical necessity, social convention, and individual habit combine to answer for most men, as though they were matters of course, all ordinary questions of ethical import. And so the multitude not only eat, drink, and sleep, and go the daily round of tasks or pleasures, but they also discharge many of the higher social and politi- cal functions without much intelligent and serious debate as to the quality or the consequences of their conduct. 4 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT As a matter of fact, however, nearly or quite all of this same multitude do at certain times somewhat carefully weigh important problems of more definite ethical import. And the questions which the wisdom of the ages considers so important are themselves the questions of the ages. It is not the wise alone that have raised and answered these moral problems with more or less of self-conscious feeling and judgment. The common people have opinions, with show of reasons attached, upon matters of conduct. Even fools are not always lacking in a sort of cunning dialectic, or in a somewhat systematic rationalism, upon such matters. It is, to be sure, chiefly when the problems of conduct are brought to mind as objectified in the concrete behavior of some fellow actor in life's drama toward themselves that their ethical emotions are most stirred and their ethical judgments are most clear-sighted and emphatic. It is when some other bow than the one held in their own hands has speeded the arrow that men question and hotly resent the deed which has caused them the painful sting, the dangerous wound. Above all other occasions do they experience a lively arousement of moral consciousness when the misdeed has not only hurt them as individuals, but has also been a notable breach of the established customs of society. The multitude are made more reflectively moral by feeling them- selves to be in some way injured or inconvenienced through the action of individuals who disregard the customary morality. But beyond all this, and deeper down, lie the questions concerning right conduct to which the wise have reference, and to which most men at some time in their lives give at least a passing consideration. Now it is plain that any serious inquiry after right and wrong forms of conduct may lead the mind of the inquirer in either one, or in all, of several different directions. In its most frequent form the ethical problem concerns the proper or most feasible means of securing a certain end. THE SPHERE AND PROBLEM OF ETHICS 5 For although the opening dictum of the Nicomachean Ethics — namely, that "every art and every research, and likewise every act and purpose " has some end of a good in view — is not strictly true, since many ends of every man's life are pretty clearly defined by circumstances over which he has little immediate control, the thing which most concerns his success in the attainment of ends is the selection of means. The artizan, the merchant, the professional man, even the most stupid laborer, knows fairly well what he is aiming at, and does not ordinarily question the rightness or wrongful- ness of his aims. For the most part also the means avail- able for pursuing these ends are provided, as defined by law, or custom or convention. But ordinarily the means are much more variable than are the ends ; and the circumstances requiring an adaptation of means to any particular end are always subject to change. It is evident, however, that when men deliberate questions of conduct concerning the use of means, their problem is still somewhat complicated. By this I do not mean simply that it is often difficult for them to know which of several deeds or courses of conduct fur- nishes the most likely means to attain the desired end. The rather are we interested here again to discover indica- tions of those further and deeper problems which concern the right and wrong in human conduct. For let it be supposed that, of two or more ways of attain- ing one's end, there is one way against which the laws or the customs of society have definitively pronounced. Then the ethical problem is tolerably sure to take upon itself a somewhat different character. Then the problem becomes not merely a questioning of experience for the instrument most likely to be successful in attaining a given purpose. Even the bare consideration of the more immediate, as well as the more remote consequences of conduct is modified in such a case as this. The law or the custom, has already said iVb, in answer to other similar inquiries. It has 6 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT apparently solved the general problem in a negative way. The individual, therefore, must go on to inquire: What will the government, or society, do to me, if my answer differs from theirs ? And this inquiry, although not the same thing, is very intimately associated with another ques- tion : What do my fellowmen consider to be right and wrong forms of conduct? But such a change in the character of the problem of con- duct, and its increased need of deliberation and far-seeing choice, prepares the way for raising a yet more fundamental and difficult inquiry. For here the feeling and judgment of the individual, whether he take the point of view from which to regard the consequences of his act, or the point of view from which moral consciousness strives to discern the inherent quality of the act, may begin to ask the reason, Why? True, society seems to have clearly indicated its judgment as to what is right, what wrong, in such a case as this. But — just now, at any rate — perhaps the feeling and judgment of the individual do not precisely accord with the social custom. How did society arrive at this, its seemingly corporate conclusion ? By what reasons, whether in the way of appeal to facts, or dialectic from assumed principles, or probable inference as to consequences, can others justify the right to control my decisions on matters of conduct? And, furthermore, what shall I think of myself in case I venture to choose another deed, another course of conduct, than that which society has ordained? Rarely, it may be, yet some- times and, if at all, always most significantl}^ do men, even the adults of the common herd, raise with themselves, or with one another, problems which have this deeper and vaster significance. It is the attempt to answer, by processes of reflective thinking upon a basis of facts of experience, such practical questions as the foregoing, which gives rise to an inquiry into the principles of human conduct. If, then, we did not THE SPHERE AND PROBLEM OF ETHICS 7 desire to avoid at the beginning of our inquiry insignificant objections and fruitless debating, we might adopt this pre- liminary definition : Ethics is the Science of human conduct. For conduct is a fact; or rather, it is an infinitely varied and ever-changing network of facts. It affords a tangled skein of inquiries which require a methodical consideration. And although one may easily enough dissent from Wundt's conception, — "Ethics is the original science of norms," — one cannot so easily disregard the significance of his further declaration : 1 "The estimate of the value of facts is also itself a fact, and a fact which must not be overlooked when it is there to see." Now if we may treat facts of human feeling, imagination, and judgment (whether they are estab- lished by a direct appeal to consciousness or in some other more objective and historical manner) by scientific method, may sift them, classify them, concatenate and explain them, interpret their import and reason speculatively about their implicates, it is difficult to see why we may not properly speak of a possible "science of ethics." But why spend time in discussing so futile an inquiry ? We will be contented then, at present, simply to say that ethics results from the scientific (the systematic and properly regulated) study of human conduct — its sources, its devel- opment, its sanctions, and its most general principles. The fuller justification of this rude, fourfold classification of ethical problems may be left to appear during the progress of the attempt at completing our task. But the suggestion, if not the authentication of it, follows from a reflective treatment of the import of such questions as have already been proposed. All these questions concern human conduct — the subject matter of our philosophizing or reflective thinking. But the manifold forms in which the questions recur suggests the need of investigating not only the present 1 Ethics : The Facts of the Moral Life ; I, pp. 5 and 9. [English translation bv Julia Gulliver and Edward Bradford Titchener.] 8 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT external facts, but also the beginnings, the historical on- going, the rational grounds — the sanctions and the princi- ples — of human conduct. Even this brief preliminary definition implies the further need of certain very profound distinctions. Taken altogether, these distinctions require the addition of an exceedingly sig- niiicant clause to our conception of the sphere of ethics. Let us then enumerate and briefly discuss these distinctions. And, first, the sphere of ethics can be defined, and its problem understood, only by making a distinction between the real and the ideal, between what is, as matter of actuality or fact, and what is conceived as better than the fact, an idea of what might be, or should be. There are sciences of actuality so-called. They begin with the individual facts; they derive their principles by generalization from the modes of the actual behavior of things or of minds ; their metaphysics treats speculatively the assumptions, or the most fundamental principles, which concern what has actual being. Ethics, too, begins with facts ; it makes generaliza- tions that are based upon the habitual, actual forms of the behavior of men. But so long as human conduct is consid- ered merely as fact, and the forms into which it has crystal- lized are regarded merely as actual historical developments, the way is only prepared, but not entered upon, for the discussion of the more distinctively ethical problems. Superficially regarded, the words used to describe a study of human conduct — especially in the three languages, Greek, Latin, and German — seem to favor the conception of ethics as a purely historical or anthropological science. According to these languages, ethics appears to be a science of actually existing customs. But this fact is itself rela- tively unimportant and due to the influence of the termin- ology employed by Aristotle and by succeeding writers.^ 1 T^ yap ^dos dirh rod edovs ex^t r^v ivoownlav: Magn. Moral., A. 6 (a writing of the later Aristotelian school). So the Latin Moralis in Cicero, Defato, 1. THE SPHERE AND PROBLEM OF ETHICS 9 Neither Aristotle nor Cicero, however, for a moment thought of making the philosophy of conduct deal with facts alone, to the exclusion of men's ideas as to the evaluation of what is fact by comparison with some sort of a conceptual standard. And no modern writer of treatises called " Data of Ethics " succeeds in discussing its problems without constant refer- ence to conceptions of the individual and of society concern- ing an obligation and concerning sanctions that transcend any actually existing example. It would, indeed, be altogether too vague, as well as some- what misleading, to define ethics as the science of the Ideal. Such a definition would not difference it from aesthetics, or specify its most characteristic qualities. It must also be borne in mind that all the positive sciences are largely based upon, and interpenetrated with conceptions which are not wholly of the actual, but which consist largely of ideas as to what might be or should be. Otherwise, their devotees could not talk intelligibly of norms and types, etc., or describe and explain the individual examples in terms of a theory of evolution. It is the character of its ideal, and the way in which the individual examples are brought into relations to the ideal, which chiefly distinguishes ethics from all the other sciences. Nevertheless, in Professor Sidg- wick's contention with Mr. Spencer we must take our stand with the former rather than the latter, in his conception of the proper sphere of ethics. ^ Ethics does not primarily lead us to deal with the "doubly ideal." It does not, in the first instance aim at determining the ideal forms of conduct under ideal conditions. As Aristotle long ago said: "Our inquiry is obviously about an excellence that is human^* (Nic. Eth., I, xiii, 5). Ethics, then, however it may finally carry our thought and imagination into Utopia, or into the sphere of that far-away, ideally perfect social community which the Biblical writers call the "Kingdom of God," 1 See p. 17 f. and the note, p. 20, The Methods of Ethics (4th ed.). 10 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT primarily treats of actual facts of man's conduct under the actually existing conditions of man's historical development. It views the actual, however, in the lights and shadows of the ideal. By an Ideal I understand: a conception, developed by the combined activity of thought and imagination, to which there is not necessarily attributed any real existence as its correlate, but which appears in consciousness as an object of contemplation or of aspiration. But this conception of the ideal leads our thoughts at once to another distinction which is also necessary to a correct conception of the sphere of ethics, — namely, the distinction between other ideals and the specifically ethical ideal. In the ethical discussions of the Greeks that loosely organized but comprehensive and fascinating idea which was designated " the Good " was cen- tral and controlling. There can, of course, be no philoso- phizing of an ethical sort w^ithout making use of one or more elements and aspects of this idea. Moreover, there is great significance in the fact that the human mind persists in its effort to free these elements and aspects from that lack of unity which they exhibit in all human experience, and thus to form the fair and alluring picture of a state or society in which they shall all be harmoniously united. The bare faith in the possibility of such harmony is a problem for ethics. The firm confidence of many that this possibility will become realized is another problem. But these and all kindred problems belong fitly to the later theoretical conclusions rather than to the preliminary considerations of the student of ethics. He must, however, soon be brought to recognize the fact that the human mind invariably constructs several different ideals, or at any rate several aspects of the one highest ideal; and that the concern of ethics is primarily and chiefly with the ideal of conduct. Subordinate to the distinction just discussed are the two following : — the first of which is the distinction between THE SPHERE AND PROBLEM OF ETHICS 11 action and conduct. It is not mere doing, whether of this or of that sort, which gives to the student of ethics his pecu- liar problems. Conduct implies something more than action. Conduct implies the consciousness of an end that may be striven for ; it implies the knowledge of means that are adapted to the attainment of the end ; it implies the power of choice with reference to both end and means. In a word, conduct is action rationally shaped; it is the doing of a Moral Self. Moral action is not, indeed, a specific kind of action, set apart, as it v^ere, for some definite species of external performances, to the exclusion of other species.^ In fact, the presence of ethical ideals is to be discerned in everything which man consciously and voluntarily does. Higher or lower degrees of these characteristics of all con- duct are actually found as far back in history, as low down in ethical or intellectual degradation as we can follow the development of humanity. In his eating the adult human being does not merely feed. In his drinking he does not simply sivill his drink. He raises the social cup, he pours out a libation to the gods ; and the gods at any rate must be treated politely by the most shameless and gluttonous of cannibals. And where, as amongst the various Hindu castes in India, custom and morality and religion are so confused as to constitute a nearly complete enslavement of all the activities and interests of human life, the neces- sity and validity of this distinction are all the more to be emphasized. The second of the distinctions which follows from the attempt to confine the sphere of ethics within its more 1 I sympathize heartily with the import of Prof, Dewey's declaration (Out- lines of Ethics, p. 167) : " The habit of conceiving moral action, as a certain hind of action, instead of all action so far as it really is action, leads us to conceive of morality as a highly desirable something which ought to be brought into our lives, but which upon the whole is not." But at the fourth use of the word " ac- tion " we must change it to conduct, in the above sentence. Prof. Dewey has himself previously distinguished action from conduct, Ibid, p. 3 f. 12 ' PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT appropriate ideal is the distinction between mere character- istics of being and the moral character, in the ethical sig- nificance of the latter word. The character of men is never estimated by themselves or by their fellows as though it were simply a matter of fact. In that interesting symbolism of language which shows the mysterious feeling of kinship with nature on man's part, we find the really significant truth to be, not that man regards himself as a being devoid of moral character, but rather that he regards the lower ani- mals and even inanimate objects as sharing with himself in the potentialities of character. The superstitious savage does not so much excuse his offending fellowman for his bad character, because he could no more help being bad than could the dog, or the tree, or the stone. On the contrary, he is more apt to consider dog, or tree, or stone, as bad with the quasi-Qih.\QdX judgment and feeling, that they, too, ought to have known and done better! In man's case espe- cially, character not only implies disposition, as an ethical potentiality ; but also the moulding effect of conduct on the actual characteristics of disposition. We might, then, say that the sphere of ethics is regulated by man's ideals of conduct and of character. There is one other distinction which is very powerful in determining the proper conception of moral philosophy. This "might-be," this "should-be," of ethics has its own peculiarity ; and this peculiarity is better expressed by the significant phrase, "ought (or ought not) to be." The sphere of ethics, then, covers that which is actual in human conduct and character as related to that which ought to be. Indeed, this last distinction is so essential, so fundamental, in all genuine philosophy of conduct that one almost might affirm: The business of ethics is the investigation of the ought and the ought not in conduct. It will be found that, in its developed form the feeling of the ought stands in a peculiar relation to human volitions, « n THE SPHERE AND PROBLEM OF ETHICS 13 and so to human action as dependent upon volitions — i. e., to that human conduct which has already been defined as the proper subject for ethics. For the feeling of obligation con- stitutes a sort of mandate for the will. The recognition of this relation, and of its importance for all the more strictly ethical forms of discussion, is essential at the very beginning of every ethical treatise. On the contrary, says Schopen- hauer i^ "In this ethical book no precepts, no doctrine of duty must be looked for. ... In general, we shall not talk at all of ' ought, ' for this is how one speaks to children and to nations still in their childhood, but not to those who have appropriated all the culture of a full-grown age. It is a palpable contradiction to call the will free, and yet to prescribe laws for it according to which it ought to will. 'Ought to will' — wooden iron!'* Now it is doubtless true that the " must " which attaches itself to the " ought " recognized by ethics often arises on other than distinctively ethical grounds ; not infrequently it begins as some form of external compulsion. Thus, for ex- ample, the unconquerable feeling of the orthodox Jew that he ought not to eat pork may have arisen in a sanitary regulatiori. Hinduism, on its ethical side, is so full of ex- amples of this sort that its practical ethics may almost be said to consist wholly of them. It is also true that in mul- titudes of cases, in all times and among peoples of every degree of moral advancement, many seemingly strong ethical repulsions are closely akin to that residuum of nausea, in memory and in imagination, which makes some persons feel that it is morally wrong to indulge at all in tobacco or in alcohol. But just now our inquiry does not concern the origin of this feeling answering to the words "I ought;" nor do we question as to how it becomes attached to any particular piece of conduct. Our claim is that its essential and unique character must be recognized as lying at the very 1 The World as Will and Idea (translation of Haldane and Kemp), I, p. 350 £ 14 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT threshold of the study of ethical problems. And this be- cause as a matter of fact we find it there at the entrance ; and not only at the entrance, but also as a constant and inseparable companion in all ethical investigations. Nor is the experience of the individual student of ethics at all individual in this regard. Every student of ethics meets everywhere with this feeling, this conception of the ought ; and every writer on ethics does actually take account of it. Schopenhauer himself is by no means an exception to the universal rule. In proof of this statement, were proof just now necessary or desirable, appeal might be made to human moral consciousness, to human language, to literature, and to the actions of men in society and in all human history. The sphere of ethics, then, is not a domain of fact to the exclusion of ideals, nor a domain of ideals that has no basis in, or application to, the world of fact. The reflective thinking which a moral philosophy proposes does not con- sider the conduct of men simply as an actual event, or simply as a series of related events under the laws of habit, or under the general laws of physics, biology, and psychology. Ethics demands to know something more about its subject than the bare datum of its existence, its origin in past his- tory, its probable or known consequences in the future. It inquires into all these matters diligently, but it does not regard them wholly in themselves or in their relations to one another. It reaches its more ultimate aim only when it judges all human conduct in its relations to a standard. And that standard is an ideal one, a construct of a developed activity of thought and imagination — upon a basis, to be sure, of facts of feeling, judgment, and action. We may then complete our preliminary conception of the sphere of ethics by adding a further clause : " Ethics results from the scientific study of human conduct — its sources, its develop- ment, its sanctions, and its most general principles '' — as related to a rational ideal. THE SPHERE AND PROBLEM OF ETHICS 15 The word rational is doubtless one of the worst abused terms in the English language; it is almost necessarily vaguely comprehensive in its meaning when employed by the student of any form of philosophy in whatever language. Witness its many uses by Kant in his three immortal Crit- iques having " reason " as their subject of investigation. Recall also how Aristotle in his attempt to define ethics as a kind of politics affirms of the total function of man that it is " an activity of soul in accordance with reason, or not independently of reason" (Nic. Eth., I, vii, 14). ^ All that ethics is entitled to mean by this term " a rational ideal " cannot, of course, be described or justified at the beginning of an ethical treatise. On the contrary the detailed descrip- tion and completer justification of this conception is one of the most difficult and complex problems of philosophy. Nor should we make any large advances in the task before us if we dwelt farther upon the patent truth that the rational ideal to which ethics relates conduct and character is itself an ethical ideal, an ideal, that is to say, of conduct and of character. Like the phrases of those who define ethics as the "science of moral habits," and then by destructive criti- cism leave the mind in doubt as to what the word " moral " signifies, we should thus tarry too long in what Plato sarcas- tically calls the " puppy-dog " stage of science. It will be helpful, however, to anticipate at the very beginning of the inquiry the large conclusion to which the inquiry itself will bring back the mind again and again. The rational ideal to which ethics relates all the particulars of conduct as to a standard, this conception of that which ought to be, and which therefore gives the law to which the actual in conduct feels the obligation of conforming, is the Ideal of a Self, or "Person." But, of course, such a Self 1 In this passage the phrases /carcb Koyov and /i^ iveu \6yov mean " according to," or *' at least implying," a rational standard, as nearly as we can reproduce them. 16 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT cannot exist in reality, cannot even be conceived of, as an individual separated from all social relations. In saying this, the problem of ethics is anticipated ; it is brought be- fore us, indeed, in all its most comprehensive and glorious significance. This problem is the realization of the Self, in social relations with other selves, and in accordance with a consciously accepted ideal. At once the conclusion follows as to the relation in which the theory of ethics stands to life. Ethics cannot he merely theoretical and speculative; it must, from its very nature, also be applied and practical. A "pure" science of ethics, modelled after the pattern of logic or of mathematics, is an impossibility; it is more than that: it is an absurdity equivalent to a contradiction in terms. And this, for two reasons. Ethics has no body of principles that can be estab- lished apart from their closest contact with, their embodi- ment in, the concrete examples of human history and of present experience with its changes of conditions and of requirements from age to age. The philosophy of conduct cannot possibly be made "pure," in this meaning of the word. Neither can its principles be held as mere theory,; they are themselves of such a nature as to demand and to guide their own application to concrete and individual instances of conduct. They cannot be kept "pure," in this other meaning of the word. The general statement with regard to stealing, for example, — whether it take the form, " The good man does not steal, " or " The good man will not steal," or "The good man ought not to steal," — cannot be established a priori or derived by any process of reasoning that does not take into account all the complicated actual relations of the changing life of man. But neither form of this general statement can be restrained from becoming at once the practical mandate: "Thoushalt not steal." And it is vain, as will appear subsequently, to attempt to estab- lish such a priori moral principles by confining the word THE SPHERE AND PROBLEM OF ETHICS 17 " moral " exclusively to the deed, or to the consequences of the deed, or to the inward intention or mental disposition or habit out of which the deed proceeds. The sphere of ethics is, then, peculiar to itself, its verita- ble own and no other. This is because there is nothing else which is so similar to human conduct, when conduct is viewed in its relations to its own ideal, as that a safe com- parison may be made between its proper method and its conclusions and the method and conclusions of ethics. On this account we should not classify ethics and logic together, as Wundt^ does, and call them the only "purely normative sciences." But more misleading is the view of Paulsen ^ who — to be sure, in a rather vacillating way — ranks ethics among the natural sciences. The intimate relations of ethics to psychology and to anthropology are obvious enough from its very conception as defined in the most preliminary and tentative manner. Since ethics deals with the conduct of man, it must know man. Since the whole of man is in- volved in his conduct, since all his faculties of body and mind are employed and all his being is expressed in conduct, ethics must know man in the most comprehensive way possi- ble. While the sphere of ethics includes much from both psychology and anthropology, it does not wholly coincide with either of the two. To attempt to substitute either for ethics is to miss the peculiar province of ethics altogether; but even to speak of " a practical ethics without psychology " is to be guilty both of a tautology and of a contradiction. For there is no ethics that is not practical, and there is no ethics at all without psychology. If, then, we expand somewhat and slightly modify his meaning, it will be found that the first great writer upon this subject in a systematic way had a not unworthy concep- tion of the work he had undertaken to accomplish. Aris- totle believed himself to be investigating, not simply for 1 Ethics, I, p. 7. 2 A System of Ethics, p. 13 f. 2 18 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT purposes of pure science but also in order the better to guide himself and mankind generally, a certain kind of life.^ This was the total life of man, so far as it may be brought under the control of the will and consciously directed to a rational and worthy end. The standard, as I shall attempt to show in detail, which sets this worthy end, and which becomes a mandate to its own progressive realization, as well as a law for the evaluation of ourselves and of others, is the Ideal of a perfect Self existing in social relations with other selves. 1 Nic, Eth., I, vii, 12. Zw^ irpaKTiK-fi ris rod \6yov exovros. CHAPTER II METHODS AND DIVISIONS OF ETHICS The question of the sphere of ethics is complicated with the question of the methods of ethics ; and this latter ques- tion determines, in large measure, the question of the virtual, if not the explicit, divisions under which to discuss the various ethical problems. How, indeed, shall one approach, in the effort to answer such inquiries as the fol- lowing : What is right and what wrong in conduct? Whence come the sanctions which men attach to that conduct which they call right ; and. What is the ultimate end at which all right conduct seems to aim? The problems of ethics may be approached, first, as a study of the subject of conduct, of the moral agent, the being under moral law, the sensitive and appreciative conscious- ness which is, in its activity, seeking some form of the good. Or second, the same problems may be approached as a study of the kinds of conduct actually existing and objectively regarded; together with the consequences which attach themselves to the different kinds, whether such consequences arise from the action of other men or from the working of natural laws. Or, finally, a speedy if not immediate resort may be taken to speculation; the effort may be made by processes of reasoning as nearly as possible a ^priori and independent of facts (subjective or objective) to arrive at the most universal and unchanging principles of conduct, and to determine the nature of its ultimate ideal. 20 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT Of these three methods the first is the more distinctively psychological ; its body of conclusions, when systematically arranged, might seem to merit the title of "psychological ethics. " The second, however, is mainly historical, and its pursuit results in the collection and classification of "data of ethics," a sort of science of morals, ■— rather than a phil- osophy of morality. The third method, of course, gives rise to metaphysics of ethics, a system of principles which is often supposed by its advocates to have what Kant would call an "apodeictic certainty." As a matter of fact, all three methods have been employed to some extent by every school of writers and thinkers on ethics. But each school has shown its preference for one of these methods, — and usually to the relative depreciation of the other two. The school of Intuitionism so-called, naturally enough, has relied chiefly upon the psychological method. It has claimed to find its principles directly revealed to the self-conscious mind or the feeling heart; and the sufficient authority and guaranty of the principles resides in the fact that so they are given (data) in human self-consciousness. All forms of Hedon- ism, including modern Utilitarianism, on the other hand have been more inclined to busy themselves with the collec- tion of objective "data " and with tracing out the practical consequences of conduct as affecting the external interests of mankind. The rigorist in morals, however, since from the very nature of his claim (and here Kant is, of course, the most distinguished and typical example) he cannot possi- bly prove it by an appeal to experience, has the more readily resorted to the "high and dry" a priori method. An instructive historical guide to the right method in ethics is found in the fact — to repeat — that all the schools of ethics which attempt to give any complete treatment to its principal problems feel themselves obliged, in a measure, to make use of all three of the methods just described. It is necessary, then, to examine each of these methods and, if METHODS AND DIVISIONS OF ETHICS 21 possible, to determine what may be accomplished by their use and how best to combine them for purposes of successful research. The psychological method investigates the being of man as capable of conduct. In some sort, then, it is the primary and the most promising and actually rewarding manner of approaching the study of ethical problems. The very nature of these problems is such as to force the conviction that ethics must begin by a study of human nature with a view to discover what its ideal of conduct, in fact, is, and in what respects man is equipped to realize this ideal. Where, indeed, otherwise than as it is datum of the individual's consciousness, can one possibly look for the answer to any inquiry after the sources, the development, the sanctions, the laws of the moral life? Plato was, indeed, "the first to pro- pose for ethics a psychological foundation. " But he is entitled to be called "the first," because that which all previous thinkers and disputers had been doing in only a half- conscious, fitful, and fragmentary fashion, Plato proposed to render more thorough, immediate, and systematic. If others went to the human soul, as to an oracle, only through the heterogeneous and conflicting means of the prevailing customs, opinions, and laws, — the products of souls in their complicated intercourse with one another, — this great searcher for the truth aimed to reach the priestess herself, the soul in its immediateness, and to hear directly from her what she had to teach. Of his psychological division of the soul as a foundation for a theory of virtues, it has been well said: "Rudimentary as it may now appear, it was an important contribution towards the scientific theory of morals." And all the discussions and conclusions of Plato's great pupil, the founder of ethics in a more objective and scientific way, are distinctly psychological. This re- mark is true of Aristotle's doctrine of the end of the moral life, of his discussion of the nature of virtue in the large, as 22 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT it were, and of each particular kind of virtue ; it is true also of his doctrine of the mean, and of that division of the virtues which a modern writer has said " may well be called one of the greatest philosophical discoveries of any age." Undoubtedly in modern times there has been a strong and perhaps there is a still increasing revolt against the more purely psychological method in ethics. To this there is the less objection if the revolt be directed toward the unintelli- gent and too exclusive use of the distinctively psychological method. Bat suppose that, for the moment, we displace this method entirely by the more objective and historical method, and then try to think ourselves through to the conclusions w4iich can be reached in the latter way. There is now before us a vast, a practically unmanageable amount of "data of ethics, '^ consisting of the customs, conventions, laws written and unwritten, of men of different ages and of every degree and kind of intellectual and ethical develop- ment. The student is sternly forbidden to copy the too proud and self-confident attitude toward this heterogeneous mass of the doings and sayings of his fellowmen which Aristotle assumed when he declared (Nic. Eth., I, iv, 6): "Nothing but a good moral training can qualify a man to study what is noble and just." But the purely objective and historical method in ethics is inevitably doomed to failure. In other words, in the study of ethical problems, one must find much both of the facts and of the standard in his own consciousness ; the " good judge" in such a case is the man who carries within him, in his own soul, the highest natural and acquired qualifications for good judg- ment. These qualifications are, of course, themselves moral ; they are nothing else but the character of the indi- vidual soul that passes the judgment. Indeed, in the last analysis, how can one escape some such conclusion as this, to which the assumption of the psychological standpoint seems to compel the mind ? But METHODS AND DIVISIONS OF ETHICS 23 how does the case of ethics differ in this regard essentially from the standpoint necessary to be taken, from which to view the alleged facts and principles of every form of human science ? What the knower knows, or can know, depends upon his own intellectual and more distinctively moral char- acter. If, for the time being, we extend the conception of conduct over the " dianoetic " as well as over the more strictly "moral'* virtues, or excellencies, this dependence of the investigator for truth on his own moral character is as essentially true (though not in precisely the same way, nor to the same extent) of the natural and physical sciences as of the philosophy of conduct. Truth and knowledge, as well as ideas of duty and feelings of obligation, are deter- mined, in the last resort, for every individual by what takes place in his own consciousness. In the case of ethics especially, how shall its problems be understood, or how shall any conclusions concerning them which have even the aspect, not to say the essence, of mor- ality be reached, unless the soul interpret the data of facts into terms of its own experience ? For the external actions, or the custom in which the actions of many individuals have become crystallized, is an affair of interest to the student of ethics only as it issues from, and terminates in, some state or more permanent condition of the soul. Each fact must be interpreted in order to become a datum of ethics. There is only one interpreter for every man, who must constitute the last link in every chain of communication which binds him to nature and to his fellows; and that one interpreter is his own soul. Tn general the results which words and things significant of "right" or "rights," of "duty " and "obligation," of con- sequences of "pain" or "pleasure," of "interest" and " utility " — and whatever other words and things the study of ethics may acquaint us with — shall have to contribute toward an ethical science or a philosophy of morals, can 24 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT only be determined by a process of interpretation. Bata of ethics are no more data of ethics than are the movements of the stars in their courses or the formation of crystals, or the growth of trees, unless they are rendered into facts and laws of consciousness by the mind trained in psychology. And inas- much as ethics lays stress upon one particular import or aspect of the consciousness of man, its data require for their fullest and most satisfactory interpretation the mind that has made itself acquainted with the Self as a being fitted for conduct. Nor must this defence of the psychological method in ethics be too narrowly apprehended. For, as will appear more in detail subsequently, all of man's being, so far as it can become connected with his conscious states and, in any way or to any degree, brought under the control of the will, is concerned in his conduct and in the development of char- acter. This statement is true of his bodily organs, — of his eye and hand, of his sexual and digestive mechanism. Of course, his entire outfit of psychical characteristics con- tributes toward the determination of questions of right and wrong in conduct, and of the good and the bad in character. Generalize as broadly as the student of ethics may, and rise as loftily on the wings of a priori speculation as he can, it still remains true that, not only the practical solution of every detailed question of morals, but also the rational solu- tion of the problems regarding the fundamental principles of morality, implies the actual complex structure of the human being in its relations to other beings known to be similarly constituted, on a basis of experience. For man's moral nature is not an affair of moral feeling, or of moral judgment alone ; and there is no single one among the many concep- tions which have attached themselves to the word "con- science " that affords a complete description of his fitness for the moral life. Without recognitive memory, without a play of imagination which enables him to rise in his mental picturing quite above the levels to which the highest of the METHODS AND DIVISIONS OF ETHICS 26 lower animals are confined, without a corresponding develop- ment of his powers of observation and of reasoning, so as to anticipate the future consequences of his own conduct and of that of other men as an important part of his anticipation of the future operation of natural laws, man could not possi- bly be the "moral agent " which he most certainly is. In the further detailed discussion of the problems of ethics by use of the psychological method, the investigation may therefore appropriately pay deference to the tripartite division of the current psychology. But, inasmuch as the moral life, when studied in its characteristic development, and especially in connection with the search after the origins and sources of that development, seems to justify a change in the customary order of discussion, I shall treat first of the affectional side of human nature in its total equipment for conduct. This distinction will lead to the unfolding of the subject in the following order : (1) certain forms of feel- ing in which man's fitness for the moral life consists, so far as that fitness is distinctively a matter of the affections and emotions; (2) the judgments and conceptions which mark the development, on the side of intellection, of his moral life ; and (3) the character of the volition which man has, or attains, and which makes it possible for him to adopt as his own his actions, and courses of action (so as to con- stitute a veritable piece of conduct), and to choose amidst the conflict of ends and the varied means such ends and such means as agree or disagree with the moral ideal. In all the discussions of psychological ethics most of the principles employed, and many of the conclusions attained, must be borrowed from psychology. For although all of the so-called faculties which psychology investigates are con- cerned in conduct, and so become also matters of ethical appreciation and concernment, not all of the facts and laws relating to these faculties demand renewed investigation at the hands of the student of ethics. The general facts and 26 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT laws of consciousness, and of the different classified proc- esses or states of consciousness, may — nay, must — be assumed as though they were already sufficiently determined by previous studies in another but kindred discipline. No doubt any author's views upon certain problems of ethics will be largely, although perhaps unwittingly influenced by his psychological positions. This will be especially true of such psychological problems as the unity and reality of the human soul, or mind, the question in debate between the advocates of determinism and so-called " freedom of the will," the existence and nature of the higher sentiments and emo- tions, the nature of pleasure and pain, and the relations of mind and body. For myself, I can neither, on the one hand, claim to approach certain ethical problems with a complete freedom from all prejudice due to opinions already formed and advocated on related psychological problems; nor, on the other hand, can I repeat in detail, or discuss anew, the conclusions to which I have elsewhere come respecting truths, half-truths, and errors in psychology.^ It is enough for my purpose to claim the right to make use of these conclusions and discussions to the best advantage of the following ethical treatise. Let it be assumed, then, that the use of the psychological method in its strictest form is appropriate to the subject matter of ethics ; and that all historical and objective study only prepares the mind for the act of conscious interpretation and evaluation of the data of ethics collected by such study, — an act which itself makes the highest possible demands upon the analysis of the trained student of human nature. But here, as everywhere in the use of the psychological method, the dictum of Goethe remains in full force: " The gauge that from himself he takes Measures him now too small and now too great." 1 The works to which reference is here implied are especially, Psychology, Descriptive and Explanatory (1894), and Philosophy of Mind (1895), both by Charles Scribner's Sons, N. Y. METHODS AND DIVISIONS OF ETHICS 27 Especially is this true of ethics, within whose sphere the hab- itual and the customary is with the multitude of men almost inseparably related to the ideal standard which is set up by the individual soul. The intimacy of this relation between the better custom and the ideal standard is witnessed to by all the language which men employ when treating of matters of conduct, and by the impossibility, in many particular cases, of drawing legible and fixed lines so as to determine where custom ends and morality, in the stricter and higher meaning of the word, begins. Suppose, for example, that the definition of Wundt be adopted :i "Custom, in the sense in which it is ordinarily used to-day, means a norm of voluntary action that is valid for a national or tribal society without enforcement by ex- press command or by punishment for non-conformity." At once it must be admitted that every essential element in this definition admits of degrees of variation which serve to shade the conception of custom off toward morality on the one side and toward law on the other side. As the author himself admits : " It is true that custom finds its own means of compulsion." But it is not so obviously true, or it is not true at all, that " these, like custom itself, are never of the obligatory kind. They consist neither in subjective com- mandments like the moral laws, nor in objective menaces like the laws of the state." For in multitudes of cases, and indeed as a general rule, the custom is, in the consciousness of the individual (and often rightfully) a " subjective com- mandment like" a moral law; and the menaces which threaten him who breaks the " cake of social custom " are quite as objective and as terrifying as any enacted by the laws of the state. Moreover, there is constant interchange of status amongst all these three — namely, custom, law, and morality. This interchange is essential to man's ethical development. Under the influence of the law of the 1 Ethics, I, p. 151 f. 28 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT state, or of the subjective commandment, either of which may easily enough at its beginning only express the opinions and the will of a few individuals regarding some particular matter of conduct, the custom forms and grows and widens its sphere of influence. Under the same legal or moral influence the custom may be broken down. Or, on the contrary, the development of the custom may render the law nugatory, a dead letter ; or the same development may quite transform the character of the subjective mandate, the voice of conscience, the so-called "voice of God." Instances of all these interrelated transformations are not so rare that they need to be cited in the present connection. They are, in- deed, so numerous as to constitute almost the entire valuable data of historical and evolutionary ethics. The evolution of that marvellous and formidable compound of social cus- toms, religious ideas, and ethical conceptions and opinions, which constitutes the life atmosphere of the modern Hindu is made up of examples. Not less so the more recent history of how this compound is slowly disintegrating. But the same thing is true of those reactions of the popular moral consciousness on its environment which belong to the daily experience of us all. The student of ethics who would take account only of the dictates of his own soul — however cultured and fair — can never find therein the sufficient data for a science or a phil- osophy of human conduct. He may, indeed, justly say : " I, too, am a man." He may even fit himself by bestowing analysis and reflection upon his own moral consciousness, for the righteous claim to know more than ordinarily well what belongs to human moral consciousness. But others, too, are men. They, too, furnish worthy data of ethics. And inasmuch as they cannot appear in propria persona before the investigator and testify out of a full mind and heart what they think and feel about the right and wrong of conduct, the good and bad of character, their testimony METHODS AND DIVISIONS OF ETHICS 29 must be taken in a more indirect and external way. In all this there are some obvious advantages. For although the real meaning of the testimony as thus obtained is more doubtful, and the voice of the witnesses is at first appallingly conflicting, the generalizations possible are placed upon a broader basis, and the insights into eternal and universal moral principles are more capable of being defended and of being transmitted to other minds. The historical and objective method must, therefore, be combined with the psychological and more purely subjective method in all successful study of ethics. Indeed, there is much to commend the attempt of a modern writer ^ to com- bine the two in the claim that the straight road to ethics lies through ethnic psychology ; and this is defined " as the history of custom and of ethical ideas from the psychological stand- point." But after all, whether the path followed be de- scribed as belonging to one method, or to two allied methods, is not a matter upon which great stress need be laid. The history, the objective facts, must be regarded ; otherwise our attempt at a science of ethics is, at best, only the "confes- sions of a fair soul. " But this history, these objective facts, must be interpreted, must be rendered into terms intelligible to the individual's moral consciousness. Otherwise so-called " data of ethics " are not more ethical than are the facts with which the merely narrative historian deals. They are mere chronicles of deeds, not genuine data of ethics. Especially is it true that the comprehensiveness and loftiness of the moral Ideal which each investigator holds aloft in his own conscious soul will chiefly determine his attitude toward the sanctions and ultimate principles of human conduct. When the data have been sufficiently collected, whether by the psychological or by the historical method — or still better, by a skilful combination of both — the problems which are implicated in the data require further treatment 1 Wundt, Ethics, I, p. vi. 30 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT by reflective thinking. Every appeal to human moral con- sciousness reveals, in its dawn, rise, and fuller effulgence, a certain ideal which solicits and, in some sort, compels the allegiance of the human mind. Conceptions have to be recognized, which, although admitting of an almost indefi- nite variety of detailed application, have a universal and unchanging import; they come before the student of ethics for analysis, and for adjustment in that system of ultimate principles and most inclusive ideas which philosophy aims to establish. Just as every sphere of facts, when subjected to scientific treatment shows a residuum of problems of a more ultimate kind, which must be handed on to philosophy for speculative discussion, — so especially, ethics. Man is a speaking, social, and religious being. All these attributes are true of him, so far as the most penetrating re- search can discover, wherever we find him in time and space, and in whatever stage of his evolution in history. But speech, social intercourse, and religious faith and worship are all species of conduct. And the man who uses language, who transacts business and enters into relations of friend- ship or enmity and strife with his fellows, who prays and sacrifices and contracts the obligations of membership in the religious community, is one and the same man. He it is also, who develops the arts and sciences; and who makes practical application of them to the amelioration or degrada- tion of the conditions of human living. This being is born, at one and the same time, into the world of nature, into the society of his fellows, and into what he comes to believe are more or less real and vital relations to the gods. His con- duct is a matter that has to do with right and wrong adjust- ments in all these activities and relations. What Muirhead ^ seems to think has already come true, — namely, " the dis- solution of the ancient partnership between philosophy and its various branches " and the reduction of ethics to a purely 1 The Elements of Ethics, p. 11 f. METHODS AND DIVISIONS OF ETHICS 31 empirical science, — can never become true. Such a rending of human nature as is implied in this dissolution is impos- sible; just as is also the implied result of restricting the sphere of philosophy with its method of reflective thinking. And, indeed, no thorough attempts at a so-called "science of conduct " have ever been made (less even than formerly, in these later days when "empirical science" is so boastful in its claim to cover the entire field to the exclusion of meta- physics) which did not largely resort to the method of specu- lative philosophy. What Professor Watson says ^ was true of the Sophists is true of those who, to-day, advocate a practical ethics "without metaphysics." "The main idea common to them all was that customary morality was not absolute, but was a fair subject of discussion and criticism." No: customary morality is not absolute. The thinker over the problems of human conduct, whatever his method or school, has never found himself able to identify the cus- tomary with the absolutely right. But whence comes this persistent, this provoking idea of " the Absolute " into all our discussions of ethics ? Why cannot the investigator stick to the proper sphere of a truly empirical science and refuse to discuss or even consider the conceptions that are tainted with this metaphysical idea of an absolute? It will appear that the distinctively ethical problems of a more ultimate character with which the metaphysics of ethics finds itself compelled to deal, concern chiefly the rela- tions of human conceptions of the Right and the Wrong in Conduct to that which has Reality. What is it to be really right? What Ground in reality has the Right? Is the World- Ground an ethical Being; and is the really existent System of beings an ethical system? Problems which have the virtual significance, if not the exact form of such ques- tions as the foregoing, inevitably emerge when we try to think ourselves straight through the most profound and 1 Hedonistic Theories, p. 11. 32 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT interesting experiences of man regarding the sources, the development, the sanctions, and the final principles of human conduct. And so the metaphysics of ethics must try to bring the ethical conceptions of mankind into harmony with the best philosophical cognitions and opinions respecting the nature and final purposes of the really existent World and its Ground. Making use to the best of my ability of all three of the proper methods of ethics, I shall, therefore, attempt the fol- lowing task : — to investigate the nature of man as moral (capable of conduct), to classify and discuss the different forms of his conduct as coming under moral law and con- stituting the so-called "duties " and "virtues," and to treat speculatively the ultimate ethical conceptions regarded as having their ground in the existing system of the Universe. Such a treatment naturally results in the three following divisions of the one treatise of the Philosophy of Conduct: (1) The Moral Self; (2) The Virtuous Life; and (3) The Nature of the Eight. Of these three the first part is mainly psychological, the second mainly historical and objective, the third mainly critical and speculative. But in each of the three parts the three branches of the one method must be employed in combination. Upon the study of ethics thus pursued the following remarks now seem appropriate. First : Ethics, so far as it can be rendered scientific, is one of the sciences of man. Hence its dependence upon psychology and anthropology is to a certain extent absolute. Hence also, second: Ethics, like any other similar discipline, should begin inductively. It should strive to plant itself upon a basis of undoubted facts, and from this basis, with a constant attention to the demands for a frequent return to this basis, proceed to the discussion of speculative problems. In this way, third, ethics becomes an important and even necessary pedagogic for the other sciences or disciplines, which deal with the METHODS AND DIVISIONS OF ETHICS 33 conduct of man, — especially for law, economics, politics, and theology. What definite and defensible results may reasonably be expected from this combination of the methods appropriate to the systematic study of human conduct ? To this inquiry only the actual achievements gained by each student's efforts can give the satisfactory reply. But Aristotle's caution applies to all alike. It is not fitting, in accordance with the very nature of the subject to expect, or even to seek for, that more perfect accuracy which is demanded of the physical and natural sciences. The haunting consciousness that ethics did not admit of a strictly scientific construction seems to have accompanied Aristotle^ in all his work of investigation. Neither in respect of minuteness of detail, nor of mathematical exactness, nor of definiteness, nor of finish, nor of justifiable subtlety of argument shall we ex- pect, or strive, to rival the work of the physicist, the chemist, or even the physiologist or biologist. ^ See his declaration, Koi ixplfieiav fi^ bfioioas 4v &irae\i forbidden, in the interest of certain ends, and for certain reasons of which he has only a vague and shifting conception, to realize the various desires whose satisfaction brings happiness. To be sure, fear of some disaster which is regarded as certain to follow contact with, or enjoyment of the tabued object is one of the most powerful motives in enforcing the regula- tions belonging to tabu. But he has a shallow view of human nature who cannot recognize more than this as con- cerned in the matter. The germs of a reverential awe toward the mysterious Unknown and of aspiration to stand well in His sight, to be thought worthy by Him, are also patent here. And this is an end which, although closely allied to, and often confused with, the end of happiness, is not precisely the same. The doctrine of Nemesis, the way in which the gods furnish men with their moral ideals, the mystic and ascetic elements of the religious cult, furnish arguments for the same conclusion. But these subjects be- long more especially to the philosophy of religion. Of course, the answer to the foregoing arguments made by those who hold that happiness- is invariably and necessarily a good in-itself is not difficult to anticipate. It may be said that all the pains voluntarily endured or inflicted are re- garded as only temporarily and relatively instrumental. They are regarded as unavoidable means to the end of a greater measure or a higher kind of happiness in the future. Thus, after all, it is happiness which is constantly kept in mind and, however ignorantly, pursued as the true and final end that is good in-itself. Here, however, we have one of those sophistries of argument which are based upon misin- terpretation of psychological facts. The very distinction which is emphasized by all the ethical judgments and by all the words for conduct is entirely overlooked by such an argu- ment. The man who makes his own happiness the " in-itself- 46 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT good," and who follows this end in ways that run contrary to the moral judgment of the community, however crude and loosely organized, is the had man. But whoever exhibits most of those qualities which conform to the moral judg- ment, with most of enduring and courageous sacrifice of his own happiness, he is the good man. As the conditions of social welfare become more complex, and the society interested in it becomes enlarged by the con- quest, amalgamation, or fusion otherwise of different tribes, the same general rule applies to the conduct with reference to one another of its different elements. The bad king, or chief, is he who seeks the happiness of himself or of his family in ways that run counter to the established judgments as to what a good ruler ought to do. The same thing is true of any of the larger factors in the social organism. The family, or the clan, or the faction, which always makes happiness the end-in-itself of its conduct is regarded by the other families, clans, or factions, as had morally, whether it be successful or unsuccessful in its endeavor. And now that the principles of morals have become expanded so as to cover, at least in some vague and imperfect way, the entire human race, essentially the same standards of ethical judg- ment continue to be applied. We are, indeed, forced to witness the spectacle of the most civilized and Christian nations, arming themselves to their utmost capacity in order to enforce their own notions, each one, as to what will render them most prosperous and most happy. And prominent diplomats are not wanting who openly avow that the only standards of moral excellence in the conduct of nations toward each other, are furnished by the intelligent pursuit, by each, of its own happiness as an in-itself-good. No wonder that race hatred seems just now to be on the in- crease. But when the theoretical moralist attempts to justify this conduct, as far as it can be shown to be instru- mental to the future greater happiness of the greatest THE CONCEPTION OF THE GOOD 47 number, he, on the one hand, admits our contention that men habitually regard conduct from other points of view than its pleasure-pain accompaniments or consequences, and habitually practise as though happiness were instrumental to certain ends that lie beyond itself; and, on the other hand, the theorist has now run his doctrine of happiness, as always an in-itself-good, out into so misty and limitless a domain that, for the average sight of humanity its precise form can no longer be discerned. At any rate, the theory of happiness as the alone good-in-itself has now passed be- yond the point where psychology or ethnology can test it. Its further discussion must be reserved for a more purely speculative treatment. In that complex system of means and ends which human thought and imagination frames, and to the existence of which human practice bears testimony, it seems difficult to carry out any fixed and absolute distinction. The conscious- ness and the conduct of men show beyond doubt that they do recognize the existence of various degrees and kinds of what they consider to be good. And since in this recognition of kinds of good the preference is not always for the greater quantity of the same kind, their notions and their behavior confirm the suspicion that different ideal standards are made use of by different men, and by the same men on differ- ent occasions and under different circumstances. It still further appears that all these different kinds of good may possibly stand, at one time or another, in relations of instru- mental good to that which is good-in-itself. For man is a very complex being; his interests are many; his apprecia- tions are varied ; his sensibilities are capable of an acute and refined development. The concrete problems of conduct are increasingly complicated. Different individuals, and different large collections of individuals, require and actu- ally receive different forms of treatment, — whether to their well-being or ill-being, and whether the well-being be con- 48 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT sidered as more strictly eudaemonistic, or aesthetical, or ethical. Thus, by some persons, under some circumstances, conduct regarded as a moral affair may be made instru- mental to the end of happiness, or to the realization of some aesthetical ideal. By others, under other circumstances, the beautiful object may be constructed and used as the instru- ment of happiness or of a certain moral invigoration and improvement. Still others, under still different circum- stances, show themselves ready to sacrifice all considerations of morality and, as far as possible^ all considerations of hap- piness, to the realization of their aesthetical ideal. Nor are these differences found only in application to brief courses or single pieces of conduct. They distinguish different per- sons vrith reference to those ends which they chiefly pursue in life, and whose influence pervades and characterizes all that they think and do respecting the solution of life's most important problems. Some men live for pleasure, and care little for the morally good or the good of beauty otherwise than as the minister of pleasure. Some men live for art; and some men live for righteousness' sake and to make themselves and others more perfect in righteousness. Is life worth living ? This problem, in spite of its antiquity and the monotony belonging to its reappearances for discussion, retains much of its pristine fascination. Perhaps, indeed, it is growing more engaging as it becomes more complex. But what thinker cannot readily see that no answer is possible unless one has already an answer to these preliminary inquiries : What is the end of life ? and. What is the proper standard of worth, or value ? Is the end my own happiness; and is the standard of value quantity and duration of happiness? Then many, perhaps the majority, must say. No; and there are few that at some time must not render this negative answer. Accordingly, were it not for that mysterious dread of the hereafter, which most men feel, whether the dread be rational or not, suicide would be the THE CONCEPTION OF THE GOOD 49 logical answer. Yet how many are there whom we find setting their teeth together, and stiffening their limbs, that they may walk on regardless of suffering toward the finishing of some work of science, of art, or of benevolence ? In spite of the truth that the distinction between instru- mental goods and the in-itself-good is not absolute, I will here repeat what has already(p. 36 f.) been indicated with regard to the classification of kinds of " the Good " consid- ered as the end of human conscious and voluntary action. In this relative way one may distinguish three kinds of that which has worth for its own sake, of the goods to which all things and events are regarded as means to the end of their attainment. These are the more strictly eudaemonistic good, or good of happiness, the aesthetical good or good of beauty, and the ethical good or good of conduct and character. There are, then, three forms of the Good, whether regarded as means or end ; — namely, the eudaemonistic, the aestheti- cal, the ethical. Three remarks upon this classification will serve both to explain and to justify its future uses in the treatment of the problems of ethics. And, first, these subordinate categories of the Good may be regarded as sustaining a number of curi- ous and interesting relations to each other. This truth has already been illustrated by calling attention to those instru- mental uses of pleasure-pain states and conditions which are so numerous and important in the development of the life of the race. Much of our popular language is justified only in view of the reality of these relations. "The whole ethical vocabulary," says Wundt,i "falls into two great divisions : words that denote ethical characteristics like *good' and *bad,' and words that indicate the emphasis put upon ethical characteristics, like 'esteem ' and 'contempt.' " Almost the same thing, however, might be said of the distinctively eudaemonistic or distinctively aesthetical vocabulary. Hence 1 Ethics, I, p. 41 f. 4 50 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT arises much crossing and confusion in the use of similar terms in every language. But any more precise and re- stricted use of the same terms only serves to bring out more clearly these curious and interesting relations amongst the categories of the Good. Is it not a man's duty to seek his own happiness; or at any rate the happiness of his friends and his fellowmen ? Ought this bad artist to paint such bad pictures; or is it right for the man who might pro- duce so much better art to stoop to the inferior ? Was that not a beautiful (aesthetically good) deed of kindness, — and all the more meritorious (ethically good) because unde- served ? Was not that form of punishment bad (aesthetically or ethically), because it caused needless or useless suffering (was, eudaemonistically considered, an evil) ? But why multiply instances, when the daily life of man is so full of similar questionings ? But, second, all these relations amongst the different kinds of good — whether regarded as instrumental and final, or regarded as appertaining to the eudaemonistic, the ges- thetical, or the ethical good — are suggestive of some sort of a unity which shall bind them together both in their concep- tual form and in their objective realization. Thus far I have considered the facts, as such, of human thinking and feeling, and of the actual behavior of men as influenced by their conceptions of the "goods " of existence. These facts, however, have served the student of ethics both as his incite- ment and as his guide to that supreme attempt at generaliza- tion which tries to embody itself in a conception of " The Good," — of a good that is entitled to be called the Ultimate, or the Supreme and all-inclusive Good. It is, of course, only in an extremely crude and inchoate form if indeed at all, that any such conception belongs to the lower stages of ethical development, whether of the individual or of the race. Primitive man has other ends and interests too close- fitting and imperative to encourage such a generalization. THE CONCEPTION OF THE GOOD 51 If we really knew anything about primitive man we might perhaps be compelled to admit that he had not enough of thought and imagination even to frame such a conception. Yet in the " happy hunting-ground " of the North American Indian there is plenty of fish and game; the customary morals of the tribe are not rudely disturbed ; and it is prob- able that some truly artistic glamour must be spread over the scene. In the blessed rule of King Yima the ancient Parsi believed that men and cattle were immortal ; there was no drought, no cold nor heat, no envy nor old age. And according to the Buddhistic way of thinking, there was long ago an age of glorious soaring beings who had no sin, no sex, no want of food. In the mind of the more highly cul- tivated reflective man there rises the alluring image of a conscious life which shall combine in perfect harmony all those states and conditions that are in-themselves good. Objectifying this image and multiplying it by the various members of the community of such lives, it becomes the con- ception of a realized social ideal. Of this the poet sings : — " Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast ; no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame ; nothing but well and fair." But if this conception be rendered definite in terms only of Eudaemonism, then we shall have the enthusiastic aesthete declaring against "that miserable word enjoyment, which falls infinitely short of the high aesthetic experience and may be a thousand leagues aside from it, having nothing to do with it whatever ; " while the enthusiast for a perfect moral condition will affirm of Eudsemonism that "the very intensity and unremittingness of its appeal to the senses and understanding end by fatiguing and revolting us," and by breeding in us "a desire for cloud, storm, effusion, and relief." What now is that common element which belongs to all 52 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT those states of conscious life which men esteem in-them- selves good? How shall thought and imagination frame a conception of that which is the Good, ultimate, supreme, and yet subjective? To express this vague and comprehen- sive conception we have no one word that is not ambiguous and therefore liable to misappropriation by way of too exclu- sive appropriation to some one of the higher goods of man's conscious life. Let us call it the complete Satisfaction of the ideal Self; only in the use of this word "satisfaction" we must continually and strenuously call back the thought to the psychological and ethnological facts pertinent to the subject. These show that man, as man and everywhere, has longings and aptitudes for different allied and causally related forms of conscious good. He has appreciations of three cognate and yet not identical values. He has sensi- bility; he is capable of happiness and of suffering. He is an artist and a lover of the beautiful. He is a truly moral being; and the different kinds of conduct and of character seem to him to have a value that is peculiarly precious and peculiarly their own. When any manifestation of that which he values as good — the happy, the beautiful, the morally right — is presented to his conscious appreciation he is satisfied. But neither of these goods, apart from the others, gives him a full satisfactioa.^ The picture of a self- conscious life in which they should all be raised to the high- est potency and perfectly united is the picture of the complete subjective satisfaction, — the ultimate and supreme Good for the rational and sentient soul. To this subjective satisfaction corresponds the objective condition, for which we may perhaps most properly employ the word Welfare, ... If, now, the thinker, by the highest 1 The vparov i>€vSos of every method of Eudaemonisra — whether it result in the earlier and grosser forms of Hedonism or be the direct method of Mill's Util- itarianism or the indirect method of Sidgwick's Utilitarianism — is the identifi- cation of happiness with the whole of the in-itself-good. THE CONCEPTION OF THE GOOD 63 exercise of his powers of reflection and imagination, objec- tifies that which brings complete subjective good and gives it the form of a community of selves, so favorably placed as respects their external circumstances, and so well and intelli- gently disposed toward one another that they all realize their highest satisfactions (happiness, beauty, and the morally right), then he is prepared to captivate the mind with a pic- ture of the supreme Social Good. Let it be the " Republic " of Plato, the ideal State of Aristotle, the "Kingdom of Heaven," as opened to all believers. Here every longing is to be satisfied, — the longing for perfect happiness, the longing for unblemished beauty, the longing for complete purity of character. This is the Ideal that sat- isfies the different sides of human nature as it rises to its highest heights of aspiration and endeavor. But it is the Ideal as yet forever unrealized; and, it would appear, forever unrealizable under the actual conditions of human existence. One more important consideration follows from this pre- liminary discussion of the conception of "the Good." The conception is itself, in every aspect, phase, and kind, a subject of development. The actual, available means by which any form of good is to be realized are constantly changing. This is true of the means of happiness, as well as of the means of assthetical and ethical excellence. Nor does any of the three ideals which stand in human imagination for the highest stage of their respective kinds remain un- changed from age to age. Plato's ideally good man is not precisely the same as Aristotle's ; and the ideal Self of the later Greek or Roman Stoic differs from that of either of those masterly teachers of ethics. The perfect Englishman does not satisfy fully either the aesthetical or the ethical consciousness of other nations ; nor is the type of the thor- oughly good man which they exalt by any means wholly sat- isfactory to him. Each feels it necessary to condescend 64 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT from his own superior height even to admire mildly some of the other's more cherished characteristics. Much wider is the difference between the typically good man of the Orient and the man who seems to merit that title in the Western World. From age to age, whether we consider the ideally good individual or the supremely good social organization, the grand and all-inclusive moral Ideal seems always chang- ing; — now rising and now falling, now growing dim and now shining forth with a renewal of its own white, self- illumining radiance. Who is the wholly satisfactory good man ? Where shall we find and how describe him ? And how in detail shall we construct that perfect welfare of social conditions in which all men, in all respects, cor- respond with this type? The answer to these questions is itself, to a large extent, undoubtedly a subject of development. Yet one may not hastily conclude that in ethics all is in a condition of perpetual flux. For ethical development does not extinguish or alter, but, rather, unfolds the unchanging characteristics of human nature. As capable of happiness, of aesthetical aspiration and endeavor, and of the appreciation of conduct and the development of character, the lowest savage entitled to be called a man is more essentially like than unlike his most exalted fellow. There is common " stuff " in all human conceptions of the Good, whether we consider it as means or end, and especially if it be what is deemed good in conduct and in character. The particular differences are indeed great; but, after all, they are chiefly differences of proportion, arrangement, and place of empha- sis. All this will appear more clearly and abundantly in subsequent discussions. Even, however, in the preceding definition of ethics and in the preliminary analysis of this important ethical conception traces of relief from the temp- tation to confusion and scepticism have appeared. Here I will only call attention to the fact that, wherever either the THE CONCEPTION OF THE GOOD 55 goods of happiness or the aesthetical goods are regarded as dependent in any manner or degree upon man's own volun- tary and rational life, there men begin to employ such phrases as " ought " and " ought not " with reference to these goods also. But this usage suggests the truth that the sphere of ethics spreads over the eudaemonistic and aestheti- cal life of man and tends to render all the interests and con- ditions of his life matters, largely or chiefly, of human conduct and human character. That is to say, every attempt to subordinate the moral ideal to economical, eudaemonistic, or aesthetical goods, only results in introducing a new form of emphasizing " the ought. " Thus a sort of supremacy of the Ethical Good over the other forms of the so-called " in- itself Good " seems to be indicated in a naive and unreflect- ing but impressive way. To these considerations might be added such others as are, in Professor Green's splendid argument, ^ made to show how the development of ethics has itself enlarged the application and elevated the content of the ideal Good. Conduct, as we have seen, is the sphere of ethics. In so far, then, as the ideals of happiness and of art are dependent upon conduct, they somehow fall under the sphere of ethics. Still further, if the developing ideal of man, even or especially in its moral aspect, rises so fast above the horizon that the slow climbing upward of his thought, imagination, and endeavor, seems constantly to be further and further, not only from its complete realization, but even from the complete agreement as to precisely what that Ideal is, this increasing distance between the conception and its realization, and this expand- ing of the conception, are not necessarily a good ground for scepticism, or for the refusal on any man's part to aspire and to strive. That is not always best or most influential which is most clearly discerned and scientifically defined. 1 See his Prolegomena to Ethics, book IH, chapters ii-iv. 56 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT And it may be not only the surest destiny but the highest privilege of man to have his thinking baffled and his imag- ination outstripped whenever he attempts to give the full account of what it means to him to use such a phrase as this — the Highest Good, or that which is perfectly and inclu- sively good. PART FIRST THE MORAL SELF " So in man's self arise August anticipations, symbols, types Of a dim splendor ever on before In that eternal circle life pursues." Browning. CHAPTER TV ANALYSIS OF MORAL CONSCIOUSNESS The more detailed study of the moral self, or of man as capable of and responsible for conduct, may fitly begin with a survey of human nature from the point of view held by psy- chological ethics. What that point of view is has already (p. 21 f.) been sufficiently indicated. In other words, the first problem of ethics may be expressed as follows : What equip- ment for the moral life belongs to the subject of that life ? In considering this problem it is not necessary to appeal to facts in order to sustain the conviction that, in all essential respects, man has always had the same kind of a moral equip- ment. By the student of ethics, this equipment must there- fore be considered as an endowment. Indeed if one were to press the ethnological or anthropological discussion to its last ground of standing, one might feel fully justified in saying: If at any time there existed a being half or three-quarters ape and half or one-quarter man, who differed essentially in this respect from man as we now know him, such being would not properly be called a "man." Man, as we now know him, is essentially ethical. His ethical development is not one with which he can dispense and yet continue the claim to be what, psychologically and ethnologically consid- ered, is properly called human. Moreover, in the broadest extent of the inquiry all the so- called faculties and distinctive characteristics of human nature are involved and employed in the life of conduct and in the development of character. Yet a very important dis- 60 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT tinction should be made at this point. Some of these func- tions and activities are not distinctively ethical, as others certainly are. Man, as cognitive merely, as acting in the interests solely of the growth of knowledge and the attain- ment of s^cience, — if we may for the present purpose and by a somewhat difficult measure of abstraction conceive of him as merely cognitive, — uses precisely the same powers in the same way as when he is acting in the interests of the moral life. On the other hand, there are certain forms of mental functioning which the student of ethics is not at liberty to consider in precisely the same manner. A distinction may then be drawn between such part of man's endowment for the life of conduct as is more general and involves all his so-called faculties, and such other part as may be more speci- fic and distinguished by uniquely ethical activities. Perhaps, indeed, the picture of a being v^ith a superb intellectual outfit and an exquisitely cultivated aesthetical judgment and sensibility, but quite without " conscience " in the popular meaning of this word, is not impossible to construct. Actual examples of men long dead or now living may be pointed out, who have not failed to suggest the abstract possibility of such a being. This possibility suggests a clas- sification the fuller justification of which will follow in con- nection with all the subsequent discussion of allied topics. The ordinary division of the psychical activities or func- tions may conveniently be adopted. Ethics, studied psycho- logically, will then have to consider the possibility, and the actual nature of (1) ethical feelings, (2) ethical cognition, and (3) ethical volition or choice as a moral affair. In the consideration of each class of the subjects suggested by this tripartite division, it will be found that the previous two- fold distinction must also be borne in mind. For certain forms of feeling, of judgment, and of willing, will be found to be ethical, in a more specific and unique way. The psy- chological (whether, or not, it be also rational) primacy — ANALYSIS OF MORAL CONSCIOUSNESS 61 the first position in the order of actual development — must be given to the feelings, where our problem is that of tracing the sources and the unfolding of the moral life of man, whether of the individual or of the race. The affective (or affectional) equipment of man for the moral life consists in two classes of feelings. The first of these includes such affections, emotions, passions, or other forms of feeling (and here for the moment we may mention certain impulses and appetites) as do not of themselves have any special ethical significance, but by their intensity or extensity, adjustment, and predominance or control, influ- ence conduct and determine character. Much of this affective equipment man shares with the lower animals, — as, for example, anger, fear, shame, pride, jealousy, sympathy, etc. Their sum-total, so to speak, constitutes the greater part of what is popularly called each man's "disposition." In the same category, with reference to the purposes of a philosophy of conduct, may perhaps best be placed such impulses as curiosity, acquisitiveness, the so-called instinct of self- preservation, etc. It is these affective and impulsive quali- ties of human nature which it is particularly difficult for psychology to classify or even to discriminate and enumerate with any degree of scientific completeness. It is they which, when they are considered as habits or trained faculties under the principle of moderation ("the mean "), Aristotle^ denom- inated the "moral excellences " or virtues. Under what cir- cumstances these affective and impulsive forms of functioning take to themselves a more distinctively ethical quality, and become entitled to such terms as "good" or "bad," in the distinctively ethical meaning of the words, the discussion of such problems as the nature of virtue and vice, the classifi- cation of the virtues and the unity of virtue must be per- mitted to show. But besides such portion of man's moral endowment of 1 Nic. Eth., II,vf. 62 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT feeling as is constituted by his natural impulses, emotions, and passions, in the relation which all these necessarily come to sustain toward the life of conduct and the development of character, there are certain unique forms of distinctively ethical feeling. Of these the most primary and distinctive — indeed, the distinctive and unique affective element in moral consciousness — is a certain feeling which I will ven- ture to call "the feeling of the ought" (or its opposite, "the ought-not "). In its more developed form this affective movement becomes the feeling of moral obligation. Closely allied to, and yet by no means the same with, this feeling is the feeling of ethical approbation (and its opposite). Of these two, when they are compared, it is noticeable that the former stands much nearer to the ultimate and unanalyzable sources of the moral life of man. For ethics, or the science of conduct, has already been distinguished as having to treat of that which ought and ought-not to be done in conduct, and with that which ought and ought-not to be in character. The morally good is equivalent to that which "ought," and the morally bad is that which, on the contrary, answers to the title "ought-not." Unless man were endowed with, or capable of developing the feeling of obligation, — that pecu- liar and unique attitude toward certain kinds of conduct, — he could not possibly lead the moral life. To himself, and so far as his own self-consciousness is concerned, he could neither be good nor bad morally. But the feeling of appro- bation (or its opposite) is frequently, if not generally, almost as much a hedonistic or sesthetical as a strictly ethical affair. That is to say, the feeling of pleasant satisfaction which is experienced on contemplating a morally good deed or an upright character is ordinarily a mixture of sympathetic happiness, sesthetical admiration, and gratified moral con- sciousness. In case there is something naturally painful or sesthetically ugly about the deed which, however, as viewed from the moral point of view, one is still compelled to ANALYSIS OF MORAL CONSCIOUSNESS 63 approve, a partial or complete separation of the elements composing this mixture is effected. Even then, however, if the person performing the deed is regarded as triumphing over his own feelings of pain and of sesthetical repulsion in the interests of a high moral ideal, the more strictly hedon- istic and aesthetical elements of one's approbation return with redoubled force. The father suffering keenly while he punishes his well-beloved son, or the righteous judge with sympathetic emotion condemning his dear friend, are the subjects of a hedonistic and assthetical, as well as of a more strictly ethical approbation. The feeling of merit (or its opposite, the feeling of demerit) should perhaps be added to the other two as belonging to the more distinctly ethical endowment of man on the side of affection or sentiment. But here the psychologist seems to be dealing with states of consciousness yet more complex. The workman in any line of art may well enough feel that he deserves recognition for the good work that he has done, whether or not he has wrought with a moral motive or in accordance with rules laid down by the current conceptions of virtue and of vice. The joy of work finished, or of inven- tion and discovery, especially when difficulties have been overcome, is not altogether alien from the ethical feeling of merit. Thus we read of Gay-Lussac dancing about his labor- atory when a piece of chemical research was successfully accomplished ; and Niebuhr tells of a feeling which must be akin to the Divine joy in creation, over his own well com- pleted task. Still, of the feelings of merit and demerit, as well as of the feelings of approbation and disapprobation, when they attach themselves to the kind of conduct as viewed from the moral standpoint, it seems true : there is to be recognized in all these affectional movements of human consciousness a specific fitness for the moral life. Ethical cognition, or the knowledge, half-knowledge, and opinion, which characterizes man's entire moral devel- 64 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT opment, is also a complex affair. Indeed, the completed moral judgment has its roots in all the cognitive processes and faculties. All human intellection is concerned in, and determinative of, the life of conduct and the development of character. But such cognition culminates, as do all the processes which lead up to and are involved in a completed act of knowledge, in a certain form of judgment. It is the character of this judgment which furnishes the only distinc- tive characteristic of the moral life in respect of its intellec- tual or cognitive aspect. The fuller exposition of the part which intellection plays in man's moral life belongs to the doctrine of ethical judg- ment and to the discussion of the virtues and of the vari- ous theories as to the nature of the right. But the barest preliminary analysis of human moral consciousness must detect the following important facts. Any judgment upon questions of the right or wrong in conduct implies a certain cultivation of those intellectual activities which result in the forming of ideals. Any considerable development of moral character implies a relatively high degree of such culture. It is man as capable of idealization who is also capable of conduct in the profoundest and truest meaning of this word. But the formation of ideals — the more emphati- cally, the higher and nobler the ideals are — requires the reflective and productive activity of thought, and the repro- ductive and spontaneous activity of imagination. A growth of that knowledge which is gained by experience as to the appropriate and ordinarily successful means for realizing (however imperfectly) his ideals, and growing capacity to predict the consequences of conduct, are also an indispensable portion of the intellectual equipment of man for the moral life. All this, however, implies an elaborate development of time-consciousness, and the formation of a more or less dis- tinct and elaborate consciousness of self. It also implies the unfolding of the faculty of recognitive memory, and of reas- ANALYSIS OF MORAL CONSCIOUSNESS (55 oning from cause to effect, and from effect to cause. With- out this forward-and-backward running of reason man could not impute the consequences of good and bad conduct to the personalities whose conduct has entered into the chain of causal influences. We have thus far been considering those processes terminating in ethical cognition which, although an indispensable part of man's moral equipment, are not themselves distinctively ethical. A distinctively and uniquely ethical conception appears, however, to be somehow involved in every act of judgment whose subject is either a piece of conduct judged as such, or some type or exhibition of character. This conception forms the predicate of every genuinely ethical judgment. For in every such judgment the conception " rightness " or " wrongness " (in the peculiar meaning of these words which ethics is forced to recognize) belongs to the predicate. Ethi- cal judgment ^s an adjudging of the "right," or the "wrong," to conduct and to character. Such are the words which carry in them the subtile essence that is distinctive of the result in which all the powers and processes of human intelligence express themselves, when they combine to form an ethical pronouncement. What is it that human intelligence can do, with all its wonderful development in comparison with the lower animals, of the distinctively and uniquely moral sort ? It can form and apply the category of the Right to conduct and to character. In all his ethical judgments — and all his intellectual equipment for the moral life culminates in acts of judgment — man can use the predicate of rightness (or its opposite) to characterize to himself and to others the peculiar marks whose significance the science of ethics investigates. Judging what is right and what is wrong, man is uniquely a moral intelligence. That some special development of the faculty of volition is necessary to conduct and to the development of character is admitted with a practical unanimity both by the unthinking 66 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT multitude and by the writers of the various schools of ethics. From Aristotle to Leslie Stephen, from first to last even among the more clearly pronounced of the Determinists, this admission is the prevalent opinion. In order to actions which deserve the name of moral virtues, Aristotle ^ holds that the doer must choose to do them ; that only the volun- tary is the praiseworthy he thinks to be the self-evident opinion of all men. " Voluntary action, or action deter- mined by the motives of the agent," says Leslie Stephen,^ " is the definition of what is strictly conduct." We shall see later on that this alleged universal testimony is by no means so clear as is customarily supposed; and especially, that the attribution of conduct to the Self, as somehow its own (no matter how vague, inchoate, and inaccurate the concep- tion may be of what constitutes a Self), is far more universal, primary, and self-evident than is the testimony to the volun- tary nature of all conduct. However, that man, on the side of his volitions, is capable of a development which puts him into control of himself in a manner quite superior to the control exercised over their actions by any of the lower ani- mals is a universal assumption of all human social relations ; it is at once a presupposition and a conclusion of all psycho- logical and ethnological investigation. The proposition that man is possessed of a truly moral freedom is not to be defended merely by taking the popular voice or by accepting ready-made, as it were, the conclusions of the libertarian philosopher. The popular voice does not sound from depths that have no need of exploration ; the con- clusions of philosophy are quite too often imported from fields of systematic metaphysics that bear little resemblance to the actual, living, moral consciousness of man. Only as our reflection arises fresh from the skilful interpretation of all the facts of this consciousness and keeps itself tolerably 1 Nich. Eth., II, iii, and III, i f . ; and passim. 2 The Science of Ethics, p. 239. ANALYSIS OF MORAL CONSCIOUSNESS 67 clear of entanglements with the assumptions of physical science and with the uncertain calculations of economics, politics, and sociology, can it lead to that doctrine of moral freedom which most fully satisfies the demands of the pro- foundest ethical principles and the loftiest ethical ideals. Meantime, the fact of analysis remains certain that a rela- tively high degree of volitional faculty constitutes an in- dispensable part of man's equipment for the moral life. Whether man, considered as a Moral Self, has actually achieved a distinctly new kind of freedom cannot be deter- mined by a preliminary analysis. Two supplementary observations may fitly finish the task of this chapter. It is customary to say ^ that the feelings, the emotions and sentiments — as, for example, anger, fear, or even benevolence — are not " in themselves '' moral, are indifferent, and neither good nor bad. But this saying is also true of the cognitive and volitional factors of conduct ; " in themselves " they have no moral value or significance, because in themselves they have no existence whatever. I cannot too much insist that the qualifications of moral good- ness or badness, like all the other qualifications of human nature, attach themselves to the entire psychical, complex activity or attitude, — thought, feeling, will; or rather they are the Self as in this attitude, as thus conducting itself. Without ideas of value, and feeling appreciative of differing values, and without experience as to the consequences of con- duct and as to the means of realizing the ends of conduct, man's willing and choosing would have no moral signifi- cance. The same moral worthlessness attaches to the hav- ing of ideas that stir no moral feeling, are not capable of issuing in conduct, and cannot possibly be regarded as either accepted and embraced or rejected and banished, by a deed of will. And, further, in the moral evolution of the individual 1 So, for example, Dewey (quoting Bentham), Outlines of Ethics, p. 6. 68 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT and of the race the entire Self must move forward as a unity, and in a manner accordant with that close interdependence of all the so-called faculties which the very nature of its uni- tary being both requires and secures. As the customary figures of speech permit us to say : A darkened mind or a callous heart does not favor a good will ; nor can the good will remain good which does not aim at and secure mental illumination, the refining and elevating of the ideals, the increase of wisdom, the quickening and the harmonizing of the higher and nobler forms of sentiment. CHAPTER Y THE FEELING OF OBLIGATION Into every genuinely human consciousness, into every sub- ject of the truly human life there enters at some time a form of emotional disturbance which is chronologically primary and essential to the very idea of ethics, as well as the unique possession of man. It is only when this feeling becomes at- tached to the idea of a certain action, that the action becomes conduct and the truly moral life begins. This statement must be received as applying in the strictest way to the devel- opment of moral consciousness in the individual ; but it may be taken on grounds which, although largely speculative, are quite tenable, to apply also to the development of morality in the race. It follows from the very nature of this feeling, as well as from the circumstances of its first origin in human consciousness, that all analysis ends with its recognition; neither the memory of the individual, nor any sort of records kept by mankind, can recall and represent the occasions or the conditions of its origin in the race. As in similar cases, however, it is possible in this case to place on a firm basis of observed facts our views as to what takes place in the de- velopment of the individual, and to make out an acceptable argument as to what must have taken place in the history of the race. By their language and their customs, considered both in the keeping and in the revolt against them, and by all their judgments, whether more or less reflective, men quite uni- versally show the feeling of obligation. It is only by the 70 PHILOSOPHY OP CONDUCT infusion of this feeling into those excellences of conduct and of character which are called the virtues, that these excel- lences become regarded as duties and accepted as affording some sort of a mandate to the will. " I ought " (or " I ought not "), " he ought " (or its opposite), this deed or class of actions "ought to be done," but the other deed or class of actions "ought not to be done " — such expressions of judg- ment as these are the commonplaces of the talk of mankind in all times and communities, and under every variety of intellectual and social development. But the universal pres- ence and the perpetual recurrence of those feelings and judg- ments to which such expressions bear indisputable testimony, are not more impressive than is the marvellous variety of opinions and practices which emerge to answer the question: What, then, do men generally feel and judge that they ought to do ? In illustration of this variety it is only neces- sary in the present connection to refer to such shocking extremes as are exhibited by those who, like certain Kam- chatkans and Mongolians tolerate or approve of murder, adultery, and theft, but verily think that he who scrapes snow from his shoes with a knife, or lays iron in the fire, or strikes his horse with the rein, ought to be punished with death. It is plainly necessary, then, for the student who approaches the problems of ethics from the psychological and ethnological point of view to admit a very important distinc- tion at this place in his survey of the field of ethics. " The feeling of the ought ^^ is primary^ essential^ unique; the judg- ments as to what one ought are the result of environment^ edu- cation^ and reflection. I have just said that the feeling of obligation in its most original form defies further analysis. By this statement it is not meant that this feeling does not ordinarily, or even universally, arise blended or mixed with other forms of feel- ing and associated with a certain content of perception or of ideas. All states of consciousness in which the affective THE FEELING OF OBLIGATION 71 aspect is most emphasized are a blend, or a confusion, of various elements which psychological analysis may be able to detect, but which are rarely or never found existing separate in the actual life of the soul. Simple feelings, like simple sensations, are only theoretical factors of the conscious states. Nature's chemistry is synthetic here ; and the con- centration of the mind's point of self-regard upon any one aspect of the psychical complex only serves to recognize its existence within the complex, but not to impart to it exist- ence apart from the complex ; or even to justify the opinion that simple psychoses can have any such separate existence. Thus with the "feeling of the ought." This feeling may be — although as to this it is difficult and perhaps impossible to say with perfect confidence — always connected with feel- ings of the pleasure-pain sort. Or, if the expression be pre- ferred, it may be claimed that the feeling of obligation, like all other feelings, always has some tone of either pleasure or pain. That men do recognize duties which are pleasant and other duties which are painful, as well as both pleasant and painful vices, is an indubitable fact. And no amount of theoretical manipulation or practical quibbling can destroy the significance of this fact. It may also be true that the feeling of obligation, especially and of necessity in all its historical development, always has some content of thought to which it is attached. About this, however, some doubt may properly be expressed when we have regard to the many hidden and mysterious ways in which the feeling arises. But, whatever position may be taken upon these and all similar questions of psychological analysis, it still remains true, to admit the fact that habitually, or even universally and necessarily, conscious pleasure or pain, and a content of idea, blends with and modifies and defines the feeling of obligation, is not the same thing as to hold that this feeling can be resolved into, or classified with the pleasure-pains. When adult men say, "I ought," or other words equivalent 72 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT to these, they are customarily expressing a complex attitude of mind toward a particular piece of conduct. Like every other attitude of mind that which is thus expressed involves feeling, thought, and will. And, indeed, one may empha- size either of these three aspects of the total situation by modifying one's expression. Thus one may emphasize the emotional factor by declaring: " I feel (more or less intensely' and unswervingly) that I ought," or may lay stress upon the intellectual factor, the presence of judgment, by saying; "I think (more or less clearly, and with consciousness of reasons or grounds) that I ought;" or even; "I must indeed, and I shall, because I ought " — in this way bringing into evidence the volitional impulse or rational mandate given to the will. Separating in thought, what cannot be found wholly apart in the actual life of the Self, the conclusion is justified that this feeling of the ought is not to be identified with any other content of human consciousness. But although we cannot, strictly speaking, explain the feeling of obligation by resolving it into any other form of feeling, we may observe and describe the occasions on which it probably arises in the life of the individual man. And here the patent and the most important fact is this; no moral life originates with the individual as an experience isolated from his social environment. From the first the human offspring is a member of the family, of the tribe, of the larger or smaller social community, and perhaps of the state or nation. It is idle in this connection to conjecture whether the human child, if born and reared without any environment or education which in any way embodied and enforced some system of concrete judgments as to the right and wrong of conduct, could experience — not to say develop — the feeling of obligation. The very conditions of the con- tinuance and the nurture of the physical life of the infant render it impossible to obtain any trustworthy evidence in support of such a conjecture. We have no satisfactory evi- THE FEELING OF OBLIGATION 78 dence to determine whether the " wolf -children " of India, or the wild men of the woods, show any traces of a feeling of obligation, the occasion of whose origin is not connected with some quasi-social environment. This ought-consciousness, even in its most primitive form, may be said to have both its positive and its negative poles; it is, by nature and essentially, a binding to and a binding not-to, — a feeling which goes with the judgment, I ought to do this or 1 ought not to do that. It is probable, however, that as a rule this emotional disturbance first arises in con- sciousness in some concrete but negative form : It begins as a feeling of repulsion when some natural impulse receives its check by coming into collision with the system of cus- toms or laws which constitute a part of every individual's social environment. It would seem also that, in order to convert the feeling of repulsion awakened by any painful experience into a nega- tive feeling of obligation, the enforcement of the prohibitory custom or law must be recognized as arising from a personal source. The memory-image of the pain of burning teaches the child that it should not again take in hand the hot coal or drink from the steaming cup of milk. The linger- ing reminiscence of how the dog reacted after its tail had been carelessly or sportively trodden upon by the child stirs up and enforces a consciousness more nearly resembling the first crude beginnings of the feeling of obligation. And, indeed, in its earlier experiences, things, animals, and its fellow human beings are not clearly distinguished, either as respects the feelings entertained toward them or as respects the feelings with which the childish imagina- tion has endowed them. From this point of view the child who punishes with a kick the stone that has stumbled him, and the savage who threatens or destroys the fetish which has failed to bring him the fitting good luck, are very much in the same attitude of mind. In the case of the 74 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT animal no long time is needed to discover that, whatever may be the feelings of the stone or of the fetish, it has within a well-spring of appetites and passions similar to the child's own, and a store of like painful and pleasurable experiences. It is not unlikely, however, that the cause of the abused animal may be espoused by some human being who has either the rights of ownership in it, or is moved to protect the animal's interest by either anger or fear, or sympathy. In any such case as this other more intelligible signs of a social and at least quasi-morsil disapprobation are brought to the attention of the offending child. The "should-not," or "better-not," unless you want to get hurt, becomes an " ought-not " because it is not right, because the act causes pain to some other sentient life. It is probable, however, that those influences tending to stir the more primitive mov- ings of the consciousness of the ought, which come from his earlier relations with things and animals, are relatively insig- nificant when compared with those that are due to the same child's more direct transactions with human beings. And here the principles of imitation and of what may be called tribal sympathy are very important. The former of these influences is a powerful factor in the education of certain selected classes of actions, — those, namely, which constitute the forms of conduct preferred by the life of the community. The physical conditions, or the economic and religious con- siderationsj in which the customs originated may have been long ago forgotten. They may, indeed, never have been brought to a clear, conscious recognition by the popular mind. But such ignorance as this has no influence whatever to deter the unreflecting child or adult from falling in with the custom ; — and this all the more heartily if he has earlier been made the subject of painful impressions on account of either an impulsive or a more deliberate breach of any of the prevalent forms of conduct. All expressions of social disapprobation serve to stir the movements of the conscious THE FEELING OF OBLIGATION 75 feeling of the " ought-not ; " the less frequent and pronounced expressions of social approbation arouse the feeling which answers to the words "I ought;" and the principle of imi- tation, so universal, so powerful, so little dependent upon thought, re-enforces and repeats unceasingly the occasions for both these allied forms of the feeling of obligation. Thus this distinctively ethical emotion separates itself in con- sciousness from the accompanying feelings of pleasure and pain; and thus, although always attended by them, it be- comes more and more discernible as just that peculiar and distinctively social and moral feeling which it is — having a character to fit it for its most primeval and essential position in man's endowment for the moral life. Man, like all the other higher animals, and more power- fully and intelligently than any of them, is under the influ- ence of tribal sympathy. He feels a strong and almost irresistible tendency, the origin and significance of which he by no means wholly comprehends, to share in the emotions and sentiments of the community of his fellows. For sympa- thy appears, when understood in the most fundamental way, to be no one particular form of affective excitement. It is the rather that tendency of which all human beings partake to run together in common channels of feeling, — be this feeling of whatsoever kind. Thus the title " sympathetic " applies to all the natural forms of human emotion and senti- ment; and our investigation of man's equipment for the moral life must take account of sympathetic anger, sympa- thetic fear, sympathetic pride, etc., — on to the end of the chapter which enumerates the different forms of feeling common to mankind. To classify the various passions and affections, then, as "egoistic" and "altruistic," is to pre- pare the way for a confusion of qualifications that are dis- tinctly different by making at the outset a distinction which is false. Anger, fear, pride, jealousy, etc., and love and hate, may all be either egoistic or altruistic ; and as a rule 76 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT they all are both, because they are rarely free from the in- fluence of a sympathetic tendency to share in the feelings of the tribe. It is plain, however, that the words "tribe " and "tribal " must be, in this connection, somewhat liberally interpreted. In the dawn of the moral life, when the feeling of obligation is just emerging into consciousness, one's " tribe " is repre- sented by the few individuals of the same — namely, the human kind, who constitute the more definite social environ- ment. These are the objects which the child early comes to recognize as, more than other things including the lower animals, like itself. It is, indeed, the reactions that take place in its relations with such like objects, which enable the child to constitute itself as a moral Self in social intercourse with other moral selves. Naturally, instinctively, and at first quite irresistibly, the human infant feels the impulse to the same emotions and sentiments which those of its own peculiar kind show that they feel. Thus, not only does it come to imitate them in all their fixed forms of action, but also to accompany these actions with the same forms of feel- ing which they display. In this manner does the feeling of the ought become intensified, made more distinctly social ; thus does the feeling get itself fixed in connection with those definite, concrete actions which the community prescribes to the individual as the right form of conduct for him. For there is something painful and unnatural in an individual's not feeling with the other individuals of his own kind. In some such way, I believe, is the origin of the feeling of ought- ness to be described, and its earlier developments explained. So far as the earlier exhibitions of the feeling of obliga- tion on the part of the race are concerned, they appear to resemble those of the individual member of the race. But here observation, as well as memory, soon fails to furnish trustworthy facts. But the truth, as supported by ethno- logical and anthropological researches, is as follows: The THE FEELING OF OBLIGATION 77 individual members of the more childish and undeveloped tribes and races show signs of a strong but blind and un- intelligent feeling of obligation binding them, under the influence of the psychological forces of imitation and sym- pathy, to those forms of conduct which are the fixed customs of the same tribes and races. Here, as in the case of the individual in early life, even among the most upright and intelligent communities, custom and morality are nearly identical. For the feeling of oughtness is first aroused and trained to service in the behalf of the prevalent customs. At the moment when the custom is either obeyed or dis- obeyed, with an accompanying excitement of this peculiar emotion, the moral life on the side of feeling has already begun. For there has arisen in the human consciousness a disturbance which is significant of something having another value than that of mere pleasure^ and which is pregnant with the promise of another than the merely sensuous or intellectual life. It should be noticed in this connection that the early movements of the feeling of obligation are very frequently strongest in the direction of that which is sensuously painful or repulsive. Indeed, this is probably the rule. In the family or tribe where the code of conduct is most simple and void of compliance with the principles of a high-toned moral- ity, the sufferings which excite and enforce the feeling, "I ought not," ordinarily much exceed the pleasures which are experienced through satisfaction of the feeling, "I ought." The boy trained to picking and stealing commonly has small share in the proceeds of success in his art. But if he fails, or if he turns his acquired skill against those who have trained him and have habitually profited by his success, his sufferings become the more abundant. And if we try to apply any theory which identifies even the crudest begin- nings of the feeling of obligation with any member of the pleasure-pain series, in the case of multitudes of the race. 78 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT and especially where the mysterious but almost omnipotent motives of religion are felt; what anomalies arise! Here one might appeal to instances like the following : — to the ignorant devotee of popular Hinduism, who feels that he ought to make his disgusting beverage of the secretions of the sacred cow ; or to the learned and honored chief justice of one of the provinces of India who considered it his duty daily to drink the water in which his mother had washed her feet! To take other instances ; the strictest of the Jains will not drink water which has not been boiled by some one else, or breathe in air which has not been filtered through some screen, lest perchance, they may violate the feeling of obli- ^j-ation not to destroy animal life. But the English milord takes pride in publishing the scores of thousands of living things, to kill which he has with good conscience devoted himself as to his life sport. The former looks upon the latter as guilty of the most heinous crimes; the latter regards the former as being, on account of his silly supersti- tion, somewhat beneath contempt. But after all, if the two are coming upon any common ground of meeting within the domain of ethical feeling, the one must acknowledge the obligation to suffer one's self rather than destroy another's good ; and the other must smother the obligation not to destroy another's good by strictly attending rather to the satisfaction of his own desire for pleasure. Which is the more moral of the two does not concern us at this point. Undoubtedly, feelings of selfish interest, and the desire to earn for one's self the greater reward mingle in all these and similar instances. But whoever, with lawyer-like subtlety, argues that these elements solve the problem of the entire conscious state, and that we have not here to deal with something quite distinctive and unique, simply does not know his case. It appears, then, that the student of ethics must assume, THE FEELING OF OBLIGATION 79 as the necessary presupposition of the origin and develop- ment of the moral life, the existence in man's consciousness of the germinal feeling of obligation. In its earliest manifestations this feeling is vague and obscure, as is the case with all emotional excitements; and, like all other forms of feeling, it is mixed with emotional excitements of a different order and kind. But there it is — defying further analysis, yet demanding recognition as something quite peculiar in the complex content of the individual soul. Like the other earlier manifestations of psychical life, we can rarely or never put our finger precisely upon the time of its origin; but, as a rule, it appears whenever by rod, or gesture, or language coming from one of his own kind, the natural impulses of the child are checked and corrected through a conflict with the custom of his social environment. Much less can its origin be traced with the whole race of men, by any possible extension of anthropological re- searches. Man, as man, is from the first equipped with this peculiar form of feeling in reaction upon his existing social environment. And moreover, although one can never speak with a per- fect confidence respecting one's analysis of the consciousness of the lower animals, there is sufficient reason to hold that the feeling of obligation is uniquely human. We have no evidence that an emotional excitement, much less a rational judgment, corresponding to the phrase, "I ought," ever arises in the mind of any of the lower animals. Anger, fear, pride, jealousy, sympathy, love and hate, they share with man. In these forms of feeling they are, if you please, our younger and weaker brethren. Under the influence of such emotions they perform deeds which have the semblance of human virtues, and which we cannot help (and need not try to help) admiring with a truly ethical approbation. We admire these actions, with a truly ethical and not merely an aesthetical admiration ; because we feel that they are the 80 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT actions which, under the circumstances, ought to be done. Were we so situated, as is the cat whose kittens are in danger of burning or the dog whose master is attacked, and tempted to sacrifice our feeling of duty to the instinct of self- preservation, we feel that our highest satisfaction would come in resistance to the temptation. That the animal is tempted, as we are tempted, that a feeling of obligation is aroused in favor of that which is threatening to the interests of the pleasure-pain sort, that resistance to the temptation will be followed by the feeling of a satisfied moral conscious- ness, — all this, and all that is strictly of the same order as this, there is apparently no sufficient reason for attributing to the animal consciousness. But whatever psychology and biology may enable us to decide about all this (and it is entirely unlikely that they will ever enable us to decide in view of any newly discovered reasons), the truth of ethics remains unchanged. Man has this feeling of obligation. In its most primitive form, it is peculiar, distinctively moral, and to be recognized and classed apart. Its first appearance in any series of conscious states marks the dawning, the first distinctive fact of the moral life. It is the more necessary to insist upon this result of the analysis of the content of moral consciousness, because con- fusion or lack of clearness here is apt to vitiate all one's subsequent theoretical conclusions. This is especially true of those writers on ethics who advocate unreservedly the purely Eudaemonistic and evolutionary points of view. Their psychological basis is in general not well taken. What, for example, but such lack of clear analysis could lead Mr. Leslie Stephen,^ with that splendid but scarcely justifiable confidence which characterizes those who expect to find all the sources of a valid view of ethical problems in the still muddy and rapidly shifting currents of biological evolution, to deny the unique character of the feeling func- 1 The Science of Ethics, p. 311 f. THE FEELING OF OBLIGATION 81 tion of so-called conscience by contrasting it with the opera- tions of the sense of hearing ? " " The ear, " says he, " decides authoritatively that certain sounds are discordant and others harmonious. " But conscience does not so decide. Now the illustration is most apt in contradiction of the view it is designed to illustrate. As mere feeling, the ear "decides" nothing; as mere feeling, conscience decides nothing. Decision in matters of sense or of conduct is an affair of the judgment. The psychological facts are these: In the one case a form of pleasurable or painful feeling arises which is capable of becoming modified and cultivated, while not essentially altered ; and so of being the emotional basis, as it were, for a certain class of judgments, for a certain kind of aesthetical satisfaction and aesthetical development. By making the necessary changes a similar declaration may be confidently ventured with respect to the relations in which the feeling of obligation stands to the origin and develop- ment of the moral life. It is, probably, about as correct to say that the lower animals have no true feelings of harmony or discord as to say that they have no true feeling of obliga- tion. Both these classes of feelings have to be assumed before one can advance a single step in comprehending either the aesthetical or the moral development of man. How, too, does Professor Sidgwick completely miss the mark at this point by identifying the question as to the primary char- acter of this kind of affective consciousness with the ques- tion as to the " rationality " of conduct ! ^ After accepting the general correspondence to the facts of this account of the most primitive feeling which charac- terizes the beginnings of man's moral life, it is not difficult to trace its unfolding in a series of judgments and habits of action. For the emotional excitement out of which emerges the consciousness of obligation is not wont to occur without some definite occasion and content of an intellective and 1 The Methods of Ethics, book I, chap. iii. 6 82 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT volitional sort. As everywhere else in the psychical life, so in the more distinctly ethical forms of that life, it is con- crete, individual experiences and not abstract conceptions or any slightest grasp upon general principles, in which the origins of morality must be sought. The simple initial fact in the evolution of the moral consciousness of the individual is this: the feeling of oughtness gets itself connected with the idea of a certain action and, of course also, with the inner experience in which this action has its impulse or its motive. For example, under the spur of anger the young human animal strikes a blow; or moved by impulsive desire it snatches and craftily conceals another's toy. Or, yet again, the influence of imitation and of impulsive sympathy leads the child to surrender to some fellow a portion of its own good. The expressions of social approval or disap- proval thus called forth, may easily constitute a first lesson in morals. Pain reinforces the negative pole of the feeling of obligation; pleasure, its positive pole. For although pleasure-pains never form the essential whole of the feeling of being morally bound ; they do serve to bind this feeling to certain definite, concrete actions and to their originating or accompanying states of consciousness. Next in the evolution of the moral life must be noted the effect of repetition and the operation of the law of habit. This is true both of the individual and of the race. For the study of ethics never discovers the individual in any situa- tion where he is not compelled by his social environment to the repetition of certain experiences and to the formation of the corresponding habits. Nor is it possible to conceive of the whole of mankind, or of any isolated portion of the race, as beginning their ethical development in a vacuum from which all the residuary habits of their ancestors have been removed. Always and everywhere, the experiences which tend to connect the feeling of obligation with certain con- crete kinds of conduct are sure to be repeated. Thus habits THE FEELING OF OBLIGATION 83 of association are formed between definite actions and the ethical feeling of obligation. It is certain that in the earlier stages of moral evolution only a minimum of judgment, and little or no attempt to form abstract conceptions of right and wrong, accompanies the advances of the moral life. Neither in ethical nor in other concernments, do men first generalize and then experi- ence the feelings appropriate to their generalizations. The child of an advanced civilization and the childish savage both proceed from feeling to judgment rather than in the reverse direction. Therefore that is first judged to be right which has actually, through the powerful influence of the social environment, aroused the feeling of oughtness; and that is judged to be wrong which has, through the same influences working in the opposite direction been welded to the feeling, I ought not. In the first instance of argument with one's self, if argument at all there be, the reasoning of the unfolding moral Self runs as follows: I judge this wrong, because the idea of it excites the feeling of ought-not ; but I judge that right, because the idea of it excites the feeling, I ought. In a word, the earlier inchoate forms of moral judgment are made upon a basis of the feeling of obligation, after this feeling of obligation has been aroused, directed, and associated according to forms pre-existing in the in- dividual's social environment. But the relation which judgments of this class sustain to the feeling of obligation does not remain unchanged. The second stage in the cultivation of the " ought-consciousness" is quickly reached. In this stage judgment begins to take the lead; a growing intelligence assumes the guidance of feeling. Certain attitudes of the moral Self toward particular forms of conduct which express these attitudes are now to be made the basis of generalizations which bring them under the predicates "wrong" and "right." The condi- tions of reaching this second stage of moral development 84 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT require attention to the following three considerations. Language is the first, if not the indispensable condition of such development. Human society informs its new members by speech as to what they must judge about different kinds of conduct under the category belonging to all conduct. This category is, of course, that of the morally right (and its opposite). Early judgments that are not merely expres- sive of impulsive or habitual forms of feeling, but are the result and the expression of a process of generalization are themselves, for the most part, taught in words. In matters of conduct these words signify the approbation or disappro- bation, the collective "ought-consciousness," of the social environment. They convey to the child the resultants of the forces which have worked through generations of experience to produce a certain average moral status, in those forms of conception and judgment which human language permits. It is not right to lie, to steal, to strike in anger; or, at least, it is wrong to lie to some persons, if permissible in other cases; it is wrong to steal from one's parents or one's "pals," although encouraged by them to steal, when others are the victims, etc. The acceptance, out of deference to pre-existent and all-encompassing social authority, of a cer- tain set of rules, precepts, maxims, or other forms of gener- alized judgments, reverses in a measure the relation hitherto maintained between the intellect and the feeling of obliga- tion. The order of relation in the quasi-moral argument now becomes somewhat as follows : I feel that I ought not to do this, because — as I have been taught and, therefore, myself judge — it is wrong ; or I feel that I ought to do that, be- cause I know that it is right. In this second stage of the cultivation of the feeling of obligation, feeling tends rather to follow judgment than, as in the earlier stage, wholly to determine it. In this connection, however, another set of considerations becomes most important. These concern the effects of a THE FEELING OF OBLIGATION 85 fusion of the " ought-consciousness " with particular passions and affections so as to make the latter themselves the objects of the feeling of oughtness. It is in the fact of such a fusion that the view of the so-called " Emotional Intuitionists " finds its support. The fact is significant and undoubted. But the view taken by these theorists misinterprets the signifi- cance of the fact through misunderstanding its psychological nature and origin. " In a Creature capable of forming gen- eral Notions of Things," says Lord Shaftesbury, ^ "not only the outward Beings which offer themselves to the Sense, are the Objects of Affection; but the very Actions themselves, and the Affections of Pity, Kindness, Gratitude, and their Contrarys, being brought into the Mind by Reflection, be- come Objects. So that, by means of this reflected Sense, there arises another kind of Affection toward those very Affections themselves, which have been already felt, and are now become the Subject of a new Liking or Dislike." Now that the feeling of obligation becomes attached to, or fused with, the different forms of affective excitement, so that men come to regard these forms as partaking of that quality to which the ought-consciousness responds, is an obvious ex- perience. But the experience is not a proof, it is not even an indication of the truthfulness of that view which regards some of these passions and affections as having inherently a superior moral quality (or, indeed, any moral quality at all) ; or which represents conscience as the innate tact or faculty of judgment capable of discriminating this inherent superior quality. All the natural passions and affections of man — anger, fear, pride, jealousy, sympathy, love, and hate — are in themselves equally moral, or rather non-moral. But by their mixture with each other, their attachment to the feeling of obligation, their indulgence or control by the intellect in the pursuit of various ends, they become either 1 Inquiry, Book I, Part ii, Section 3 j See L. A. Selby-Bigge, British Moral- ists, I, p. 11. 86 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT good or bad. All these passions and affections alike may be called the "stuff" or raw material of certain virtues and vices. Their virtuousness or viciousness does not arise from the insight of any inborn or quasi-divine faculty of feeling or of judgment, but is created by the connections brought about between them and the " ought-consciousness" as the result of early education and of social influences. In communities where ethical development is still in a low and relatively primitive stage (and this is true in not a few respects of the most highly civilized [sic] and so-called Christian communities), certain kinds of anger, fear, pride, jealousy, and hate, which a refined and rational morality con- demns, are not only tolerated but are approbated as though they were the most fundamental, if not the most exalted of the virtues. In communities which have reached a higher stage of ethical development, the force of the feeling of obli- gation may give to the natural and equally non-moral feel- ings of pity, kindness, gratitude (though to this last, most rarely of all), a character which a still higher point of view must regard with doubt when the claim is set up that these feelings are the chiefest and most distinctively right forms of affection. The truth is obvious enough ; it is simply this. The frequent arousing of the consciousness of obligation in connection with any form of the passions and affections seems, in the first instance, to make men blindly feel that some of them ought, and others ought not, to exist in con- sciousness or to be indulged. Judgments affirming the obli- gation are immediately framed in view of this fusion of feeling; these judgments are also taught in terms which express to the individual the formulated moral law of his social superiors. So that, if at first the child simply feels the obligation to indulge or to control anger, pride, etc., and bases its more primitive judgments on this feeling, it soon accepts the judgment, It is right (or wrong) to indulge anger, pride, etc. ; and feels that, because ib is right (or wrong), THE FEELING OF OBLIGATION 8T anger, pride, etc., ought (or ought not) to be indulged (or to be controlled). A certain primacy of feeling in the actual order of the moral life may, then, properly be maintained. But to main- tain (as does, for example, Hermann Schwarz) that we immediately feel the worth of sympathy to be higher than that of selfishness is to mistake the psychology of moral feeling, and the history of the evolution of customs and of morality. For psychology knows no such simple form of feeling or mental principle of any sort as selfishness ; and, as we have already seen (p. 75 f. ), sympathy is a word which must stand for that universal tendency to feel with the feeling of the other members of the same species which belongs to man everywhere, and, indeed, to many species of the lower animals. Certain forms of man's varied emotional equipment are, indeed, much more likely than others to lead to attacks upon the person and property of others, and so to wrong-doing whether in the form of a breach of custom or a violation of the precepts of the higher morality. Certain other forms are much more frequently on the side, as it were, of established custom and of the purer moral precept. Thus anger, jeal- ousy, and hate are in the main, and rightly, esteemed wrong by the cultivated moral consciousness ; pity, generosity, and love are deemed to have a higher worth when they appear for judgment at the bar where refined feeling renders its verdict. On the other hand, however, anger, jealousy, and even hatred, safeguard not only the rights of the individual but also the marital and other rights of the family, the tribe, and the nation ; — yes, in the last resort, the sacred and eternal rights of the weak and defenceless members of the human race against the violent or the insidious endeavors of the unscrupulous rich and the strong. And the individual, or the race, that had not just these forms of emotional excitement committed — however fitfully and imperfectly — 88 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT to the interests of moral development would have small chance indeed of realizing the moral ideal. How far off the most civilized communities are at present from this ideal may be judged by this among many other indications : they can scarcely conceive of these emotions being other than selfish ; while unthinking pity, generous use of the fruits of injus- tice, and injudicious and injurious love are without further critical examination commended as giving satisfaction to the consciousness of obligation. When then, as Lord Shaftesbury said, " the affections of pity, kindness, gratitude, and their contraries," become themselves "the objects of affection," "the subjects of a new liking or dislike," a new phase in the culture of the con- sciousness of obligation results. The human being begins to feel : I ought (or ought-not) to be angry, jealous, fearful, pitiful, generous, kind, etc. From the very nature of human society, the so-called altruistic feelings come, on the whole, to have upon their side the feeling of obligation — at least, within the limits of the community which is regarded as constituting the individual's peculiar social environment. Such a stage of ethical development is, as a rule, embodied in the social principle : Every man ought to love his neighbor and hate his enemy. A third set of considerations serves to make clearer the place which the feeling of obligation holds in the original equipment and continuous development of the moral life. As in the case of all other judgments, so in respect of judg- ments concerning the right and wrong of conduct, men grow in knowledge by asking and answering the question. Why ? In this case also, as in the case of all kinds of judgments, the answer may be either specious or genuine. It may serve to satisfy the demand for explanation either by distracting the attention or by disclosing a real reason. When I say: I judge this to be right, because I feel it ought to be done ; or that wrong, because 1 feel it ought not to be done, the import THE FEELING OF OBLIGATION 89 of my judgment is still simply this: I have the feeling of obligation to do or not to do. That is to say, the judgment is declarative of a subjective and mainly affective attitude of the Self. The word " because " adds no real reason to the judgment. When, however, I say: I both judge and feel this class of actions to be right, and the other to be wrong, because they are accordant with, or contrary to, the precept, maxim, law, or custom, which has become a part of my intellectual equipment for the moral life, then I do ground both judgment and feeling in reasons that lie in part beyond themselves. But a still further stage in moral development is inevi- table. Some time and somehow — perhaps frequently and in many ways — the child growing to adult life and influenced by varied experiences, asks of the very judgments it has unthinkingly accepted from society still a reason, Why ? As in other matters, so in ethical concernments, the preva- lent maxims, precepts, laws, and customs must account to the intellect of the individual for their own right to exist- ence as the guides and lords of his moral life. And with the raising of this question there goes inevitably a new agi- tation of the feeling of obligation ; — an inquiry whether, after all, this feeling itself " ought to " maintain its own time-honored attachments and associations ! The problem : " Ought I really to feel as I actually feel I ought ? " is surely one of the strangest and yet most significant and interesting of all problems. Its meaning and its bearings upon the nature and the development of man's moral life can be understood only when we have considered in detail the sig- nificance of the phrase which was added to the definition of the sphere of ethics — a study of human conduct as related to a rational ideal. The further exposition of the part which the feeling of obligation plays in the moral development of man requires that the working of other faculties in his equipment for the 90 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT life of conduct should be taken into the account. In part the origin, nature, and cultivation of ethical judgments must be discussed before we can understand the later forms of this consciousness of oughtness. But two or three classes of familiar phenomena deserve at least a reference in this con- nection. First, it may readily be seen that vacillations and uncertainties of this form of ethical feeling are inevitable. These are not simply due to its obscuration and blunting by the so-called selfish emotions. Doubt about the rightfulness of the control of the feeling of obligation by the current rules of conduct is essential to a higher development of the indi- vidual and of the race. But such doubt inevitably leads to the disturbance of the feeling and to its possible detachment from its old associations. While this feeling trembles in the balance, as it were, between the old and the new point of attachment an important influence is being exercised upon the entire attitude of the individual toward the conception of duty and toward the dutiful life. In large communities, and over continents occupied by different races and different constitutions of existing society, periods of " illumination " are always connected with unusual disturbances in morals and in the moral consciousness. This was true of the epoch when the Sophists became prominent in Greece, of the Renaissance in the Middle Ages, of the Avfklarung in Europe in the eighteenth century ; it is true of to-day in connection with the modern discoveries of ethnology and with the appli- cation of some of the cruder views of biological evolution to the development of morality in the human race. And, second, the place of the feeling of obligation in the moral life explains, in part, how divergent views as to the nature and authority of so-called "conscience" may arise. To speak of a conscience, or the conscience is likely to induce misunderstanding of the most primary data of psy- chological ethics. Moral consciousness man has ; or, rather, he is essentially a moral consciousness. But in this moral THE FEELING OF OBLIGATION 91 nature of his consciousness are found involved all of his so- called faculties, or powers, in so far as they have reference to the production and the criticism of conduct. No wonder, then, that those theorists who appeal solely to the feeling of obligation fail to convince others who take their appeal to the bar of an enlightened judgment. And just as little wonder that the latter, when they offend the feeling of obligation by their coolly intellectual judgments, run the risk of being described as essentially immoral in their standards of judg- ment. Thus fine feeling and sound judgment in matters of conduct may seem to be involved in a perpetual conflict. But, third, these same considerations show how this kind of conflict in morals, with all the tragedy to which these words indubitably bear witness is the fate of the individual and of the race, — the price that must be paid for all essential progress under existing social conditions toward the realization of the moral ideal. If moral judgment, based on grounds that lie outside itself and beyond the reach of mere feeling, is ever to be framed, then feeling and judg- ment must betimes come into conflict. But since the rational man feels the obligation to be rational, — and, sometimes, as his supremest obligation, — therefore the feeling of obli- gation is liable to be divided against itself. He who has not judged that he ought not to do that which he, neverthe- less, still feels that he ought to do has probably not yet passed beyond the earliest stages of moral development. And, finally, we are now prepared in a general way to give an opinion upon one of the contentions of the extreme evolutionary school in ethics. This school would make out that all which concerns the feeling of obligation is relative, is subject to evolution. In the case of the individual man such a conclusion plainly is not true to the facts in the case. With the individual the most primary movings of an "ought- consciousness " are not modifications of the pleasure-pain feeling, or of any of those forms of emotional excitement 92 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT which are so often improperly divided into egoistic and altruistic. On the other hand, the most primary forms of the quasi-ethical judgments are only propositions stating the fact of the arousement of this feeling, and the particular actions to which this feeling makes its earliest and firmest attachments are explicable by reference to influences of education and environment. In the later development of the Moral Self, the feeling of obligation becomes modified and changed in its associations by the changed character of the same influences, as these influences work upon all the passions and affections, and upon a system of increasingly intelligent judgments. Thus do man's moral convictions form themselves; and they always have the twofold aspect in which the feeling of obligation stands to his voluntary nature. They have a passive aspect; they are a consciousness of being under law. They have also an active aspect; they are an emotional ex- citement which constitutes a call to volition. The feeling of obligation is a feeling of being bound; for "the ought" partakes, in a measure, of the nature of a "must;" it is also an impulsive feeling, and in its more intense forms comes very near to passing over from emotional impulse into an "I will." What is true in the small sphere is probably true in the large. What is true of the ought-consciousness of the indi- vidual is, so far as we can discover, true of the place which the feeling of obligation has always taken in the develop- ment of the moral life of the race. CHAPTER YI OTHER ETHICAL FEELINGS The preceding discussion of the feeling of obligation has been so detailed as to make unnecessary a lengthy treatment of the other ethical feelings. Certain changes being made, most of what Has been already said with reference to it is also applicable to them. In general they may be spoken of as the feelings of approbation and disapprobation, and the feelings of merit and demerit — all to be regarded from the distinctively ethical point of view. But these affective atti- tudes of human consciousness toward conduct and toward character, when analyzed, appear more complex than the more primitive and distinctively ethical feeling of oughtness. The feeling of moral approbation may be described as that pleasant satisfaction which the morally awakened conscious- ness has when contemplating a piece of conduct that is in accordance with the feeling of obligation. The feeling of disapprobation, on the other hand, is the unpleasant dis- satisfaction with which conduct is contemplated that violates the feeling of obligation. The very language which we are obliged to use in every attempt at describing these feelings suggests some of the more important differences from, as well as certain likenesses to, the early emotional stirrings of the "ought-consciousness." Of such differences I shall now briefly call attention to the following four. It is not unimportant to notice a difference in the ethical feelings as respects their temporal relation toward the deed. In imagination, at least, the feeling of obligation is fitly 94 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT excited in view of a deed that is about to be done. This feeling looks forward to the future conduct; it arises on contemplation of conduct that is still to be. What shall I do, or refrain from doing ? is the inquiry which stirs the feeling of " I ought " or " I ought-not. " The question what ought he to have done is speculative; a problem which, for its very consideration requires an act of imagination setting the Self into time relations before the deed in regard to which the question is raised. But with the feelings of moral appro- bation and disapprobation just the reverse is true. These feelings are always and necessarily aroused in view of con- duct regarded as already done. The deed may, in fact, only be imagined as done, may be contemplated and passed upon with approbation or disapprobation when its transaction is a purely subjective affair. But even in all such cases the tem- poral relation of the different members in the conscious series remains unaltered. The feeling of obligation looks forward ; the feelings of moral approbation and disapproba- tion look backward. Of course, it must be remembered that all one's own passions and affections are, in so far as they are conceived of as controlled by the self, regarded as actions or deeds. And thus one may come to look upon their con- tinued, even momentary indulgence or prompt repression, with the feeling of obligation; while men contemplate the just past indulgence or repression of these same passions and affections with the feeling of approbation (or its opposite). The characteristic difference just mentioned is almost identical with another, when the whole subject is considered from a slightly changed point of view. To employ language, the fuller import of which requires further analysis, it may be said that the feeling of obligation constitutes a ''motive " for the will. The emotion partakes of the nature of those states of consciousness which are regarded as impelling and attract- ing toward, or repelling and deterring from, certain actions, and the choices on which the actions depend ; it is essentially OTHEK ETHICAL FEELINGS 95 a demand to do something — a summons issued to the volun- tary nature. But the feelings of approbation and of disap- probation are of a more contemplative character ; they more nearly resemble the aesthetical stirrings with which an artis- tically good or bad piece of work is regarded. In either case, of course, one may wish to punish or to reward the doer of the work. But this wish is an impulse to another piece of conduct which in its turn will have to be contemplated, when it is finished, with feelings of approval or of disapproval. A third difference between the two kinds of ethical feeling will be found important when we come to consider the nature, the formation, and the development of the various virtues and vices. The whole complex mental condition, especially as determined by the predominance, or even by the presence, of these feelings is different. Above all is this true of the relations which they both sustain to our pleasures and our pains. The feeling of obligation to do, when strongest and worthiest of a high place in the scale of ethical values, may be most painful ; and the same thing is true of the feeling of obligation when it corresponds to the judgment, " I ought not." Whereas, although one may fitly speak of pleasant duties, the increment of pleasure which comes from the feeling of obligation to indulge the inclinations or to perform the actions which constitute these so-called "pleasant duties," is ordinarily very small. But a certain amount of pleasure is an essential element — or, rather, it is the char- acteristic and universal tone — of the feeling of approbation; and a certain amount of pain naturally and necessarily tinges the feeling of moral disapprobation. Both the pleasure and the pain are however, ordinarily of a predominatingly mild and rather ineffective character. And if either of them becomes intense, it is almost certain to be the pain. It is customary on the part of all the more persuasive of the hedonistic theories to emphasize the value of those pleas- ures and pains which go with the approving or the disapprov- 96 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT ing of conscience, by calling them "higher," "nobler," "worthier" of a rational being, etc. The hedging which such a course to the argument involves will be tracked out later. But this fact of human experience may as well be noted and emphasized at once. The feeling of obligation is for the most part, both in its positive and in its negative form (both as the feeling, "I ought," and the feeling, "I ought not"), far more productive of pain than of pleasure. And most of the positive pleasures which the individual secures come from actions that either violate this feeling or give scanty recognition to it. On the contrary, the pleasures which come from the feeling of strictly moral approbation are, as pleasures, comparatively weak and ineffective as motives to right conduct, while the pains that are an essen- tial part of the emotional excitement which wrong-doing occasions are relatively strong; and, in the case of a morally awakened consciousness, they may become very intense. Now if all the pleasures of the approving consciences of all mankind were, quoad pleasures, to be placed in the scale with the pains which all mankind have suffered both in doing the right and in disapproving the wrong, there can be little doubt which way that scale would turn. In a word, the sufferings of humanity far exceed its pleasures as immediate results or accompaniments of obedience to the moral law. The fourth class of differences which characterize the feeling of obligation and the feeling of moral approbation (or its opposite) is still more distinctive. Or — better said, perhaps — there are no feelings of approbation and disappro- bation which, either as respects their origin or their char- acter, are quite distinctively and uniquely ethical. This fundamental fact was indicated when ethics was called, even in an only partially satisfactory way, the scientific study of that which "ought to be" in conduct and in character. Probably no one would think of defining the subject-matter of ethics as though it were wholly, or chiefly, concerned with OTHER ETHICAL FEELINGS 97 that pleasant satisfaction and unpleasant dissatisfaction which men feel in contemplating different kinds of conduct. At any rate, the feelings of approbation and disapprobation with which men do actually regard conduct and character are, considered barely as modes of affective consciousness, very closely allied to certain non-moral forms of feeling. Indeed, they are so closely allied to corresponding aesthetical feelings as to make difficult or impossible any distinction which has a sufficient permanent basis in psychological analysis. Here' the difference between the aesthetical and the ethical is much more a difference in the character of the objects, and in the results which flow from this difference in objects, than a difference in the essential character of the feelings themselves. The distinction just drawn requires further illustration. There are certain qualities of all beings, whether of things and animals in the system of so-called nature or of men in the existing social system, which are naturally regarded with feelings of approval; certain other qualities, with feelings of disapproval. Exhibitions of power on a large scale, or of skill in the adaptation of means to ends, or of judgment and good taste in arranging colors and forms, when these exhibitions are not regarded as in any way inimicable to their interests, are met by men everywhere with feelings of pleasant satisfaction. This is but the natural attitude of human consciousness toward the various kinds of goods. It is not necessary at present to inquire whether the approval is the source of the pleasure, or is only its effect or its accompaniment. It may, in fact, on various occasions stand in either one of these three relations to the happiness of the conscious soul. In all cases, approbation is the characteristic human way of greeting with appropriate feeling that which the mind apprehends as an instrumental or a final good. For example, the savage approves of the bow or the war-club or the spear that has done him good service, 7 98 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT or that is beautifully decorated. The worshipper of the stars or of the sacred fire regards the object of his adoration with a similar feeling. The traveller stands " like-minded " before the Taj Mahal or the Pyramid of Cheops ; or he looks off from Observation Hill at Darjeeling upon Kinchinjanga and its attendant members of the Himalayas with emotions of wonder and admiration that strive to become an adequate expression of what is due to those qualities of grandeur in beauty which such objects seem to possess. But now let the same savage contemplate his chief, or himself, using bow, or club, or spear, in deeds of prowess ; and his feeling toward the author of such worthy conduct remains, as feeling, essentially unchanged. The same thing is true when the traveller remembers the builder of the colossal structure of the pyramid, or the architect of this gem of beauty, the Taj Mahal; or even when he regards the Infinite One as the creator of the loftiest mountains of the world. In each case the approbation is an emotion of pleasant satisfaction accom- panying the contemplation of that which is regarded as a species of good. When, however, any object is definitively contemplated as the product of some conscious agent, as a piece of his con- duct, so to say, then a change in the attitude of the contem- plating mind occurs ; but it is rather a change in the point of attachment for the feeling of approbation than a change in the character of the feeling itself. That is to say, the con- duct is met with the feeling of a pleasant satisfaction on account of its qualities as good conduct ; and the responsible agent is approbated — at least so far as this particular action is concerned — as a good man. Something further is needed in order to connect as strictly as possible the feeling of approbation with the most distinc- tively ethical elements of consciousness. Suppose now that the motives which led to the observed conduct become fully known; and, as well, the kind of real character which the OTHER ETHICAL FEELINGS 99 conduct evinced. Suppose that this deed which seemed so noble was really done from base motives. It was a seeming good which originated in hypocrisy, cowardice, avarice, or malicious hatred. Or it was a piece of splendid impru- dence, rash generosity, mistaken kindness. Then we shall see the emotional stirrings of the contemplative soul become yet more complex. A curious struggle between feelings of approbation and feelings of disapprobation now emerges in consciousness. The deed is approved, the motive disap- proved. Or deed and motive are both approved, but only in a qualified or faint-hearted way. The man did well and meant well, and yet — he should have been less hasty, more deliberate and wise about probable consequences. Suppose, however, that this is one of those rare and splendid cases where, in obedience to the feeling of obligation but at cost of immense self-sacrifice, with deliberate judgment and with a noble scorn of one's own suffering, with a wise use of means in the interests of a worthy end, and with the worthiest ex- hibition of economically directed strength, the deed was both chosen and executed; then, however our sensitive natures shrink with sympathetic pain, our whole aesthetical and ethical being approves. How truly splendid, how perfectly excellent a piece of conduct it was ! Why ? Because it pre- sents to the moral consciousness a picture of the highest kind of activity belonging to an ideal Self. And this realization of the moral ideal in the object gives its most distinctively moral character to the approving feelings with which our consciousness greets the object. Keeping these differences in mind, what was said in treat- ing of the nature, origin, and development of the moral life as dependent upon the feeling of obligation may be briefly recalled, but need not be repeated in detail. These feelings of approbation and of disapprobation with which men every- where, and in all stages of development, regard their own and others' conduct, must be assumed as natural for every indi- 100 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT vidual. The origin of these feelings for the race is lost in obscurity ; but it may be said that men began to approve and to disapprove morally, whenever they began to be moral, — i. e., whenever they began to regard actions and states of consciousness leading to action from the point of view held by the feelings and judgments of obligation. All that is deemed good is approved, — the happifying, the beautifying, the morally good. But the man who is morally approbated is the man who does what ought to be done. The same distinctive and unique character which belongs to the feeling of obligation can, therefore, scarcely be claimed for that feeling of pleasant satisfaction with which all men greet what is considered as morally worthy in conduct or in character. For — as I have already said — ethical approba- tion is so closely akin to the admiration with which our aesthetical susceptibilities regard whatever is sublime and beautiful that it is difficult or impossible always to distin- guish between the two. Full and unhesitating admiration is rendered to the hero who does the good deed in a strong and beautiful way. And even he who, like Milton's Satan, does the morally wrong deed, in a manner that seems strong and beautiful, is the object of admiration. Nor can this admira- tion be said to be entirely won-moral in its character. For strength and beauty in the execution of one's purpose are, of necessity, considered as significant of that strenuous will and fine discerning judgment which are distinctive and highly important qualifications of the ideal Self. And this ideal Self is the Ideal of ethics, — the standard by which moral consciousness measures the worth of conduct and the right to approval which good conduct possesses. The uncultured consciousness is not wholly wrong when it looks with appro- bation upon the behavior exploited in melodrama, or nar- rated in the biography of dashing rogues, like Dick Turpin or Sixteen-string Jack. The development of the feelings of ethical approbation or OTHER ETHICAL FEELINGS 101 disapprobation is dependent upon the relations which are established between these feelings and the ideas and judg- ments that concern conduct and character. Thus the answer to the question, Why are particular forms of conduct and types of character approved, and others disapproved ? like the similar question in art, can be understood only as the result of a detailed historical investigation. Such an inves- tigation, when carried on in a comprehensive way, reveals the enormous complexity of influences which surround and shape the unfolding of the moral consciousness of the indi- vidual and of the race. Like all other feelings these ethical emotions may vary in intensity and in that quality called "refinement" which is, after all, rather a change in the intellectual and ideal aspect of moral consciousness regarded as guiding the restraining control of will. Here, as every- where, the principle of habit becomes exceedingly important. Those feelings which I have ventured to call ethical merit and demerit are yet more complex, — less distinctively and uniquely primitive and original. This will appear if we consider all that is involved in Professor Bowne's ^ excellent definition of merit as " the desert of moral approval and the right to be rewarded accordingly." This definition must be interpreted as involving at least the following factors: (1) A feeling of obligation to approve (I ought to he morally approbated) ; (2) a feeling of right to assert a claim (I am entitled to some form of the good, which ovght to come to me) ; (3) a vague feeling of another's duty, as it were (for another than I ought to treat me " accordingly " — by bring- ing me some reward). It is plain that such feelings as those just analyzed imply much more than is revealed at once even to the most pene- trating and thorough analysis. Indeed, it may be claimed not inaptly that they imply a somewhat firm grasp of conviction — however vague and incoherent the accompany- 1 The Principles of Ethics, p. 171. 102 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT ing ideas and judgments may be — upon the existence of an extended social system which is at least partially conducted in accordance with moral principles. It is, indeed, true that the higher one's culture in essential morality grows, the less does one care for, or work for, the reward of merit. And the typically good man is he who is good, " not for the sake of gaining heaven or of escaping hell." Still further, he who encourages within himself the feeling of a right to assert the claim of merit may easily dull the fine edge of his own feeling of moral approbation, and dim the lustre of the moral quality of his deed. There is another side to all this, however — most true, most significant. The good man feels that he ought to approve the virtues of others and to assist, so far as in him lies, in seeing to it that virtue is rewarded and vice disapproved and punished. He is also filled with the conviction that no society is as yet properly constructed so long as the goods of life are distributed by it with scanty regard for the merit or demerit of its own individual mem- bers. The more one insists upon the importance of right- eousness in social development, the more important becomes the practical effectiveness of the feelings designated by the words merit and demerit. If we study the historical evolution of customs, laws, and the opinions and codes that embody the current feelings and judgments of an ethical kind, the strength and tenacity of the same conviction among mankind are still more plainly evinced. The man who has done another "a good turn," or has labored, suffered, and achieved, in the interests of the tribe or of the nation, instinctively feels that some reward is of his right and is bounden duty on the part of his fellows. Even " Thanks to men Of noble minds is honorable meed." On the other hand, total and cold indifference, or an attitude of haughty scorn, toward the moral approval of others is OTHER ETHICAL FEELINGS 103 in itself discordant with the moral Ideal; while all the strongest forces that bind and move men together — such as imitation, tribal sympathy, community of interests, yearning for social'* connections and desire for this very thing, the moral esteem of one's fellows — are pledged to operate against the total suppression of the feelings of merit and demerit. It is, indeed, doubtful whether indifference to all reward for right conduct is not uniformly more or less feigned, and the scorn for the approbation of other moral beings, as a rule, only another and more subtle way of asserting the same sense, when we have done right, of our "right to be treated accordingly." Under the influence of this feeling men turn from the jury at hand to the jury more remote, from the court at present sitting to the court of the future, from the human judgment to the judgment of the invisible powers, from the verdict of the race even to the infallible verdict of God. One of the most curious instances of the conviction that he who has done what he ought has acquired "the desert of moral approval and the right to be rewarded accordingly," coupled with a yet more curious contradiction of involved beliefs, was given years ago by Mr. Spencer in his "First Principles," ^ when, reflecting upon the certainty that he would be misunder- stood in his effort to reconcile science and religion, he comforted and justified himself as follows : " Whoever hesi- tates to utter that which he thinks the highest truth, lest he should be too much in advance of the time, may reassure himself by looking at his acts from an impersonal point of view. . . . He, like every other man may properly consider himself as one of the myriad agencies through whom works the Unknown Cause ; and when the Unknown Cause produces in him a certain belief, he is thereby authorized to profess and act out that belief. " How this natural and well-nigh universal readiness to 1 Second edition, p. 123. 104 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT extend so far our confidence in the implications of the feel- ings of merit and demerit points toward a moral system of the universe, and toward the continuance beyond the visible into the invisible, and beyond the present life into the future life, of a system of rewards and punishments, it belongs to the later extensions of ethical theory, or to the philosophy of religion, to disclose. It is perfectly evident at this point, however, that a considerable development of ideas and judgments of the social order is indispensable in giving an account to ourselves of even the cruder and lower forms of such ethical feelings as these. The pleasant satisfaction which the feeling of merit affords, when its right is satisfied, is closely related to the mild pleasure of a gratified pride ; the dissatisfaction follow- ing the failure to be approbated by others, and " to be treated accordingly," is much more than an equivalent in its produc- tivity of pain. Here again the path along which duty leads, as marked out by the ethical feelings, is much less strewn with roses than with thorns. He who thinks to pay himself for doing what he ought in coin of merit will almost surely fail in the business. Indeed, one of those curious anomalies with which ethical study is full, is encountered here. It is as a rule, the meanest and least moral men who have the most lively satisfactions from the sense of their own merit, and who most intensely feel their right to a reward, for the occasional small, meritorious services they render their fellowmen. The feeling of demerit is doubtless to a certain extent a natural means of punishing past misdeeds and a motive to refrain from misdoing in the future. Occasionally this feeling acquires that sharp and pungent character which the word "remorse " is meant to signalize. In this form it may — but only rarely — give an adequate reason for the saying that the evil-doing, the sin, brings in the form of self-repro- bation its own self-punishment. But I am persuaded that OTHER ETHICAL FEELINGS 105 the intensity of this feeling, and the actual potency of its influence, are usually greatly exaggerated by the orthodox systems of ethics. The avenging furies, the demon of the remorseful conscience, the Erinnys, do indeed, appear in real life. It is only when they are the emissaries of those dre'ad, mysterious powers to which religious belief commits men, that they are potent for good through their appeal to the feeling of demerit. For the most part, otherwise, they are the relatively impotent constructs of the imagination of the poet or of the priest. These ethical feelings, in the course of attachments to certain judgments, detachments, and reattachments, which they follow are subject to the same conditions which have already been sufficiently described. Indeed, the entire development of the moral life requires us to understand how it is that ethical judgments arise, and become changed and modified so as to give rise in the mind of the individual and in the social structure to a system of moral principles; and thus to awaken the conception of a moral law and of an inalienable and unalterable nature for the Right. But I cannot proceed further in the effort to describe and explain the working of the emotional elements in moral conscious- ness, before taking into account the more distinctively intel- lectual and voluntary endowment of the moral life. CHAPTER YII ETHICAL JUDGMENT Since the time of Aristotle the relation in which man's intellectual equipment stands to his moral life has been quite customarily misunderstood by writers upon the philosophy of conduct. This great analyst of psychical states closes the first Book of the Nicomachean Ethics with a division of human " excellences " into the " intellectual " and the "moral;" "when we are speaking of a man's moral character {irepl Tov ^^ou?)," he says, "we do not say that he is wise or intelligent, but that he is gentle or temperate." In this, as one of his most recent commentators ^ declares, "Aristotle is founding the distinction between the Intellectual and the Moral which has lasted ever since." The same division is justified at the beginning of the second Book by several arguments which may, however, all be summarized as fol- lows : (1) the intellectual excellences are implanted in us by nature, the moral result from training and habit; (2) and, therefore, the latter alone stand in such a relation to the voluntary Self as that they are attributable to it and can properly be praised or blamed and rewarded or punished. No such distinction as that advanced by Aristotle, although it " has lasted ever since," can justify itself before the analysis of a thorough and consistent psychological ethics. The "intellectual excellences " — to continue the use of this phrase — are no more and no less natural than are those feelings and passions which constitute the " raw material " 1 Sir A. Grant, The Ethics of Aristotle, I, note to p. 476 f. ETHICAL JUDGMENT 107 of the " moral virtues ; " and the former are as much in need of training under the habit of right choice as are the latter, in order that the proper rules of conduct may be observed and the ideal of Selfhood progressively realized. This is implied by Aristotle's entire doctrine of moderation, or the observance of the " mean, " as entering into the very essence of every moral virtue. But it is especially important at the point now reached in our study of the philosophy of conduct to insist that only rational beings can be moral, and that the degree of rationality attained or attainable depends upon both the inherited intellectual endowment and the voluntary training of the intellectual powers. So obvious is this truth with reference to that task which morality sets before the human imagination whenever it is necessary to construct any kind of an Ideal, that nothing need be added to what has already been said upon this subject (see p. 64 f.). And the larger part of what will subsequently appear true in the dis- cussion of the Nature of the Right and of the Ultimate Moral Ideal will further illustrate and enforce this claim. In order to understand the nature of ethical judgment, how- ever, there are three respects in which man's rationality far surpasses the intellectual possibilities of the lower animals, that demand a more particular consideration at this point. These are his development of (1) Time-consciousness, of (2) Self-consciousness, and (3) his application of the Causal Principle to the synthetic construction of experience. A development of the consciousness of Time is a necessary part of man's equipment for the moral life. If the same sort of a continual flux of unorganized sensations, or the same shifting mechanism of fused and associated memory- images, which marks the limits of the animal's consciousness of time, were also all that man could attain, then the life of conduct and morality would be impossible for him. Indeed, such a succession of states cannot be said in themselves to form even the basis for an inchoate and undeveloped time- 108 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT consciousness. But man's recognitive memory is something different from this. As a developed faculty it brings into consciousness, in a way to influence the conduct of the pres- ent moment, a more remote and a more orderly past than is possible for the animal, — a past that is regarded as a real past in its relations to the conscious present. Undoubtedly, such a rational cognition of the past is a matter of varying degrees even among men of the same period; probably, if not undoubtedly also, it is a form of consciousness which has been rising in clearness and moral value in the develop- ment of the race. It is, at least in part, for this reason that reward or punishment, praise or blame, should follow quickly upon the good or bad deed in the case of children and savages ; while they are more fitly and effectively delib- erate and deferred in the case of civilized adults. So also, where the passions are hot and uncontrolled, and where memories are short-lived and speedily grow faint, the dis- tinctively ethical feelings will not bear to wait long for their satisfaction. In the case of the developed man the long stretches of time over which extend the feelings of merit or remorse, and the determination to reward or punish, are proof of his superior intellectual equipment for the moral life. By imagination, acting under the category of time, man predicts and anticipates the consequences of conduct, and its due rewards. It is a most astonishing mark of his intel- lectual excellence that he consciously directs his behavior with reference to that which is remotely situated in time. Thus he fears punishment from the descendants of the one he has injured, and he understands in some dim way the truth of Schiller's couplet : " This is the very curse of evil deed, That of new evil it becomes the seed." It is not the cultivated German poet alone who can reason thus. " One event is the son of another and we must never ETHICAL JUDGMENT 109 forget the parentage," said the Bechuana chief to Casalis, the African missionary ; ^ and in saying this he showed how- far beyond all merely animal development is the moral endowment of human savages. Human imagination creates a future Tartarus and Elysium ; it peoples them with gods whose attitude toward human conduct will endure relatively unchanged after men have forgotten their own past. It ministers to the belief in an eternity of consequences as flowing from what is done in the conscious present — a doctrine of Karma, an everlasting heaven and hell. But to punish or to reward, even five and ten years after the deed, the faulty or the good work of the draught-horse or of the hunting-dog, would be neither wise policy nor commendable morals; for the animal could neither perform the act of imagination necessary to anticipate the postponed punish- ment or reward, nor, when the pain or pleasure came, con- nect it by an act of memory with something done in the remote past as its occasion or cause. It is man's relatively high development of time-consciousness which imparts the needed continuity to morality and which makes possible a truly moral development — the life of conduct progressively approaching to, or withdrawing from, the Ideal. In what has just been said the development of Self- consciousness as a necessary postulate of ethical development is also implied. 2 It is to the moral Self that the feeling of obligation attaches ; it is from the inmost selfhood that the feelings of approbation and disapprobation seem to spring. Whose is the merit or the demerit of conduct, and whose "the right to be treated accordingly?" Undoubtedly, our answer to every such question must always involve some con- ception of the meaning properly belonging to the word " Self. " But this very conception is itself a subject of development, 1 See Tylor, Primitiye Culture, I, p. 4. ^ On the development of Time-consciousness and Self-consciousness, see the following works of the author : " Psychology, Descriptive and Explanatory," p. 495 f. and " Philosophy of Knowledge," p. 193 f. 110 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT having a markedly different content and a largely variable wealth of meaning, as it is formed by different individual intellects and by the reciprocal intellectual efforts of different communities of individuals in different periods and under different circumstances, in the life of the race. Thus the offending member of the child's bodily self is made to suffer for the vice or fault of the soul ; " an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth " is the proper rule for regulating the meas- ure and place of application for the demerit of him who has violated the rights of some other Self. The hand of the matricide must be cut off before he is executed ; castration is the fitting reward for the adulterer; eyes that have looked too curiously on forbidden objects must be put out ; and tongues that have been guilty of slander or betrayal deserve to be rooted out. Gross and vicious bodily selves will get roasted and tortured in the hereafter ; but equally gross yet virtuous selves (because " faithful " to their religion) will be feasted and indulged in the hereafter. As, however, the conception of the Self becomes more refined and spiritual, the entire nature of virtuous or vicious conduct, of righteousness and sin, together with the nature of the inducements to right conduct and of the rewards and punishments of conduct, undergo important modifications. Pure, spiritual selves do not crave to be feasted and indulged; and intellectually developed but wicked selves do not fear being roasted and otherwise tortured. But in all stages of the development of self-consciousness, it is the actual Self, set by thought and imagination into relations with other selves, and measured by the standard of an ideal Self, which determines the character of ethical theory and of the practical moral life. This is necessarily and unchangeably so ; for virtues and vices are qualifications, not of things or of actions as such, but of selves; and the distinctively ethical feelings are self-binding and self-appropriating. Inasmuch, therefore, as conduct is, essentially considered, ETHICAL JUDGMENT 111 a voluntary adjustment of one moral self to other moral selves through the media of things, the character of the prevalent self-knowledge influences essentially the wrong and right of conduct. In a word, only a being that is con- sciously a Moral Self can be at once the author and the subject of moral law, the appropriate, because rational object of approbation and disapprobation, and of reward and punish- ment, in the distinctively ethical meaning of these terms. That any being must be intellectually equipped with the power to pass from causes to effects and from effects to causes, in order to be capable of the moral life, scarcely needs argument. Indeed, without somehow raising and answering the questions. Whence ? and Why ? it is quite impossible to set forth in imagination the conceivability of a moral life. In saying this I do not intend to emphasize the fact that all the virtues connected with, and dependent upon, our human conceptions of truth are unintelligible apart from the domain ruled over by the so-called "principle of suffi- cient reason." Nor do I mean simply to assert that without rational knowledge of the consequences of conduct as affect- ing the interests of ourselves and others, no popular or scien- tific knowledge of ethical principles could possibly be attained. But still further, as will be shown in another connection, the relation between motive and deed of will is itself the most typical and immediately present example of the causal relation; and the experience of men with this relation is the precursor and the postulate of all their reasoning about external causes and effects, and about means and ends in the world of physical phenomena. Without that extended development of reasoning faculty under the control of this principle which belongs to man alone among the ani- mals, no conception of a moral law, or of a social unity which shall admit of the practice of virtuous and vicious forms of conduct, — much less of a universal moral order ex- tending itself over gods and men and over all spaces and all 112 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT times — could possibly dawn, rise, and grow clearer within the consciousness of humanity. In this, as in all the other intellectual endowments for the life of conduct and the acquirement of character, both the individual and the race come under the principle of development. That is to say, the clearness and effectiveness with which the causal principle is intellectually recognized and voluntarily applied admits of a great variety of degrees ; and, in fact, a great variety of such degrees marks the place in the scale of ethical evolution occupied by different persons and different portions of mankind. In the more elementary stages of culture little or no thought of rational and inevi- table connections manifests itself in moral consciousness; the Whence and the Why of conduct, of custom, and of the current ethical precepts are scarcely inquired after and not at all understood. In a later and somewhat higher stage the caprice of the gods, the command of some person superior in intelligence and authority, or the bare Will of the Omnipotent, is esteemed a sufficient answer to most of such inquiries. Still later those conceptions of Necessity and Law which convert the totality of human experience with the interaction of persons and things, and of persons with persons, into a colossal Sj^stem of physical and psychical mechanics, may for a time rule the thinking and satisfy the questionings of men. Such is perhaps the level of the thought and imag- ination reached by the majority of those who claim to be cultured at the present time. But I am confident that a yet more strenuous and comprehensive thinking and a loftier imagination inevitably produce and justify another picture of the connections of the moral World-Order. Such thinking and imagining enter inevitabl}^ and in an integrating way, into the moral life of the race by enlarging and improving the conceptions of the Moral Self as Will and as Reason, and by the growth of the conception of the Ground of all causal relations as an Absolute Self, ETHICAL JUDGMENT 113 The special application of all man's cognitive faculties to the interests of ethics always takes the form of an Ethical Judgment. In this respect ethical consciousness resembles all other conscious mental processes; for judgment is the distinctive and culminating thing in all human intellection. And general notions whether about conduct and principles of conduct or about other content of experience, are the results of, rather than the material for, the really effective acts of judgment. But judgment itself is a piece of con- duct; and, especially where it concerns the qualities of con- duct, judgment itself is either good or bad conduct. In its developed form it implies a certain affective and voluntary attitude of the Moral Self toward the conduct which is judged. No fact of experience is more instructive to the student of ethics than the pronouncing of judgment by his fellowmen I upon matters of right and wrong in conduct. He notes as important a remarkable difference in the character of their different ethical judgments, in the manner in which, in any considerable community, different matters of conduct are pronounced upon by the different members of the com- munity. But the most elementary analysis of the content of human consciousness has already made it apparent that one conception is strictly universal for all ethical judgments ; it is this which makes them ethical ; it is the character of the predicate. This is expressed by the significant words. Eight and Wrong, in the more definitively ethical use of these words. Let now an inquiry be made as to the grounds on which these different kinds of ethical judgments repose, and another series of somewhat confusing answers will be elicited. Some men will refer to unreasoned feeling; some to the prevalent custom ; some to self-interest or to the relation sus- tained by their judgment to the pursuit of their own well- being; some to the sanctions of religion, — the will of the 8 114 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT gods or the Holy Divine Will ; and some to reasons which lie either in the consequences of the actions judged, or in a certain conception of the nature of moral law, or even of the so-called abstract "Nature of the Right." What appears true of any particular community, when examined with respect to its present conditions of ethical judgment, seems also to be enforced and illustrated by the history of the evolution of ethical judgment in the whole race. The same difference of judgments about matters of conduct and of the reasons more or less intelligently ren- dered in answer to the questions, How ? and Why ? belongs to the great diversity of human institutions under all the changing conditions of man's development. Custom sets the general standard for such judgments; the rather is custom, subjectively considered, itself identical with the standard judgments. But a possible distinction is always to be noticed between the custom considered as embodying the mere fact of judgment and that judgment to which the reason and feeling of the individual find themselves bound to respond. And, in fact, actual divergences, at first on the part of a few individuals, are constantly arising and then gaining strength and numbers until both external custom and the system of moral judgments corresponding to the custom become largely modified or quite completely reversed. But all the while, as far back as man is man, and every- where that man is found, the predicate of all judgments about matters of conduct remains unchanged. The custom itself is subject to this predicate ; customs are liable to be judged as either right or wrong. Hence the outcries of reformers of custom, like that of Laotsu, are heard down the centuries to the remotest past : " Nowadays we despise love of humanity and are insolent; we despise economy and are wasteful ; we despise modesty and strive to surpass every one else. These ways lead to death. " Such phenomena as those just described demand investi- ETHICAL JUDGMENT 115 gation in the effort to obtain, if possible, some satisfactory answer to a series of questions. Of these questions the first which I shall raise may be stated as follows : What is the distinctive psychological nature of the judgments of men respecting matters of conduct ? The following three char- acteristics seem to afford, for the present, a sufficient answer to this question. Of these, the first has already been noticed; it is the character of their predicate. Persons and things, considered from every other point of view, have an indefinite number of qualities, which may be either affirmed or denied of every particular person or thing; but conduct has only one quality, when regarded from the ethical point of view. We may, indeed, be in doubt in any particular case which of the forms of this universal predicate, the positive or the negative, to apply; we may even be inclined to divide our judgment between the two poles, and to say " partly right and partly wrong;" and we certainly recognize an endless variety of degrees in our qualification of conduct. But if we judge on moral grounds alone, we can only affirm either right or not right for this matter of judgment. Thinking is either logical or illogical; speech is either correct or incorrect; judgment itself is either false or true; but all conduct is either right or wrong. Another psychological characteristic of all ethical judg- ment is its somewhat pronounced emotional character. Men do not ordinarily affirm, this is right or that is wrong, with the coolness with which they pronounce a familiar pro- position in geometry or in some matter of physical science. Judgments about matters of conduct are apt to have color, to be warmed or even to glow with feeling; and not infre- quently they excite the most intense passions or the most effective enthusiasms. The principal reasons for this char- acteristic of ethical judgment appear to be the two following : first, such acts of judgment usually have some connection with the more visible and palpable interests of men; and^ 116 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT second, they are, from their very nature, inseparably con- cerned with those moral feelings in which they either have their origin or to which they make a more or less immediate and forceful appeal. Hence, all the natural passions and emotions, — such as anger, fear, jealousy, pity, sympathy, love, and hate, — and all the higher ethical sentiments of moral obligation, approbation, and merit (or their oppo- sites), flow into the consciousness of the judge and prevent his judgment from being "cool" and strictly "scientific." Moreover, the common feeling and judgment of mankind, as well as the deductions of psychological ethics, support the opinion that it is fitly so. Ethical judgment ought to he formed under an influence from moral feeling; \t\^ reason- ably of a somewhat pronounced emotional character. It is doubtless true that men do, with no little intensity of emotion, debate questions of truth and falsehood, even of the abstract sort, when no human conduct can be supposed to have any possible influence upon the decision of the ques- tions, and when no decision of the questions can exercise any discernible influence upon their physical welfare. Indeed the fiercest quarrels and most pronounced enmities sometimes arise over such debate. No mathematics or physics is so pure, no metaphysics so remote from all prac- tical concernment, no scholastic hair-splitting so obviously unprofitable, as that its judgments may not be hotly con- tested. It may not be difficult to see why monophysites and orthodox should wish to kill each other, or why ecclesiasti- cism should find it necessary to persecute Copernicus or Galileo. But why should scholars fall out with one another over some philological punctilio, or over the nature of the infinitesimal in calculus, or over the possibility of an w*^ dimension of space ? The only credible answer to such ques- tions recognizes the characteristic quality of the ethical judgment. Men quarrel over their differing judgments, because they regard all truth as discoverable and statable ETHICAL JUDGMENT 117 only by an activity of mind which somehow itself partakes of the qualities of a piece of conduct. All human judgment is regarded as, at least potentially, a moral affair; it may he that voluntary deficiencies or vices in the Self account for the very manner of the mental seizure and pronouncement of the truth. And where this is suspected, " cool judgment " is not the appropriate attitude of the critical mind. Coolness of judgment is an intellectual excellence, a virtue, in the investigation of truth, — as well truth of conduct as other truth; but where the false, or imperfect, or dilatory judg- ment is itself a matter of bad conduct, there coolness of judgment with reference to it is not the normal and appro- priate condition for the human mind. The third psychological characteristic of ethical judgment is the peculiar relation which it sustains to the voluntary states. This relation follows, with a sort of necessity, from its emotional character. To judge about a matter of conduct is to establish a claim upon the will. For ethical judgment is not simply of something that is, or is not so in fact, or is, or is not true in principle ; it is a practical affair. Reason- ing about matters of ethics may, indeed, be logical or illogi- cal, — a pure theory, a play with the weapon of the syllogism, an exercise in polemics. But this is not the manner in which men usually discuss important problems of conduct; and when judgment is reached, even if its statement be in the most impersonal and abstract form possible, it is after all a judgment of something that some person ought to do, or to have done. If you helieve in the truth of the ethical judgment^ you are hound to carry your helief out into the voluntary life. Given opportunity, judgments respecting the right and wrong of conduct become convictions of duty. The idea of the Right has been shown to be the one ethical category. Our next question is, then, the following: — What is the psychological origin of this category ? How does this conception of Tightness arise in human conscious- 118 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT ness and come to take its place of supremacy among all the moral conceptions? The answer to such an inquiry as this is not difficult if the investigation is confined to the develop- ment of the conscious processes as this development takes place with every newly born individual in a community already organized upon a social and ethical basis. But the application of the principles of biological evolution to the problem of the origin of ethical judgment in the race only results in the same confusions which mark our inquiry into the rise and development of all the most universal and necessary notions of mankind. If the so-called "category," or' general notion of rightness be compared with the categories usually recognized as giving the forms according to which all human judgments must be shaped, certain differences, as well as certain resemblances will be discerned. It is desirable to examine these differ- ences and resemblances, at least in a preliminary way, because of the connection which this category has with the theoretical discussion of the Nature of the Right. What, then, that accords with facts of experience, is meant by calling the conception of "the Right" the one ethical category ? In answer to this question — first — one may refer to the already established fact of its universal and necessary character. However men may answer the ques- tion Why ? and whatever reasons they may allege as the ground of their answer, there is always this same moral qualification assigned to the conduct by the act of judgment : the category of Rightness (or its opposite) gives the universal form of ethical judgment. This same c@nception fixes also the necessary form of all ethical judgment; it is the rubric which must be employed by man in accordance with his moral nature, as now constituted in the evolution of the race. And as far back as we can trace the history of the evolution of morals among mankind, the same formal characteristic of all ethical judgment is to be traced. ETHICAL JUDGMENT 119 Nor can it be denied, in the second place, that an immense number of ethical judgments are passed by all men where the act of judging seems to amount to a sort of envisagement of the moral quality of the conduct judged. And when we include, as we must, the indulgence or the restraint of all the impulsive and emotional conscious states under the con- ception, we may perhaps claim that most of human conduct has its moral quality discerned in a quasi-intmtiYe way. Finally, however, this intuitive character of the ethical conception of Rightness is easily understood when we refer again to its psychological origin. It is the experience of ethical feeling (as already described, chapters v and vi) in its reaction upon the stimulus of the environment, which forms for the individual the earliest basis of the generalized notion of rightness. Certain forms of conduct, that is to say, are habitually accompanied or followed by the feelings of ethical obligation, approbation, and merit (or their opposites), and these determine the so-called right (or wrong) forms of conduct. The judgments which declare these experiences are, in their earlier form, like all judgments of the unde- veloped intellectual life, concrete and individual. They are judgments of the individual's experience ; and they appear in this intuitive form, because, in their origin, they are not the results of conscious processes of ratiocination, but of the prompt response of feeling and of its fusion with certain ideo-motor experiences. In multitudes of other cases, however, judgment is not, and cannot be, so intuitively pronounced. Elaborate proc- esses of reasoning fail to make perfectly clear whether the particular piece of conduct ought to be called right or wrong ; and this is even as true of inward states, of motives, and impulses, as it is of actions. But further discussion of this subject must be left for the more theoretical portion of our task. It becomes obvious, therefore, that in order to understand 120 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT the origin and character of ethical judgment we have yet other questions to raise and to answer. The individual man, who is the subject and the critic of conduct, the agent and the judge, is never merely an individual ; he is always and pre-eminently a member of the race, at a particular time and under especial circumstances in the evolution of the life of the race. None of the so-called " categories " — not even those of Space, Time, and Causation — escape important modifications under the influence of these all-embracing facts. Much less than the others can such a so-called cate- gory as that denominated "Rightness," which is in its origin and essential nature so pre-eminently social, fail to undergo important changes in the particular characteristics of its manifestation and its application. We are compelled, then, to ask : What is the historical origin of many of the ethical judgments of men ? To this inquiry I answer: They, too, are judgments of experience that have acquired the immediacy, certainty, and necessity, which they possess for the individual as a result of the prevalent historical conditions shaping the life of the race. Such judgments embody the conclusions reached upon a basis of interaction between the various members of the com- munity, and between the community as a whole and its physi- cal, social, and political environment. Of the principal sources for men's ethical judgments I now distinguish the following four. The established life and government of the family furnish many such judgments. In respect of no other equally important matter do we find the morals of men — the relations they enter into and sustain with good conscience and with the approbation of their fellows — so changeable as in respect of the customs and forms of the family life. Always and everywhere there are right and wrong relations recognized as possible, existing between husband and wife. But even where some sort of fidelity is rigidly exacted of the woman and some sort of pro- ETHICAL JUDGMENT 121 tective kindness is required of the man, in the most important matters affecting their relations the rules of good conduct toward each other are exceedingly variable. Thus the law of the family may enforce the husband's right to his wife by punishing adultery with death, but think it a duty for men to lend their wives to their guests, or to exchange them with their friends. Among some of the Arabian tribes the wife is required to remain true to her husband three days out of four ; but every fourth day it is right for her to do as she will. The Samoan father may properly resent the seduction of his daughter by one of the same tribe, but must esteem it right for him, as a host, to make a temporary loan of her. The most righteous of the Patriarchs, with good conscience and without divine rebuke, practised polygamy; and the sentiment of to-day, which approves of the penitentiary for the bigamist, regards it as a mark of its higher civilization that divorce is constantly made easier. As to the right limits of consanguinity between husband and wife the same diversity is found. The royal priests of ancient Egypt con- secrated the marriage of brothers and sisters; while the Church of England still refuses to consecrate a remarriage which is in not a few cases, the most rational possible, — viz., with the sister of one's deceased wife. As respects children and parents, in ancient Rome and in Old Japan the patria potestas was so construed as to make it right for the father to put to death his disobedient child ; and the same thing was expressly commanded to the Hebrews by the Mosaic Law. But now in large portions of the most refined communities, the use of physical force or physical pain to secure obedience in the family is deemed not only the height of unwisdom, but a kind of crime which discredits the moral character of the parent. Thus the most sincere and enlightened judgments which the individual approves have, many of them, their historical origin in the develop- ment of this institution on which the very existence and 122 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT continuance of the race depends. And the intuitive charac- ter which such judgments appear to possess must be explained historically as arising in the experience of the race. The codes of the different social classes, professions, busi- nesses, and organizations of every kind, furnish the individual with many unquestioned and unreasoned judgments upon matters of right and wrong conduct. In such spheres the aesthetically proper or fitting thing, and the morally right thing, are nearly if not quite identical. For example, some amount and sort of clothing is almost universally deemed necessary for adult human beings, and the wrong-doing of non-conformity to the custom here is generally, though not universally, regarded as a breach of the virtue of modesty. But quite as universal is the judgment that different sorts of persons ought to wear different sorts of clothing. The Fiji Chief submits to the painful process of tattooing, and the Englishman of the upper classes endures in August weather the torture of black coat and starched shirt and collar — both that they may appear as gentlemen of distinc- tion ought to appear. The priest or clergyman who dresses like the jockey or the flashy " tough " is, with warmth of conviction, blamed not only for his lack of good taste but also for an immoral overstepping of the customs of his class. If one set of critics considers it to argue a wicked disrespect for the dead not to give them an expensive funeral and also wear mourning garments for them; does not the other set consider it an equally wicked, because useless extravagance to conform to the custom in these regards ? And what can the good man do to avoid both these forms of wrong-doing better than quietly to conform to the ruling custom, while availing himself of Aristotle's principle of "moderation " ? But judgments as to the right and wrong in matters of clothing for different classes and different occasions are, from the higher and more strictly moral point of view, trivial compared with many other kinds of what I shall call ETHICAL JUDGMENT 128 the " classified " ethical judgment. " Honor among thieves " is no less honor, no less a virtue so far as it goes, because it is so limited in its application. To love one's neighbor and hate one's enemy, undoubtedly expresses the moral sentiment of one side of the Old-Testament morality. And to deceive or even to lie in war is not to-day regarded as a breach of essential morals by the great majority of Christian people, — while the same majority, hot as it is to resent cruelty and savagism when turned against itself, looks with tolerance, if not with approbation, upon its own cruel and savage treatment of so-called "inferior races." Among the mercantile classes, how few are they whose moral conscious- ness is at all sensitive to the customary false weights, false labels, and deceitful advertisements ? What would be the purifying effect upon our courts of justice, and upon our halls of legislation, if lawyers and politicians no longer made special exceptions for their class from the strictest demands of veracity and sincerity ? And as to social purity, only the grossest ignorance of facts can fail to appreciate the enor- mous difference which the highly civilized, as well as the grossly barbarous communities, make between what is right or wrong in the conduct of the " privileged classes " and the right and the wrong for " ordinary people. " In the wider circle of the laws, written or unwritten, and the general customs of the tribe, the state, the nation, lie the sources of many of the individual's spontaneous judg- ments. The very foundations of the political structure in all its forms would be shaken and quite undermined, if all keeping of the laws as obligatory upon the conscience of the citizen were left to discussion and to inference. The day has indeed gone by when the theory held by Hobbes as to the origin and nature of the Right can be successfully resuscitated. But there was a certain large measure of truth in this theory. No theory can define a priori just where the duty to accept the judgment of the ruling power, 124 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT when embodied in law or national custom, comes to an end ; and where the higher right of appeal to one's own moral consciousness begins. No amount of tact can always infal- libly detect this dividing line. But undoubtedly it is in general the duty of every individual unquestioningly to obey the law, and to conform to the custom of the land. This is true quite irrespective of the amount of self-government which belongs to the average citizen. Indeed, the anomalous thing about this land of America to-day, where the maxi- mum of self-government is supposed to have been reached, is the fact that the right and duty to make the laws have bred a feeling of right to break them; and that in no small number of cases, the law-makers are the chief law-breakers in every state and in the nation at large. Yet even this anomalous condition cannot contravene the yet more general fact that, on the average and in the long run, the individual does actually get his judgments as to matters of right and wrong, without much reasoning of his own — as it were, intuitively — from the laws in force and the customs current in the organized society of which he is a member. In the fourth place, the customs, precepts, and statutes of religion furnish a source of the spontaneous judgments of the individual in matters of conduct. Until morality and religion have become separated in a somewhat formal and crystallized way, no other source of those ethical judgments which seem most self-evident and obligatory is so powerful as religion. Judgments originating in this source penetrate all the other sources; ethical judgments pertaining to the life of the family, judgments of so-called "class morality," and the laws and most general customs of the whole people, are everywhere largely of religious origin. Nor is this coincidence in the sources of judgment on matters of morals and religion at all surprising when we consider how closely allied are the moral and religious natures in the one human nature. To treat the gods with disrespect, to attempt to ETHICAL JUDGMENT 125 deceive them, or to defraud them of their property or of their dues, is a particularly heinous and dangerous kind of wrong- doing among those communities that are lowest in the ethi- cal scale. In the relations of the sexes also, the priesthood or clergy are almost universally regarded as coming under special provisions respecting the right and wrong of conduct; although opinion may differ as to what is right, what wrong, all the way from the rule which makes it a sin for a priest even to look upon the face of a woman to the code in force among some of the Hindu castes, which considers it right for the Brahman to enjoy an almost unlimited license. Such license was conceded by the opinion of ancient Greece as right for the gods in their intercourse with men. In similar way elaborate ceremonial purifications become of the most obligatory moral character; and not to abstain from many desirable gratifications, because religion has rendered these tabu, is to outrage the moral law. In India almost the only moral restraint upon the conduct of the multitudes, a re- straint as powerful as it is spontaneously and unquestion- ingly accepted, consists of the code of religious ceremonial, belief, and superstition. The ten commandments which are an undisputed part of the creed of millions of twentieth- century men and women were originally due to a "thus saith the Lord, " understood to have been uttered to the founder of an ancient religion. For the great majority of men, all over the earth's surface and far back in the world's history, the one class of judgments respecting the right and wrong of conduct to which heart and reason alike has seemed most unhesitatingly and intuitively to respond comprises the customs, precepts, and statutes, that have had their origin in the religious experience of humanity. But with unreasoned ethical judgment the moral con- sciousness of men has not reached its highest intellectual development. Whatever of immediate self-evidence can be made out for certain instances in the application of the so- 126 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT called category of Rightness no more prevents the use of reflection and inference in forming judgments upon matters of conduct, or the growth of the moral code, than the intui- tive character of the category of space prevents the progress of geometry or of surveying. Without intellectual develop- ment on the part of the individual, neither ethical theory, nor systems of morals, nor essential morality, could exist or develop. It is to the men who doubt the essential morality of the prevalent custom, who question the rationality of the current ethical judgments, who insist on knowing the Why ? of conduct and character, that the race owes most for such ethical advances as it has already made. He who does not transcend the stage of intuitive feeling, or of unquestioning acceptance of the common judgment, remains a morally undeveloped man. As an historical fact all adult individuals, no matter how rigidly fixed the moral code may have become previous to their existence, and in spite of the most intolerant and oppressive reign of conventionality and custom, do take some part in the framing of the current and ruling judgments on questions of the right and wrong of conduct. He who, as a member of the commonwealth of ethical judgment, only aims to think and feel precisely as the others do, nevertheless becomes himself a moulder of the community's thought and feeling. His influence may seem quite inappreciable, but it is none the less real. In the case of those more independent minds who — as the popular saying runs — " think for them- selves," the ethical judgments made by the individual on a basis of conscious inference may not only determine the dominant maxims of his own moral life but in time even effect an important moral revolution in the judgments of the society of which he is only a single member. Undoubtedly, the clearness with which different men think out their conclusions on matters of conduct differs very greatly ; and as well, the character of the grounds on which ETHICAL JUDGMENT 127 they place their ethical judgments, the reasons they are ready to assign for the conclusions at which they have arrived. Hence the possibility of unlimited debate about what is right and wrong; hence also, in part, the doubtful character be- longing to all elaborate systems of casuistry. But this is only to call attention to the general psychological fact that, in matters of conduct as in all other matters, different per- sons have different degrees and combinations of the judging faculty, and different stores of experience on which to draw for the material of reasoning and its concluding judgment. Moreover, there is in ethics, both practical and theoretical, another most potent cause of difference; men differ as respects their entire conception of the aims and values of life, and as respects the character already acquired in the more or less intelligent pursuit of those aims, under the estimates of value assigned to each of them. In a word, the ethical judg- ments of different individuals, so far as they are based upon conscious inference, will depend in the main upon these three considerations: namely (1) natural or acquired power of forming judgment; (2) characteristic experience (the experi- ence which belongs to the individual) ; and (3) ideas of ends and of values, — while over all, and through all, the princi- ple of habit will assert its power. Of these three considerations only the last two admit of a brief treatment. The accumulation of experience is a growth of knowledge as to the relations of means and ends, and of causes and effects. But every man's conduct is his way of setting himself into the great system of means and ends, of causes and effects, — into the World-System. Every man's conduct is also, in some peculiar meaning of the words, his very own contribution to the total working and final outcome of this World-System. As the individual man acquires experience of what he can consciously and voluntarily effect he becomes increasingly capable of relatively indepen- dent and well-reasoned ethical judgment. His conduct is thus 128 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT an intelligent means to certain ends ; and the consequences of his conduct are effects which are attributable to his Self as to their cause. He becomes conscious, that is to say, of his Self as both effect and cause, both means and ends; and, in some degree, he learns precisely how the manifold desired relations are, in fact, to be secured. Thus the rightness or wrongness of the particular forms of conduct is made to depend upon a judgment whose grounds are to be found in the conscious experience of the judging mind. In all this, however, the supreme consideration is often — if not always — found in the estimate which is placed upon the value of the ends to be attained and, in a subsidiary way, of the means to be employed in their attainment. There is, indeed, a certain side of all human experience which goes a considerable way toward the seeming justification of Schopen- hauer's contention for a blind and purposeless f orthputting of Will, in the World at large and in the individual man. On the other hand, it is a most indubitable fact of experience that man, and especially developed man, does consciously pursue ends that have in his eyes higher or lower degrees of different kinds of value. And in the case of each individual, the character of these ideas of ends and of values determines his judgments upon matters of conduct and of character. It should not be necessary again at this point to remind ourselves that we are not now considering how to determine which of two contending ethical judgments is most trust- worthy; or which of the different aims or methods of evalu- ation is most justifiable in the light of the supreme moral Law or of the highest moral Ideal. Our present purpose is much more modest. It is simply to show how, in the development of ethical judgment, a higher or lower stage of quasi-inde- pendent reasoning is reached by every adult individual; and what is the efi'ect of this fact upon that use of human rational faculty which all morality and moral development implies. ETHICAL JUDGMENT 129 There are two important general assumptions to which one is brought by the psychological study of ethical judgment. First, man's intelligence is rightfully regarded as obligating him to its own use in planning and guiding his own conduct. Noblesse oblige, — and not less the nobility of rationality than the nobility of rank or birth. Thus the thought is led around again to a position which is in neighborly contiguity with the position from which the discussion of the nature of ethi- cal judgment took its departure: So-called "Conscience," as a matter of intellectual equipment for such judgment, is no whit different from so-called ordinary intelligence. But this " ordinary " intelligence is human intelligence ; it is man's intellect, in its full use, culminating in judgment as to the right and wrong of conduct. Moreover, this use of intelligence is itself either right or wrong — in the ethical meaning of these words ; for this use is a species of conduct. And the moral feelings of obligation, of approbation and dis- approbation, and of merit and demerit, have as much place, and as binding an authority, in respect of this, as of any other species of conduct. If we generalize this fact which, like a silent postulate, permeates all our estimates of the nature and value of ethical judgment, and bring our generalization into correspondence with that conclusion to which all our study of psychological ethics is pointing the way, we may anticipate the following conclusions. The intellectual proc- esses are, of course, essential to the existence of moral Selfhood; the noblest and best use of them is characteristic of the Ideal Self; and such a use is morally obligatory, necessarily to be approbated by moral consciousness, and to be considered meritorious ; for it is an essential part of the realization of the Ideal of a perfect Self existing in social relations with other selves. The second assumption involved in the doctrine of ethical judgment is this : Only through the exercise of intelligence does the so-called " motive '' pass over, as it were, into the 9 130 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT choice and into the deed. It is not motive alone, or judg- ment alone, or deliberate choice alone, whether followed or not by a successful executive action, to which the qualifica- tion of moral goodness or badness should be attached. It is rather to the total Self in action — Feeling, Intellect, and Will, in a living unity. Motives must, indeed, be judged morally; but they must also be more or less willed, in order to be really motives. Judgments, too, are motived and more or less subjected to volition. The highest expressions of will, the deliberate choices, are themselves the subject of both moral feeling and moral judgment. Good intentions alone are not the only moral good ; as Professor Dewey has well said: " The conceived results constitute the content of the act to he performed. They are not merely relevant to its morality, but are its moral quality." Therefore, I affirm without hesitation : A virtuous intellect is essential to a vir- tuous man. We are now in a position to understand the main features of the evolution of ethical judgment, both in the individual and in the race. This evolution follows the same laws which control man's total development of intelligence. In a certain somewhat loose way, three stages may be distinguished. In the earliest stage, it is feeling largely, if not almost wholly, which determines the judgment; in this stage, the judgment is scarcely more than a declaration of the fact of feeling. Children and childish men think little as to the reasons why they feel and therefore judge as they do ; they know almost nothing of the influences which are operative upon their own minds, whether these causes belong to the original constitu- tion of human nature or are themselves the result of the previous experiences of the race. In a word, amongst savages as amongst the children of civilized communities, judgments about the right and wrong of conduct arise in blind, instinc- tive feelings. If we could get very near to the so-called primitive man, we should undoubtedly find him yet more a J ETHICAL JUDGMENT 131 creature and a subject of feeling. We should find him — if as jet man^ however primitive — moved by passions and emotions to do certain things which the sentiments of obli- gation and of ethical and sesthetical admiration and approba- tion were moving him not to do. We should find him in this strange conflict of feeling, this schism between the lower and the higher Self; but the schism would not be compre- hended; nor would the grounds be recognized on which the authority of the higher moral consciousness was reposed. The second stage in the evolution of ethical judgment is reached whenever experience of the effects of conduct has embodied itself in certain more or less fixed customs, or in the form of moral maxims, precepts, and regulations, or in the shape of something resembling a code of conduct defining what is to be esteemed right, what wrong, by the community. But even at this stage the multitude of individuals in their private ethical judgments only echo and reiterate, as they for the most part unquestioningly accept, the generalizations reached in some form by the generations of their predeces- sors in the moral life. In this stage, whenever the attempt is made to give reasons for any particular judgment, such an attempt ends in a reference to the fact, as bare fact, of the conclusions already accepted by the majority. Thus most of the current " reasoning " on moral matters might be sum- marized in the one major premise for the standard ethical syllogisms: It is right to follow the custom; doing right is doing as the ancients have done and as people generally do now. But even this stage in the evolution of ethical judgment cannot come into existence, much less long continue to exist, without certain individuals at least making considerable advances into a third and higher stage. In this third stage, the science and philosophy of conduct become, to some extent, the interest and the attainment of the multitude of individuals of whom society consists. 132 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT The history of ethical evolution by no means, of course, warrants us in making a clean-cut separation between these different stages of man's ethical progress. Other factors and laws than those which are distinctly intellectual take part in this evolution. No community at any time can be regarded as stationary in either one of these three stages, to the exclu- sion of all examples of the other stages. Amongst the lowest savages are found some who, more than others, think for themselves touching matters of conduct; amongst the most highly cultured ethically, the majority, for most of their ethical judgments, trust to unreasoned feeling or accept the conclusions handed down from preceding generations. And it is well that it is so. For thus the " cake of custom " is formed ; only thus could enough of uniformity be secured to constitute a safe and true social environment such as is the necessary presupposition of any ethical life or ethical development. But all the while the race — or at the least, that portion of it which is undergoing a real moral evolution — is learning more and more how to make up its mind, on the ground of an enlarging experience and by use of its improved powers of ratiocination, regarding the right and wrong of conduct. A progress in ethical enlightenment is certainly taking place with this portion of mankind; but whether this portion, or the whole of mankind, is growing better in disposition and in will in proportion to its increased enlightenment — why, this is another and a distinctly broader and more difficult question. CHAPTER YIII MORAL FREEDOM In the preliminary analysis of the content of moral con- sciousness it was found that some degree at least of self- control, superior to that possessed by the lower animals, is necessary to man's equipment for the moral life and for the development of character. The sphere of ethics is the sphere of conduct and character. But conduct and character imply choice — of one deed rather than another, of one course of action in preference to some other; and in their highest manifestation, the choice of an end, an ideal that shall largely subordinate and control the entire life. Hence the continued necessity for ethics of a discussion of the nature and extent of man's moral freedom. By ''moral freedom " I mean such a kind and amount of self-control as belongs, both in fact and in accordance with the demands of a sound ethical theory, to man's moral life and moral development. It would manifestly be impossible, however, to bring the whole range of psychological and metaphysical problems which form important parts of this ethical problem ^ within the reasonable limits of a treatise on the philosophy of con- duct. To psychology appertains the description and, so far as possible, explanation of the phenomena of the voluntary nature of man. To metaphysics one might properly wish to 1 For a fuller discussion of these problems the reader must be referred to the other works of the author, especially to Psychology, Descriptive and Explana- tory, chap. V, xi, xxi, xxvi ; A Theory of Reality, chap, iii, vii, x, xiii, xix ; Philosophy of Knowledge, chap, x, xivj and Philosophy of Mind, chap, ir, vii, viii, xii. 134 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT relegate the discussion of the nature of Causation, in both the physical and the psychical fields; of the conceptions of Necessity, of Law, of the Indeterminate, and of the real Relations which exist between the different psychoses, or between the Body and the Mind of man; and, finally, the speculative treatment of the Absolute, the Infinite, etc., and of its relations to the Relative and the Finite. But how can ethics wait for psychology and metaphysics to solve all these complicated and profoundly difficult problems ? This entanglement of the problem of man's moral freedom with so many psychological and metaphysical problems has given occasion for certain intolerable attitudes toward the task of ethical philosophy. Against two such attitudes I wish to make an especially earnest protest at this point. The one is the attitude of indifference or of contemptuous dissatisfaction with all proposals for renewed discussion of so insolvable a problem. The other is the attitude of satisfac- tion and " cock-sure-ness " that the matter has at last been definitely settled in the interests of a so-called strictly scien- tific conception of human nature and of its ethical, as well as of all its other development. It is difficult to say which of these two attitudes is theoretically the more unwarrantable and practically the more mischievous; it is certain that both of them should be challenged and criticised by every student of the philosophy of conduct. Ethics can never cease to be profoundly and vitally inter- ested in the discussion of the problem of moral freedom ; for this problem, like a banyan tree, although it affords friendly shelter or deadly shade for all sorts of common folk, sends its many branches down to take roots in the dark and hidden places whence comes its own life, and all Life. It is true that the problem has been attacked over and over again by minds of the keenest analytic powers, and left, after the attack, in nearly the same impregnable condition as before. It is also true that the several factors of the problem, the MORAL FREEDOM * 135 different considerations mainly influencing the manner of its discussion, and the different forms given to its solution have customarily been thrown into the shape of fundamentally irreconcilable conceptions and conclusions. It has thus been left honeycombed with so-called "antinomies." And perpetually recurring antinomies inevitably bring about an attitude of discouragement or even of disgust toward the problems which are expressed in this fashion. Now I have elsewhere ^ discussed in detail the subject of "alleged antinomies." What was there concluded as to such interesting products of ingenious dialectics in general is emphatically true of the hitherto current ethical anti- nomies. Asa rule, they are not contradictions inherent in reason at all. "They are, rather, spurious contradictions which can always be got up when abstract conceptions of more or less doubtful empirical origin and of perverted or mutilated construction are hypostasized and brought into relations that are themselves either fictitious or abstracted inconsiderately from the relations of real individual things." Such contradictions, that is to say, are not found actually existent or implied, either in the world of things or in the constitution of human reason, or between the world of things and the reason of man ; they are the constructs of imperfect or self-deceived logical processes. The cure for such anti- nomies is neither indifference, nor contempt of thinking, nor despair of their removal. The cure for them is a more thorough, unprejudiced, and profound criticism of the con- ceptions involved. All this is true whether these antithetic conceptions are evolved by the plain man's thinking, or by the profound but perverse analysis of Kant, or by the brilliant and subtle but fallacious dialectics of Dean Mansel or Mr. Bradley. Limits of our knowledge may well enough, — nay ! must of course be recognized; although they must not be too hastily fixed by the method of dialectics. In respect of 1 Philosophy of Knowledge, chap. xiv. 136 . PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT the nature of moral freedom, and the relations to the World and to God in which man is placed bj the possession or the development of such freedom, there is doubtless much which the human mind does not understand. Probably there is much which never will be understood. But no one adequately acquainted with the history of the philosophy of conduct can assume that the conceptions involved in the phrase " Moral Freedom " have all received the criticism necessary to say the last words upon so involved a subject. Nor can the student of ethics admit that theory here is of no great practical importance. Mr. Sidgvvick,^ in his calm and measured way, undertakes to "dispel any lingering doubts ... as to the practical unimportance of the Free Will controversy." But, in his own discussion, he con- stantly confuses the question of the immediate practical results of Determinism with the question of the possibility of reconciling the theory of Determinism with the demands of practical reason, — that is, with the rationality of moral consciousness. But practical results of this sort are scarcely to be determined by a priori processes of reasoning; and there are two very potent influences at work which make it difficult or impossible to tell what the practical results would be of having no opinions, or at least convictions, respecting the questions in debate between the Determinist and the Libertarian. One of these influences consists in the patent fact that scientific Determinism is an almost purely scholastic theory; and while the multitudes of men are perfectly well aware of, and constantly take account of, the facts on which the deterministic theory relies, they do not interpret these facts in terms of this theory. Therefore, imtil its advocates have managed thoroughly to convince the multitude of its truthfulness, we can never know by experience what would be the practical results of the uni- versal adoption of this theory. There is absolutely no 1 The Methods of Ethics, book I, chap, v f. MOKAL FREEDOM 137 chance of ever converting the multitudes to a scientific Determinism. Fatalism is, however, a religious doctrine — generally accepted among millions of men; its practical results may be subjected to observation, and there cannot be much doubt about their baleful character. The second cause of the difficulty of putting the fruits of the deterministic theory to a test of experience is that they who advocate it most strenuously as a scholastic tenet, as a rule, give it less scope in a practical way over their own conduct than do even the multitude of thoughtless men and women. For they who urge the speculative tenet, that all conduct is strictly determined, practise as though they were, what they really are, as free as the gods themselves. By constitution, by education, by circumstances, they are the highest specimens of responsible moral freedom. But to pursue the inquiry further in this direction would be to employ a rather unserviceable argumentum ad hominem. To say here in one word what will come up for notice sub- sequently : — those men who act as though they were " free " from all restraints of moral law or influences from their fel- low-men, and those others who regard themselves as " slaves, " strictly determined by either their own impulses and passions or by external influences, are ordinarily both alike bad and immoral. Both classes are customarily so regarded by the enlightened critic of conduct. They constitute, on the one hand, the gifted, high-born, and interesting rogues, and, on the other hand, the low-bred and often disgusting rogues, of human kind ; — rogues are they both apt to be, and in such manner that license and slavery seem to meet in characters that practise according to either extreme of theory. The attitude of undisturbed satisfaction toward any new proposal to discuss the problem of moral freedom is widely prevalent amongst present-day writers on ethics. It is vir- tually the assumption that further discussion is needless be- cause, in sooth, the whole problem has been once for all 138 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT definitively settled. Less speed and assurance would be not only practically helpful but more genuinely scientific here. To be sure we have writers — like Riehl,^ for example — who boldly assert that freedom is an '' illusion" comparable to the illusion of the sun moving round the earth ; and that "Morality is the cognitive ground of Determinism, while Determinism is the real ground of Morality. " But to such offhand assertions the counter claim of Caspari,^ for example, is good enough as an answer; for Caspari claims with far more reason, that the phenomena on which Determinism depends are Sehein-Phenomena, or illusions. Then there is the declaration of psychologists like Hoffding:^ "Psy- chology, like every other science, must be deterministic; that is to say, it must start from the assumption that the causal law holds good even in the life of the will, just as this law is assumed to be valid for the remaining conscious life and for material nature. " But, as I have ventured to say else- where : * " Such an assertion as this may properly be met with the flattest kind of a denial. Psychology has absolutely no right to make any such assumption. " Nor need the advocate of moral freedom retreat before the encounter takes place through fear of such theories as that of M. Luys ^ who re- gards all psychoses, including volitions and choices, as determined by the brain which dictates them to the con- scious mind by a species of incomprehensible jugglery. Neither a metaphysical, nor a psychological, nor a psycho- physical theory of the will is to be enforced or even made relatively acceptable by any such rash and wholesale state- ments as the foregoing. No student of ethics need hesitate boldly to call in question the somewhat too overbearing temper and self-confident tone of this current Determinism. 1 Philosophischer Kriticismus (edition of 1876), II, ii, chap. 3, 219 f. 2 Grundprobleme der Erkenntniss-Thatigkeit II, p. 131 f. 8 Outlines of Psychology, p. 345 f. * Psychology, Descriptive and Explanatory, p. 627. 5 The Brain and its Functions, passim. MORAL FREEDOM 139 In a word, although the world is old and the problem of so-called "free will" has often been examined, and always been found full of difficulties and dangers of misconception and of practical import, there is, possibly, still more light to be thrown upon it. At any rate, there is absolutely nothing in the most recent discoveries, either of psychological or of physical science, which compels one to regard the deter- ministic solution as the only valid and scientific answer to the problem. Within the limits of the present treatise the best course to follow in discussing the nature and development of moral freedom is, I think, the following: first, to recognize certain truths of fact emphasized by both the deterministic and the libertarian positions, and to criticise the views held by both these positions, when pressed to an extreme; second, to display briefly those principal data of moral consciousness on which an acceptable theory of moral freedom must be based ; third, to examine the chief objections which may be brought against the theory; and, finally, to summarize the entire problem and harmonize, so far as possible, the con- flicting elements and the subordinate conclusions. Of preliminary considerations the following seem to me the most important. In the first place, the actuality must be admitted of certain relations between the successive states of the Self, and between each of those states and the bodily organism, as well as through this organism between the Self and the changing conditions of external things. Such rela- tions are to be found at the very base of human experience ; they are necessary to the very constitution of any experience whatever. It may be said, the rather, that in these relations and in their effects upon the Self, experience itself largely consists. Different words are indeed employed by naive common-sense or by psychological, psycho-physical, and metaphysical theories, to express these relations. Among such words are the following: "cause," "occasion," "in- 140 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT duce," "influence," or even "make" and "compel." We " account for " one state or process of consciousness by refer- ring to another preceding state or process; we refer, for example, our present choice or intention to the desire of attaining some coveted end. Men continually inquire as to the motives of deeds, the reasons and explanations of courses of conduct. They apply similar language to the relations in which they believe themselves as conscious existences to stand to the conditions of their own bodily organism; it is the arm or the tooth that makes one smart with pain ; it is the condition of the eye or ear which determines whether one shall see or hear, well or ill. In all his social and civil relations man believes in the applicability of similar terms to describe what those relations are, and also how the experience of the individual is dependent upon the actuality of those relations. Society exists at all only on the postulate that human beings influence or affect each other, and that they are in their collective action and development influenced or affected by a great variety of external conditions. Upon such facts as these Determinism bases its theory ; and in discussing the problem of moral freedom no such sophistical procedure with these facts as converts them into merely Schein-Phenomena can be adopted. Nor can the terms in use among men be interpreted by a scientific ethics otherwise than as bearing witness to the actuality of the relations which they signify. To interpret them, and not to deny or sophis- ticate them, is the task of the philosophy of conduct. But, on the other hand, the actuality must also be admitted of certain relations between the Self regarded as emotional and impulsive and the Self regarded as willing and choosing, and also between the Self and its own choices ; and experi- ence forbids our interpreting the foregoing words, when applied to these relations, strictly after the analogy of any relations which can exist between things and things, or between things and their own states. Upon this point the MORAL FREEDOM 141 opinions and language of men, as well as their practice, are as clear as they are upon the point just preceding. The univer- sal tendency of the untutored man is to conceive of the rela- tions between things and things, and between things and his own states, pretty strictly after the analogy of his own experi- ence with himself as influenced by motives to choose or to avoid certain ends. This doctrine of Animism, with its language and practices, is all the more significant because, as says Tylor,^ "the conjunction of ethics and Animistic philosophy, so intimate and powerful in the higher culture, seems scarcely yet to have begun in the lower." For the tendency shows how permanent and universal is the naive conviction that the real relation between the man and his choices, or the man's choices and the man's desires, is not one to be expressed in terms analogous to a physical neces- sity. A similar anthropomorphism belongs to all stages of human development. Indeed, as 1 have elsewhere shown,^ the modern scientific view of the Universe as a strictly ordered and uniform system of causal connections, is no less anthropomorphic than is the Animism of the savages. It has the advantage of projecting into things, for the explana- tion of man's experience with them, the higher as well as — or instead of — the lower factors of man's cognition of the characteristics of selfhood. But modern science can validate its anthropomorphism only if it admits the postulate that Causation, or Influence, and Necessity, Contingency, and Law, mean something different when applied to man's ex- perience with himself and to his experience with physical things. In this connection I will cite the sentence with which the author quoted above closes his discussion of the phenomena of Animism by bidding us " consider how the introduction of the moral element separates the religions of the world, 1 Primitive Culture, I, p. 427. 2 A Theory of Reality {passim, and especially, chap, x, xvi, xviii). 142 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT united as they are throughout by one animistic principle, into two great classes, those lower systems whose best result is to supply a crude childlike natural philosophy, and those higher faiths which implant on this the law of righteousness and of holiness, the inspiration of duty and of love." i That is to say, the growth of culture and the development of morals does not destroy what is true in the one pervasive "animistic principle;" the One Life which manifests Itself in all beings is assumed to be both the Ground of a necessi- tated connection between Things and of a development of such moral freedom in Selves as makes possible a keeping of the "law of righteousness and of holiness, the inspiration " (not mechanical causation) "of duty and of love." Of course, the language and conduct of men must be sympa- thetically and profoundly interpreted in order to find in them so much of superior privilege and of opportunity. But the most superficial interpretation shows that the universal type of psychical relations is not derived from man's experience with a merely physical mechanism. The inevitable necessity of combining in one's conception of moral freedom the two preceding somewhat antithetical considerations leads the mind directly to a third important truth. We may state the antithesis — which is after all more verbal than real — in either one of several ways. The Self is indeed influenced in its choices by its own desires and passions; but it is not thus compelled in the same way as that in which the action of one thing compels the action of another thing. Sometimes, and in certain pitiful cases almost or quite habitually, the Self is so strongly influenced, so overborne, as it were, in its consideration of all motives to pause or to resist, that men accept some such description of its action as the following: "I could not help it;" or "The temptation was too strong and sudden, was greater than I could resist. " When asked : — Why did you choose 1 Tylor, ibid., ii, p. 361. MORAL FREEDOM 143 thus and so ? or, Why was your conduct so blameworthy, or impolitic ? the answer sometimes is : " This passion or impulse mastered me; this consideration compelled me to act." And yet rarely does the explanation, taken at all literally, seem either to the one who makes, or to the one who receives it, quite satisfactory or quite complete. The untutored moral consciousness, the crude and swift justice of the savage, takes little or no account of excuses such as these. And the suspicion that the offender against the law or the custom is lying, when he pleads the excuse of a causal and necessitated connection between his motive and his deed, is likely to make the retribution no less crude and swift. It is only the refined moral consciousness which modifies its feelings of reprobation and demerit, and substi- tutes somewhat of indulgent pity and compassion in their stead. Now from such mixed and conflicting experiences as these it follows at once that moral freedom must be considered as a matter admitting of degrees, and as itself capable of develop- ment. In a word, human beings are not born free morally ; neither do all men possess at any time, nor does any indi- vidual man possess at all times, equal degrees of moral free- dom. The rather is such freedom to be spoken of as an acquisition, dependent upon repeated exercise of the so-called power of choice, under the principle of habit. Growth in moral freedom is the development of the Self's capacity for making choices. It is also manifest at once, in the fourth place, that this " capacity of the Self for making choices " cannot be con- sidered as the function of any one faculty or set of faculties. The possession of any degree of moral freedom, and the development of its higher and more significant degrees, are dependent in all cases upon the possession and development of all the faculties which go to make up man's moral nature. The problem of ethics is therefore not decided, 144 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT it is not even properly stated, when only the facts that con- cern the purely voluntary aspect of consciousness are consid- ered. Neither mere arbitrariness of will, nor machine-like and necessitated action of will, can constitute the basis of a truly moral freedom. For, indeed, the problem includes much more than this. Choices to follow the ideal forms of that which is esteemed morally good cannot be made by a mere fiat of will, whether wholly unmotived or strictly determined ; the presence in consciousness of such ideals and the conscious evaluation of them from the moral point of view is necessary to their choice. I cannot will to adhere to my feeling of obligation rather than yield to my passion or desire, unless I have such feeling of obligation ; nor can I choose that course of conduct which 1 judge to be right unless I am capable of a judgment which shall bring the conduct under the category of the right. And without the powerful influence from the feelings of moral approval and merit (and their opposites) it cannot be contended that men would ever attain to a genuine moral freedom. It is in the neglect of these considerations that some of the antinomies which are forced into the problem of a so-called freedom of the will have their origin. "Free- dom of the will " is, I think, a term which would better be abandoned by ethics. Moral freedom for the human Self ; — what is it in fact, and essentially, in spite of its many degrees of intensity, so to say, and its different forms of manifestation ? This is the primary ethical question. And has moral freedom in fact such a character that, before the same moral conscious- ness which is its own most severe and, when well cultivated, intelligent critic, we may justify the conclusion that the present social system has in it at least the seeds of rationality? Certain facts of indubitable experience exist, on the basis of which may be formed our conception of the nature of man's choices, and of the part which they play in the moral life and moral development. But even these facts lose all their highest value and most of their significance, when we attempt to MORAL FREEDOM 145 regard them as separable from the development of human life, in the individual and in the race. One word more of preliminary cautioning seems desirable. This has reference to the chief fallacy in discussing this prob- lem which affects those metaphysically inclined. The fallacy is that of mistaking conceptions for entities, functions for realities, relations for pre-existent and effective causes. In a word, it is the fallacy of hypostasizing. For example," Law " never does anything, or accounts for anything, — no matter how imposing the capital with which one spells the word. " Necessity " creates no real bond ; and " Chance " and " Contingency " — whether whispered with bated breath by the frightened worshipper of the great modern World- Machine, or boldly proclaimed by the avowed enemy of such a monstrosity — can no more injure the existing arrangement of things than the most inevitable Fate can conserve this arrangement by preventing man's interference with it all. Ghosts of abstractions, whether theological or scientific, whether redolent with the smell of the tombs in which they should have been buried ages ago, or emitting whiffs of the latest patent embalming fluid, can effect neither good nor harm outside of the mind of man. And when one is solemnly told that the Law of Causation forbids this or compels the other; that human Self-determination would destroy the integrity of the physical Universe ; or that the Conservation and Correlation of Energy does not admit of influences •' passing over," etc., from the physical to the psychical realm, one may always demand a re-examination of the warrant in facts for such sweeping use of ideas whose whole force is only that of the highest potency of logical generalization. What now are those facts of a well-nigh if not quite universal human experience, from which flows the conception of a real moral freedom for man, and to which this conception must be referred in the effort to determine more critically its rational import? These facts may be divided between two related 10 146 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT but not identical forms of consciousness. They may be called the consciousness of ability and the consciousness of imputability, or the consciousness of the Self as active and the consciousness of the Self as responsible. As these facts appear in the stream of the individual's conscious life, and as they become data for the conception of man's moral freedom, they are expressed by such language as the following : '' I can," and " I know that I can ; " and because " I ought to have (or I ought not to have), I am worthy of approval (or of disap- proval), and of merit (or of demerit)." In the one case, the Self contemplates itself as in the presence of its own deed and affirms that the choice to do, or not to do, in spite of all internal and external influence, is, nevertheless its very own. J make my choice ; and the "I" that chooses is not simply the being that was yesterday, or even a moment since ; the rather is it the living, present, here-and-now-being of the Self. In the other case the Self contemplates its ow^n deed as already done, and affirms that this deed of choice together with a certain greater or less amount of the consequences following from the deed, belongs to itself ; and, in consequence, so does also the blame or praise, the reward or punishment. I did this thing, for it was my choice ; and my living, present Self doth reasonably assume as its own the moral predica- ments of its own choosing. Such, I maintain are the facts of human experience, when this experience reaches that stage of development which affords the clearest and most trust- worthy data for a conception of moral freedom. But with inferior degrees the same experience manifests itself as an almost ceaseless accompaniment of, and a substantial factor in, the unfolding of the moral life. Let us now examine somewhat more carefully these two classes of general facts belonging to man's ethical consciousness. The general fact of self-activity, culminating in that highest form of such activity which is intelligent and deliberate choice, when taken — as it always should be — in connection MORAL FREEDOM 147 with the equally general fact of limitations and inhibitions to this activity, is expressed in such language as " I can," or " I cannot." This form of language is appropriate before the choice is made. After the choice, the appropriate declaration is " I could have," or " I could not have " — done otherwise (" helped " it, or not, etc.). The psychological analysis of the origins and development of those complex conscious condi- tions which give the warrant to these forms of expression shows that the conditions themselves are continually present in human consciousness, and belong essentially to the rise and evolution of the very conception of a moral Self, To prove this we have only to evoke the aid of a descriptive psychol- ogy which is faithful to the facts. In the infantile consciousness there is neither knowledge of the Self as a doer, nor of other selves and things as external existences that excite desire and solicit or impel the will. But there is that mixture of sensations and feelings which stimulates the discriminating consciousness to master its environment both intellectually and practically, and which is of such a character as to compel the distinction between the Ego as active and the same Ego as passive, and so between the Self and the not-Self or other things. In the one ever- flowing and shifting stream of conscious states there are changes which accentuate and define the conception of our- selves as agents ; and there are other changes which accentu- ate and define the conceptions of things not ourselves by which our agency is limited, and by which we are made to suffer by being acted upon. This is no occasional expe- rience for any man. This is the universal and necessary characteristic of all experience. Under the conditions of most supreme activity we are self-active only in a limited way ; we are also solicited or deterred, impelled or inhibited — somehow made passive — by the actions of other persons and other things. On the other hand, in our most abject submis- sions, in our most supine yieldings, we are often, if not gen- 148 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT erally or universally, conscious of a certain measure of self-activity — of a resistance, which indicates the retention of at least a minimum of that inherent right and power of seZf-control which belongs to the very nature of man. When I suffer pain, after all it is I that, having borne up Qsuh fero) against it, now give way ; and in the very giving way, I may assert my will not to have it so. And if the total yielding happens to be an affair of ethical concernment; if I have yielded because I felt I could no longer suffer for righteous- ness' sake ; then — my conscience being well trained and still sensitive — I may feel most keenly that, after all, I really could have borne more ; I was not wholly passive in being over- borne. The ideal of a truly moral being is the conception of a Will which under certain circumstances, cannot be made to choose to do certain things by any amount of conceivable suffering. The belief of mankind that human wills can by their ac- tivity modify the otherwise extreme conditions of passivity, is proved by their language, their judgments, and their be- havior. ''Do not mind it, and it will not hurt you (at all, or so much) " — this is what nurses and mothers tell their chil- dren. " You shall learn to bear up against that pain in the interests of some practical ideal" — this is the moral maxim which is fundamental with the North American Indian, as well as with that Christian tutelage out of which the martyrs came. Even the claim, " I cannot help it," or " I cannot do this," has no meaning unless it be interpreted in the light of contrast with the consciousness of power to do. The con- sciousness of potency is the indispensable postulate of the consciousness of impotency ; " cannot " has no meaning ex- cept as the foil of " I can." ^ Neither past nor current theories of the physiological basis 1 For a full discussion of the beginnings and development of this conscious- ness, see the author's Psychology, Descriptiye and Explanatory, chap, xi and MORAL FREEDOM 149 or of the psycho-physical connections of this consciousness of self-activity should be allowed in the least to modify our statements of the fundamental facts of experience, or to blur the conception of the import of these facts in their bearing upon the doctrine of moral freedom. That this feeling of self-activity, psychologically considered, cannot be wholly re- solved into feelings of peripheral tension and strain, etc., I have elsewhere shown to be true. It is in these feelings that men have, the rather, the grounds in experience for the con- ception of an activity that is limited and checked. But the feeling of being active is not, as a mode of consciousness at least, the feeling simply of being inhibited in activity. I will, with difficulty^ indeed ; but the fact expressed by the words " with difficulty " is not the whole of the fact. As far as available data exist for a scientific conclusion, it appears that the physiological functions with which these feelings of self -activity are correlated are not of peripheral origin. They are not modifications of the brain's states which arise wholly in areas of tense muscles, joints set together, skin stretched tight, teeth grinding on one another, fists clenched, etc. The nervous correlate of these feelings is rather that ongoing chemico-physical life which belongs to the central organs, to the controlling centres of the cerebro- spinal and sympathetic systems, and, through these systems, of all those bodily functions with which consciousness has, either directly or indirectly, anything to do. If this is so, — and, indeed, whether it be so or not, — the nature of the connec- tion between the brain-states and the states of a conscious self-activity is of so indeterminate and metaphysical a char- acter that it should not be allowed to influence our pre- liminary judgment as to the character and import of the conscious facts. More sure than all theories of idealism, of materialism, or of psycho-physical parallelism, stands the indisputable and important datum of human consciousness. With varying degrees of extension and intensity, however 150 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT limited and checked by causes external or influences arising within, man carries with him an immediate awareness of his own potency. He expresses his inmost experience by saying " I can^^ although it may be with pain and difficulty, or even with doubt as to whether, after all, this potency will endure beyond a certain somewhat indefinite amount of strain. The supreme exhibition of man's self-activity is given in the phenomenon of intelligent and deliberate choice. The wonderful and unique characteristics which this phenomenon may attain have been quite too little insisted upon in modern discussions of moral freedom. The consciousness of motives, the estimate of values, the appreciation of ends, have too often been converted into gwasZ-mechanical processes, whose effect in consciousness has been conceived of after the analogy of the action upon each other of the parts of a physical mechan- ism. But Aristotle long ago saw that intelligent deliberation guarantees, and itself is, the highest form of moral freedom. " When we say, this is chosen or purposed, we mean that it has been selected after deliberation." ^ An intelligent and deliberate choice is the very opposite of an impulsive or im- pelled deed of will. The Self choosing, after deliberation, is the Self determining and not determined. Even to say that ''after reflection, I am determined," is to assert the highest conceivable potency of a finite self-determining being. Nor can any one imagine what larger amount of simple " power of will " should be desired in the interests of man's moral free- dom. More clearness of vision, more light on consequences, more pure and noble intentions, finer sensibilities, higher estimates of the more spiritual goods, — any and all of these acquirements render any man ''freer" from the risks and dangers, the mistakes and errors, of the moral life. But I fail to see how the consciousness of self-activity which is expressed by the " I can," under the most favorable circum- 1 Nic. Eth., Ill, iii, 17. MORAL FREEDOM 151 stances, could be made any more convincing of the real nature of the transaction than it actually is. The philosophy of conduct must, then, never omit to em- phasize this most mysterious and, in some respects, most essentially incomprehensible of psychical phenomena, espe- cially since so much of human experience inevitably leads the thought to different and even opposed conclusions re- specting the nature of man, the nature of things, and the character of the relations actually existing between the two. The psychological characteristics of a deliberate choice are best understood by contrasting this supreme act of will with every form of impulsive volition. In view of the prevalence of the teleological principle in all mental as well as physical life, there is good ground for agreeing with M. Paulhan ^ : " Every idea, . . . every sentiment, in brief every psychic system tends to complete itself by volitions and motor phenomena ; every system has its own will." Now if this tendency itself were never subject to a conscious and vol- untary check the phenomena of deliberate choice would never occur, and moral freedom could never develop. But deliberation is itself the conscious interposition of a check until two or more contending " psychic systems " can have their values estimated and one of them be adopted to the exclusion of the others. So that what is called " delibera- tion " is itself a mixture of intellectual activity and inhibitory volition; indeed, in all cases where the questions deliberated have a moral import, deliberation is a most significant piece of conduct. There are, indeed, not a few cases where every principle of morality leads to the conclusion that action ought to he preceded by deliberation, with its resulting clearer vision of the end to be aimed at and its more precise estimate of the values involved. The moral ideal is that of a Self volun- tarily using its own intelligence to secure the ends of that conduct which is judged to be right. Deed without judg- 1 L'Activite Mentale, p. 59 f . 152 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT ment, or impulsive judgment, is in these cases morally wrong conduct. The very effect of the intervention of will and reason, or of the consciously judging and voluntary mind, is totally to change the relations in which the appetites, passions, emotions, and desires, stand to the final deed of will. So that the will to deliberate — " to reason with one's self," or " to let the voice of reason be heard," as men expressively say — often amounts in the issue to this : / will the influe7itial ideas, feelings, and desires, rather than allow these ideas and feelings and desires to influence — not to say, determine me. " Nothing can well be more shallow and misleading, in description and explan- ation of the facts of consciousness, as such, than to regard deliberation as a mere struggle for supremacy in conscious- ness of ideas and feelings and desires that strictly determine will." 1 Moreover, the volition itself, when issued after deliberation is not psychologically the same. All the naive distinctions of degrees of responsibility and of guilt which men customarily make, and all the elaborations of acceptable ethical theory, agree in affirming this. The deed done with " malice pre- pense " is peculiarly one's own. If no deliberation intervene, then the feeling is rather that of being influenced or even car- ried away by one's own impulses ; if deliberation intervene, then the feeling is rather that of a self-determining which one of two or more impulses shall be given the influence which it is judged to deserve. The culminating one in this series of psychical phenomena is that decision, or " cutting-short" of the process of deliberation, in which will expresses itself as the faculty distinctive in all making of choices. Or, to de- scribe the experience in terms less abstract and technical : I myself decide which of the ideas and feelings and desires I will make definitively and finally my very own. The prob- lem whose solution has thus far been only more or less highly 1 See Psychology, Descriptive and Explanatory, p. 618 f. MORAL FREEDOM 153 probable, is now for the time being solved ; only the decision decides, only the resolution resolves the problem. Undoubtedly, only a relatively small amount of any man's conduct results from, or consists in, those intelligent and deliberate choices which exhibit in a complete and supreme way all the characteristics that have just been described. But just as undoubtedly such choices are within the limits of man's capacity, and are actually made by many, if not frequently by all men. It is not the heroes alone who can truthfully declare with the Paracelsus of Browning: " I have subdued my life to the one purpose Whereto I ordained it ; " or, agam : *' I have made my life consist of one idea." The plain men and women of the world, even in the more un- favorable conditions and lower stages of moral development, do frequently make choices which are of large subsequent effect upon their own lives and upon the lives of others. These concern their habitual employments, their places of residence, their marital and other social connections, the parts they play in the life of the tribe or larger community, and even the interests which affect the ongoing of the his- tory of the race. " Will in the narrower sense, or rational will," says Paulsen,^ "is desire determined by purposes, principles, and ideals." But this is only the partial truth ; Rational will is the Self regarded as determining its own con- duct with a view to realize the ends that are conceived of as good. The phenomena, taken in their entirety and surveyed as im- portant factors in man's evolution, vindicate his claim to a conscious s^Zf-activity. The fact that this activity is itself dependent upon a development of the mind with all its powers, and the fact that it admits of a great variety of 1 System of Ethics, p. 220. 154 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT degrees, varying from an impulsive and more strictly deter- mined volition to the most intelligent and deliberate choice, — these facts do not destroy but only modify and explain the nature and import of the claim. In opposition to this view of the fundamental facts of ex- perience another is sometimes set up, which regards the phenomena as analyzable into a consciousness of change plus a conscious ignorance as to the cause of the change. In a word, this form of Determinism sees an intellectual weak- ness in the very conscious experience in which we find a con- sciousness of power. But a potency of action is not to be resolved into an impotence of knowledge. Nor can the activity of a Thing be converted into the activity of a Self merely by assuming that the thing has become conscious of what it is do- ing, while remaining still ignorant of the reason why. Some physical illustration is quite too often supposed, with a kind of Hindu logic, to prove the case against the advo- cate of a real moral freedom. Let us suppose an arrow in its flight to become conscious of its own buoyancy, speed, and direction, and to feel the influences which really come from earth and air, without however knowing anything about the bow and the strong arm that set it in motion, or the forces and laws of gravity and of atmospheric pressure. Might not this conscious Thing imagine itself to be soaring aloft of its own free will, to be voluntarily going straight for, or deviating from, the mark with feelings and desires appropriate ; and, finally, might it not rejoice in and esteem praiseworthy its own success on hitting the " bull's-eye," or drop to ground quite short of the target with feelings of disappointment and moral shame? But, surely, it does not require a past master of psychology to prick this iridescent bubble, or a great inter- preter of the language of the human soul to discover the fallacy of such mythological conceits. Let us make a com- plete Self out of this conscious arrow. And now under the prin- ciple of suflicient reason the " Thing " does account to itself MORAL FREEDOM 155 for its own speed and direction as partially due to causes that lie outside of itself ; its tendency to decline from the straight course it ascribes to the pressure of the invisible wind; and the necessity to put forth more of its own effort to keep aloft it attributes to the down-pulling of the earth beneath. And yet this conscious arrow refuses to credit the conclusion that the wholly sufficient reason for its action resides outside of its own present, self-determining choice ; and it maintains this refusal to the last, in spite of all the cogent pleadings of a deterministic philosophy. Add all these potencies of intellect and will, and not a few others, together with the ethical feel- ings of man, to this conscious arrow, and the conscious arrow has become a conscious Self, with all the rights, duties, and moral ideals of such a rational and free being. As to the possibility of so wonderful a transmigration of souls, I am quite willing to leave it to the most ardent and consistent advocates of the theory of psycho-physical parallelism to discuss. But to drop so imperfect and even absurd an illustration ; it distinctly is not true to the facts that ignorance of the pre- cise influences operative is any measure of the willingness to attribute to the Self the power of self-determination ; or, on the other hand, that knowledge of the influences actually at work upon the man necessarily diminishes at all the well- grounded belief in his freedom. Suppose, for example, that after much deliberation of the pros and cons I decide to take a certain journey. After making the decision, I know quite clearly the relatively narrow set of influences which tended to induce me to go abroad or to stay at home ; I am still able quite accurately to describe the amount of consideration which I gave to them in making up my mind to the final choice ; but, all the same, or even all the more, I remember that I was conscious of the ability to choose and that I did choose with this consciousness still pervading my deed of will. Now, on the other hand, suppose that I am investigating a 156 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT complicated problem in cerebral physiology. For example: What are the causal influences that determine the production of so-called " protagon " in the human brain ? I do not know. I have not the slightest doubt, however, that they are indefi- nitely more complicated than those which determined my clioice to take the journey. I may doubt whether all the physico-chemical causes which enter into the production of protagon will ever be known to the student of physiological chemistry. But do I doubt that every atom and molecule in that compound, and the whole constitution of the compound, was strictly determined and did not anywhere admit, on the part of its elements or its totality any self-determining choice ? Not for a moment ; not in the least. Why, then, this differ- ence ? It is not a difference in amounts of knowledge ; it is plainly a more fundamental difference. It involves all the enormous difference, based on indubitable facts of experience, between my conception of the nature of a Thing and my conception of the nature of a Moral Self. The other class of facts upon which the conception of moral freedom is based has been called the consciousness of imputa- bility. The bearing of these facts upon the conception of moral freedom may be more briefly stated in view of what has already been said touching allied facts. Some one is ethically responsible for all conduct; some one is to be approbated if the conduct is good, or disapproved if the con- duct is bad ; and for every good or bad piece of conduct some one deserves to be treated accordingly. All over the world, when good or bad deeds transpire, search is at once made for the person, or persons, whose the deeds are, so that to them they may be attributed as their very own. And to oivn the conduct — whether jointly or severally or exclusively — is to establish a sort of right to its appropriate treatment of praise or blame, of reward or punishment ; it is also to lay upon society the duty of this appropriate treatment. In a word, to the Self, in a special and peculiar way, belong such of its MORAL FREEDOM 157 individual actions or habitual modes of behavior as consti- tute its conduct and character ; this attribution of the con- duct makes ethically proper the imputation of praise or blame, and the bestowal of reward or the infliction of punishment. Few will doubt that men are in general ready to claim for themselves the credit and the reward which are due to the good deeds they are convinced they have done. Even the most genuinely humble Christian, in his most sincere ascrip- tion to God of whatever glory may belong to any of his own good deeds, still feels that his fellow-men ought also to recognize in their treatment of him that these good deeds were indeed his own. If God did them, — and to Him be all the glory, — still they were done in and through himself. Just as little doubt is there that men generally disapprove and blame and desire to punish those who have wronged them ; and that they express with good conscience this dis- approval and blame, if not a more explicit notice of demerit. And the fact that they are not, as a rule, so strict in their judgment, or so warmly convicted of the rationality of this universal mode of procedure, when their own selves must suffer thereby, is to be accounted for in obvious ways. In the case of those who have the highest degree of ethical cul- ture, moreover, we not infrequently find the disposition to make the most unsparing application of this working of moral consciousness to their own case. The bad things they them- selves do are, of all bad conduct, the nearest and most intui- tively disapproved and punished by themselves. They are of all men least disposed, in cowardly and self -deceitful fashion, to retreat before the condemnation of conscience or to throw the blame and the baneful consequences of their own wrongdoing off upon circumstances or upon other men. And such per- sons are the most trustworthy witnesses to those facts of moral consciousness which have this import. All conduct, with its accompaniments and consequences of approval and disapproval, merit and demerit, is imputable to some Self as to its author and source. 158 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT The phenomena of ethical pride and shame, of the claim made by the pure conscience and the remorseful consciousness to be self-rewarded or self-punished, even if society neglect its duty, or fail through ignorance to administer reward or pun- ishment, are not peculiar to any tribe or to any era of ethical development. The man of honor in Old Japan committed hara-kiri, when his wrong conduct toward one of a lower class was not punishable as a crime in the eyes of the law. His honor called ; he punished himself. On this point the sanc- tions of the religious consciousness reinforce the moral feeling of the imputability of conduct. Hence not only the god who is friendly should enjoy a sacrifice as a gift, but the god who has become offended, must be propitiated by a sacrifice. Criminals have often surrendered themselves in order that the cravings of their own conscience for punishment might be appeased ; and sinners who become penitent get satisfaction in doing some sort of penance. Even the Zulus have the proverb : " When a fish is killed its own tail is inserted in its own mouth " (said of people who reap the reward of their deeds). The same view of the imputability of conduct is taught by the universal customs and the language of men as related to one another's deeds. Whatever one may think about the morality of revenge, one cannot forget the significance of the indisputable fact that men regard injuries done them by their fellowmen as demanding a different sort of treatment from that which is given to injuries done by things or by the lower animals. " Confucius made it a duty for a son to slay his father's murderer, just as Moses insisted on a strictly re- taliatory penalty for bloodshed." ^ Among the Fijians the duty of revenge passes from father to son, and from the son to th« nearest relation, according to the maxim: "Let the shell of the oyster perish by reason of years, and to these add a thousand more, still my hatred shall be hot." And 1 Comp. J. A. Farrer, Primitive Manners and Customs, p. 80. MOKAL FREEDOM 159 even the modern Italian extols the sweetness of revenge and declares it a morsel fit for God. Between the tribes of the uncivilized North American Indians, and between the fami- lies of the scarcely less uncivilized portions of our own South, feuds and blood-revenge illustrate this fact of imputabilitj in the form which makes a sacred duty of vengeance. Nor is the strength of this fact diminished when the lower stage of morals has been transcended and the beautiful sentiment of Persia has prevailed, which makes it the sign of a mean spirit to take private revenge for an injury, but a manly thing to return good for evil ; or when the yet clearer and more pro- nounced declarations of the sermon on the mount have been adopted as the law of social life. On the other hand, the opinion grows with all the growth of the common moral status, that to withhold praise and approbation from him who deserves it, as well as to bestow them selfishly where they are not deserved, are two kindred forms of evil conduct. Indeed, this may amount to saying that ingratitude (for pub- lic as well as private benefits — and every good deed is a public benefit) and sycophancy are among the basest of vices. The same truth is even more clearly set forth by the exist- ence and execution of the laws in all civilized states and nations ; ^s well as by much of that appeal to force which is made to settle matters of conduct in dispute between states or nations, — the so-called " arbitrament of war." For men can scarcely fight as wild-cats and tigers do. Although there are few wars of human history where either party has had a clear title to a perfect righteousness of conduct in the mat- ter under dispute, and no wars where both parties have had such a title, yet there are fewer still where there has been made no pretence — however hypocritical or mistaken — of some right to be asserted or some wrong to be redressed. But all such claims bear witness to the same universal belief in the imputability of human conduct. The barest pretence of justice carries with it this same irresistible belief. 160 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT There are, indeed, many curious customs and even laws which show through what various and shifting phases the conception of the more precise nature of man's responsibility for his conduct may pass. Most of these, however, may be explained as due to imperfect conceptions of personality, of the selfhood which the individual is considered to have. The history of man's ethical development seems to show that belief in the imputability of conduct is even more constant than are the conceptions of selfhood which he develops. The conception of selfhood is a relatively complex affair. It undergoes important modifications with the growth in culture and in experience of the individual and of the race. Thus the individual Self may, on the one hand, become merged and almost lost in the vague notion of a selfhood for the family, the tribe, or the state. Since the other members of the body domestic, social, political, suffer sympathetically when any one member suffers, by a not unnatural and useful fiction they are thought of as sharing in the goodness or badness of each other's conduct and in " the desert to be treated accordingly." But the same conception may, on the other hand, become so contracted as to be identified with some one of its own good or bad passions, affections, and impulses ; or even with some one of those bodily members that are the natural instruments for executing the will as moved by these passions, affections, and impulses. This vague and expansive conception of selfhood accounts in part for the custom of extending to the whole family or tribe the guilt of an individual member and of satisfying the demands of justice by executing the penalty upon any other member of the same family or tribe. Thus the Thlinkeet Indians, if they cannot catch the actual doer of a crime, kill one of his family or tribe instead. According to the native Samoan law a plaintiff might seek redress for the murder of one of his own relatives " from the brother, son, or other rela- tive of the guilty party.'* Among the natives of Australia, MORAL FREEDOM 161 when a crime was committed, and especially if the culprit es- caped, only persons unconnected with the family believed them- selves to be safe, until some one had expiated the crime. It is not long since the English law avenged itself on the successful suicide by punishing his relatives ; and not so very much longer since it incarcerated or fined the husband for an assault committed by his wife. To-day in many Western sections of this country vengeance for a crime committed by some one or more Indians is executed by killing as many as possible, even innocent members of the same tribe or of other tribes, — and this not as a necessary but awful deter- rent simply, but rather with the satisfaction of a good con- science. And do not the most Christian nations constantly disgrace their Christian name by treating the so-called in- ferior races with the same crude, selfish, and degraded, but awfully potent conceptions of personal responsibility for wrong-doing ? The thoughtful student of man's moral evolution cannot fail to find a certain basis in reality for these misguided ways of asserting the imputability of conduct. Some one has got to suffer, and some one ought to suffer, if any wrong has been done. And so much of a sort of solidarity is there to the connections of individual men, in the family, the tribe, the state, or the race, that the suffering cannot be confined to the personality of the criminal alone. Moreover, it ought not to be so confined. Nor is the reason for this " ought-not " purely a matter of expediency or of social policy. In their social connections men act with a kind of corporate responsi- bility. This fact makes the precise manner of the just dis- ti'ibution of praise and blame, reward and punishment, most difficult ; — so difficult indeed, that anything approaching per- fect justice is an impossibility. The question of Cain : " Am I my brother's keeper ? " has always been answered affirma- tively by the prevailing judgment and actual practice of the race. As ethical enlightenment increases, and " good will " 11 162 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT becomes more dominant, the conception of Selfhood becomes truer and more definite, and the points for the just and beneficent attachment of responsibility become more clearly discerned. The important conclusion, therefore, from this general fact of the imputability of conduct may be stated somewhat as follows : The fact itself belongs to the most fundamental and unchanging phenomena of man's moral consciousness. It guarantees the individual and corporate responsibility of men to one another, for their conduct and, to a certain ex- tent for the consequences of conduct. It implies the irresis- tible belief that conduct belongs to the Self, is the product of self-activity ; thus conduct can be, must be, and ought to be, followed by praise or blame, reward or punishment. But these rational sequences of conduct are themselves justifiable at the bar of reason itself only in view of the postulate of moral freedom. And, in fact, these sequences are, by all men and everywhere, justified in this way. For they are universally regarded as belonging to the very essentials of morality as a rational affair. Wrong-doing, since it is the product of a being possessed of moral freedom, ought to be blamed and punished ; but right conduct is reasonably en- titled to praise and to a reward of merit. For the total com- plex fact is not simply the fact of conduct imputed and treated accordingly ; it is rather the fact of conduct imputable and so reasonably treated accordingly. What now is the picture which these facts of universal moral consciousness both authenticate and require ? It is the picture of Man as self-determining; it is the picture of man as a rational free Self. Negatively described, it is the picture of a being that is not wholly determined either by environment and external stimuli and impulses, or by his own emotional and impulsive states or past habits of action. Positively described again, it is the picture of a being that, under differing circumstances and with varying degrees, MOKAL FREEDOM 163 develops a power which reaches its culminating manifesta- tion in its own peculiar form of intelligent and deliberate choice ; and this power is the whole Self actively determin- ing its own conduct. Perhaps nothing truer has ever been said upon this subject than the following sentences of Aris- totle ^ : " Therefore virtue depends upon ourselves ; and vice likewise. For where it lies with us to do, it lies with us not to do. Where we can say No, we can say Yes. If then the doing of a deed which is noble lies with us, the not-doing it, which is disgraceful, lies with us ; and if the not-doing, which is noble, lies with us, the doing, which is disgraceful, also lies with us. But if the doing and likewise the not- doing of noble or base deeds lies with us, and if this is, as we found, identical with being good or bad, then it follows that it lies with us to be worthy or worthless men." " We are ourselves joint causes^ in a way^ of our {virtuous or vicious) habits. Even those advocates of Determinism who venture to charge this universal opinion — We ourselves determine our conduct and help to make our own character — with being an illusion^ cannot well controvert the fact that this " illusion " underlies and interpenetrates the whole moral structure of human insti- tutions. It is an illusion of the race, a mutually tolerated and encouraged self-deceit that one cannot say afflicts, but the rather conserves the higher spiritual and ethical interests of all mankind. But no warning to the philosophy of conduct can easily be more significant than that which bids the reflective thinker beware how he passes lif^jhtly over to the realm of illusion facts of experience like these. It might well seem far better to toss some of his own fixed ideas, some of his boasted scientific (sic) conclusions, over into " the death- kingdom of abstractions." There are many of the transactions which take place between things and things, and between selves and things, that are 1 Nic. Eth., Ill, V, 2 and 20. 164 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT certainly known not to be " free " in any of tlie several mean- ings which ethics can possibly attach to this word. Indeed, modern science has a well-founded belief that things, if left to themselves, uniformly behave in ways which are strictly deter- mined by the natures and relations of the very things in whose changes the observed uniform behavior consists. I say natures as well as relations ; the meaning of this declaration will be made clearer and the application of it more pertinent at a later stage of the discussion. For the very term " nature " is one which science is obliged to use in order to cover up a vast amount of ignorance, and as a sort of comfortable locus for that unavailable fund of mystery which investigation always leaves on hand, no matter to what extent knowledge of so-called causes has been able to find its way. Or, to put the solution of the whole problem into one sentence: Science finds the total explanation of all the physical changes in the world in the assumption that all things are from the beginning strictly determined by their own natures how to behave — each in its own same way — when in determinate identical relations with other things. This is not, indeed, the naive, natural way in which men have always explained the physical changes with which their experience has made them familiar. It is not the way in which millions of men now explain these changes. It is, however, the way in which modern science insists upon explaining, at the very least, all physical changes. It will be found that all the objections to that view of moral freedom which I am advocating have their source in the so- called " principle of causation." But they come from its mis- conception and its consequent misapplication. The objections must be met by correcting the misconception and by determin- ing the true application of the principle. And if we have to leave a large residuum of ignorance as to specific causes to be located in the mysterious nature of the Self ; if we have, indeed, to end the controversy by saying that the very nature of man MORAL FREEDOM 165 consists largely in his developing the mysterious power of self- determination, still the confession is neither so extraordinary nor so damaging to a reasonable Libertarianism as it might at first appear. For the principle which controls the conscious and rational development of a morally constituted being is not the principle of causation in the complete mechanical form in which modern science applies it to the changes of things. There are, however, two ways of controverting moral free- dom with the principle of causation ; and these two ways differ largely because they regard the principle itself as resting upon experience in two different ways. Thus the objections which arise may take either one of the two following forms : (1) em- pirical and inductive, or objections from facts ; and (2) deduc- tive and a priori, or objections coming straight from the claim that the principle of causation — as interpreted by the objec- tor — is of universal and demonstratively valid applicability. The one class of objections points to our experience with facts, and claims simply. It is so ; the deeds of will, including the most intelligent and deliberate choices, are all strictly deter- mined by their antecedents and concomitants. The other class of deterministic theorists are bolder ; they venture to affirm : It must be so; the universal and unalterable principles of reason are on our side ; and we do not need to advance con- vincing proofs in the way of facts. Let us, however, take each position in order, and advance to the citadel of what Kant would call an " apodeictic " stronghold over gaps in the walls of its empirical surroundings. It is with no little amazement that, when one examines the Determinism which affirms for itself a solid basis in fact, one finds it hopelessly divided against itself on the most important matters, both theoretical and practical. Indeed, there is scarcely need to call upon Libertarianism to disprove the very substance of the deterministic argument so long as these two schools of Determinists contradict each other both in their affirmations and in their denials. The form which, without 166 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT disrespect, may be called " Old Fashioned Determinism," maintains that the sufficient reason for all deeds of will must be found in antecedent states of consciousness. It cultivates an elaborate mathematics dealing with the dynamical theory of " motives," or those mainly emotional states of conscious- ness which have different degrees of potency to move (or de- termine in a 2'^asz-mechanical way) the Will. Men choose always in accordance with — and so as determined by — the appetite, passion, desire, sentiment, or estimate of some form of the good, which for them at the time of choosing is the most forceful, the most of a real moving power. In a word, whatever form of expression may be selected to represent the facts of experience, the underlying assumption is this : All psychoses, including deeds of will and even the most intelli- gent and deliberate choices, stand to antecedent psychoses in the relation of effects to causes. But the form of Determinism which I will venture to call "■ New Fashioned " (although its more appropriate name is the now almost universally rejected and opprobrious title, " Materialism ") denies that psychoses can really influence, or cause, each other in any case or under any circumstances. For states of consciousness, say its advo- cates, are not realities and cannot act dynamically upon each other. The real cause of them all is the succession of chemico- physical changes which goes on in the nervous system ; and especially, the succession of brain-states. Psychoses, whether appearing to us as motives or deeds of will, are mere phenom- ena — phenomena of the brain. And just as we do not say of the successive puffs of steam from the locomotive — ^, B, C, D, . , , iV — that A causes B, and B causes (7, and so on until iVis reached ; but we hold that the entire series, A, B, C, D, , . , N, is explained by the succession of dynamical changes which go on in the boiler, steam-chest, etc., of the locomotive, under the influence of surrounding temperature, atmospheric pressure, etc., — so ought we to explain the succes- sion of psychoses. Whatever may be their apparent character MORAL FREEDOM 167 in consciousness, we must explain them by the only causal chain of occurrences which can possibly be considered as effective in reality, — namely, the succession of cerebral neuroses. In a word, psychoses cannot cause or influence psychoses ; all psychoses, as respects their nature and their order in the series, are caused by neuroses. Both these forms of the deterministic hypothesis have cer- tain undoubted facts of experience on their side ; and every theoretical construction of the conception of Moral Freedom which aims to afford a sufficient explanation of the most patent facts must admit some truth from them both. For they are both right in much of what they affirm. But they are both wrong in much of what they neglect or deny ; and they are both wrong in the extreme to which they push their own way of giv- ing a theoretical construction to the phenomena. It should never be forgotten that Determinism always has been, is now, and must continue to be, a theory for explaining undoubted facts. As I have said, it is a scholastic affair. And now we discover that its two main forms are totally and irreconcilably contradictory with regard to the fundamental question : Do the psychoses stand in causal connections with one another ? Or, to state the same question in a more practical manner : Do men mean anything which corresponds to the reality, when they explain their own and each other's conduct by referring to the influence of passion, desire, estimate of the ideal good of truth, beauty, or duty ; or to the tendencies of a mental and moral sort which are popularly summed up in the word, character? "Yes," says the Old Fashioned Deter- minism ; " and by such influences we are to explain all choices as strictly determined, though by antecedent psychoses." " No," says the New Fashioned Determinism ; " for all psy- choses, and the subjects of them all, are mere phenomena ; they can determine nothing ; they, and their order of arising and setting, are strictly determined by the antecedent or con- comitant chain of physical changes." 168 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT Let us now ask for a brief re-examination of those facts of experience on which such portentous theories rely in order to rally around themselves their schools of adherents. That men are actually influenced by their emotional states of every kind in the matter of their conduct and in the development of character, has already been admitted as an indubitable matter of experience. That men do find the explanation of conduct — and an explanation which deals with causce verce — in their passions and desires, in their loves and hates, and in the various forms of impulse toward different kinds of good, is a truth of experience on which all society and all human life, as well as all science or philosophy of conduct, are based. And one may be pardoned for a sort of contemptuous impatience with any theory of moral freedom — whether deterministic or libertarian — which denies the reality of the explanation. But it is a long and blind road to travel which leads from this admission to the unlimited conclusions of what has been called the Old Fashioned Determinism. Especially is this true if one honestly proposes and faithfully endeavors to follow the guidance of experience, and not to abandon the highway of Empiricism for the steep and dangerous paths of an a priori metaphysics of Causation. For, let the formula which is to embody the deterministic conclusion be framed as skilfully as possible, and it will be found that, unless it is made depend- ent upon some misconception of the metaphysics of causation, it cannot succeed, even as a formula, in covering all the facts of experience. When analyzed, the statements of every attempt at a purely empirical doctrine of the deterministic order prove to be either absurd, or tautological, or insuf- ficiently founded. What now is the position which must be proved to accord with the sum-total of human experience if we are to accept the view of the first form of Determinism ? It is that all the self-determining activities of the Self are, contrary to its own impression, really determined by its own antecedent states, MORAL FREEDOM 169 under the laws of association and habit. Shortened up and stiffened, this statement may be made to read : So-called motives are the sufficient and efficient causes of all so-called choices. And, in general, the whole series of psychoses which constitute the life history of a Moral Self are a causal chain in which each link is dependent in the most absolute fashion upon the preceding links. In every deterministic but empirical construction of the principles of human mental and moral development there is much false as well as much true psychology. The two or three most important false conceptions of psychical life and of its meaning which are held by this form of the theory may now be noticed. In the first place, so-called " motives " are treated by it as states of consciousness that can tliemselves be considered independently of that power, or aspect, of the Self which we call Will. But even in the lower stages of man's life it is psychologically inexact not to regard him as an active Self, as a Will, which in some measure determines its own motives, and is not wholly determined by them. Especi- ally when the power of intelligent and deliberate choice unfolds itself, and in some sort according to the extent and height of its unfolding, deeds of will begin to determine motives as truly as motives determine deeds of will. And as the devel- opment of moral being goes on, the phenomena of imitation, instinct, impulse, and desire, in unchecked and irrational form — all that goes to make up the push of mere motive in its lower stages — become relatively less distinctive ; and the phenomena of will, with its principle of freedom under the higher laws of mental development, become relatively more prominent and distinctive. It is very largely this in which consists the manhood of man, the nature of Selfhood set with other selves into relations of domestic, social, and political kind. This espousal of tlie extreme and now obsolete " faculty- theory " of the soul vitiates the old-fashioned form of Deter- minism. Its conception of a Self as a succession of strictly 170 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT determined and causally connected psychoses is totally inade- quate. For it must be substituted the conception of an evolv- ing, conscious, and rational Life — depending for its original characteristics on its membership in the race, and for its more special characteristics on its ancestral inheritance, influenced constantly by education and environment, and developing under the laws of association and the principle of habit. But to say all this is not to give the entire account of this conscious and rational Life ; for at every stage of its development, and in- creasingly if it develops in accordance with its higher powers and better opportunities, the Self is, by its choices, constantly determining itself, and so manifesting a certain relative independence of its inheritance, its environment, and even of its own past development. No particular deed of will, when analyzed in detail, can be resolved, on empirical grounds at least, into the mere effect of the antecedent motives. This is true above all of those choices which have the highest import for the moral life. There are choices where strong passions, desires, affections or selfish aims and impulses, come into competition with the estimate of the value of ideals and with the generally mild- mannered and low-keyed form of sentiment which accompanies and enforces all ideals. About the true psychological char- acter and the ethical significance of such choices, the current English psychology and ethics of the seventeenth, eighteenth, and early part of the nineteenth centuries has been product- ive of much obscurity and misconception. This psychology set up a mechanical, a perfectly " wooden " standard, for measuring the relative weights or impulsive tendencies of those states of consciousness which it was pleased to isolate from the stream of consciousness and hypostasize as " motives." Indeed, without admitting the full force of those facts of con- sciousness on which the conception of moral freedom is itself based, we have no ground in experience for the measurement MORAL FREEDOM 171 of the relative intensities of " motive '' states. It is true that there are certain conditions of mind in which the prominent fac- tors call attention to the speed and inevitable nature of the tran- sition from impulse to volition. In some of these conditions nearly the whole of one's consciousness is summed up in the feeling of being hurried away to an issue in action which one foresees, and yet is unable to avoid. But such conditions by no means constitute the whole, or the chief part, of any man's moral life. And even in them it is often, if not generally true, that the consciously active Self can, and does, modify the earlier stages of these strong impulses by, at least, a par- tial acceptance or rejection of them, — while it is more than probable that with the adult man no conscious action which has moral quality is totally passive. Moreover, when one tries to estimate the impulsive power of different motives even of the more passionate and emotional kind, one discovers that there is little or no chance here for any near approach to a science of mental and moral dynamics. Nor is this fact due wholly or chiefly to ignorance; it is the rather due to the nature of the case. The doer himself, no matter how shrewd in self-estimate he may have become, cannot weigh his own motives accurately, according to their intensity. How much less can any one external to the motives perform such a feat in spiritual mathematics. In the bare fact of experience, motives themselves are nothing statical ; they do not appear and remain before the mind, side by side, in the same field of consciousness. And the mental image of a past (even of a single moment past) passion or emotion cannot, for the amount of its merely impulsive potency, be weighed against the now real motive, the present energetic urgency of passion or emotion. What determines in such cases, if all intelligent and deliberate choice is at any moment ruled out, is associa- tion and habit, — what is called character. When, however, the more intense impulsive states of con- sciousness contend for the control of the purposes and deeds 172 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT with the Self regarded as placing a sentimental value on in- tellectual, aesthetic, or moral ideals, the problem of spiritual dynamics becomes — not simply more complicated and insolv- able, but even intrinsically absurd. Here, again, it is true that one meets with examples of minds which choose what they estimate to be true, beautiful, or morally good, with an im- pulsive intensity of feeling which amounts to an overwhelming passion or affection. So the Russian Queen longed to die, that she might learn what Leibnitz could not tell her ; or, ac- cording to tradition, Martin Luther appealed to God to sup- port his chosen position, for he " could not do otherwise " than follow his convictions as to the right. But such devotion to ideals is itself due to the repeated free choice of the same ideals in preference to other contending interests of a lower kind. In general, however, the so-called moving influence of ideals of truth, beauty, and righteousness, cannot be compared with that of the impulsive states of consciousness, in respect merely to the intensity with which both act upon the Will. Indeed, unless chosen repeatedly and made the somewhat con- sistent principles of conduct as defining the ends of life, and as regulating the means for attaining these ends, ideals in gene- ral have little or no motive power in them. They are the rivals of the motives to choose only as we prefer them, for their very quality's sake ; and in this voluntary preference we move toward them with self-determination, rather than allow ourselves to be moved away from them by no matter how in- tensely powerful appetites, passions, and affections. It is only by neglecting such plain facts of human experi- ence that one can put any, even temporary, confidence in that P«ewc?(?-science of mental and moral dynamics which the psy- chological and political forms of Determinism cultivate. To convey knowledge which enables its student to make, either as respects the action of the individual, or with regard to the course of the community, any entirely trustworthy predictions for the future, it is confessedly feeble and incomplete. Its at- MORAL FREEDOM * 173 tempt to account for the facts of choice is often incapable of expression except in terms of a most notable circulus in defin- iendo. For example, Mr. A chooses the conduct X ; but Mr. B, under seemingly similar circumstances, chooses the con- duct y. The choice was, in both cases, a matter of fact ; and obviously it was an intelligent and deliberate choice. Tf%, now, did A choose X, when B chose Y^ Why did A choose pushpin or something similar, when B chose poetry ; or, why did the former elect to gratify a base passion while the latter determined, in spite of strong temptation from similar passion, to remain true to his ideal of the noble and the good ? Be- cause the one preferred the gratification of desire or passion ; the other preferred fidelity to his conviction as to what was beautiful or righteous. But what is the precise meaning of the word " preference " in such cases ? Does it mean that gratified passion was in the one case, and fidelity to truth and duty in the other case, esteemed the greater good ; and that this mathematical phrase — " the greater " — refers simply to the impulsive magnitude of the affective consciousness, the mere bulk in the stir of feelings aroused by the mental image of the desired end ? The facts of the moral consciousness cannot be handled with any such significance to one's language as this. For over and over again has it been true that A^ who chose to gratify passion, has looked upon duty as seeming very fair and attractive to him ; and B^ who has chosen fidel- ity to duty, has often formed and executed this deed of will in spite of passions as impulsively strong as those of A. More- over, if preference means nothing more than the intellectual estimate of an apparent good, the choice which is the actual preference, has not yet been accounted for. What then re- mains that is empirically certain, but the empty declaration : A chose X because he did choose it (actually preferred it) ; and for a like reason, which is no reason at all, B chose Y? It must be confessed, then, that there is no fixed standard possible for the measurement of the various classes of so-called 174 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT motives ; that, where quantitative comparisons are at all pos- ible one needs always to bear in mind a certain qualitative in- comparableness between passions and affections as motives and the intellectual estimate of the value of ideals as motives; and that, practically, the mysterious problem afforded by the Self in its actual self-determination remains essentially unchanged. Nor is this problem the better solved by taking into the account the character of the person making the choice. A chooses X, largely because J. is J. ; and B chooses F, because B is B. Thus the inquiry becomes, not so much a problem in the dynamics of human personality, but rather in its chemistry. Just as a certain product necessarily emerges from the union under given circumstances of a definite quan- tity of definitively constituted atoms, so — Determinism claims — is essentially the case with the human constitution. The nature of the constituents is the important statical consideration in attempting to account for all the combina- tions into which they are found to enter. Thus even writers on ethics who, like Mr. Leslie Stephen, are avowedly and consistently deterministic throughout, find themselves com- pelled to hold that the ethical feelings and ideas expressed in such words as " blame," " merit," " good," and " bad," etc., attach themselves properly only to the character of the indi- vidual, and not to his native endowment of passions and emotions. No philosophy of conduct is possible which does not find room for the facts of experience, and the theoretical construc- tion of moral principles, that are implied in a valid conception of character. It is under the laws which control the for- mation of character that man gains such moral freedom as he has, and uses this freedom in the continuance and develop- ment of a truly moral life. But, on the other hand, the con- ception of character cannot itself be formed without taking into account those conscious experiences in which the con- ception of moral freedom has its origin; and any such OF TH: MORAL FREEDOM conception of character as contravenes and annuls the con- ception of freedom is itself unfit to command our intellectual allegiance and is injurious to the morals of mankind. In arguing this question it is especially necessary to heed the warning against hypostasizing. What men call character is no entity, no self-existent principle, capable of playing an independent part in the dynamics of the moral life. The character of any existence is merely the sum-total of those more uniform ways of its behavior by which we are able for purposes of knowledge and the communication of knowledge, to distinguish it from other existences. But the character of a Self is always a quite different affair from the character of a Thing. For the character of a Self always includes the choices, and the results of the choices, in exercising which it has been self-determining. What ethics seeks is not some hidden, statical core of reality which stands in the relation of universal and omnipotent cause to each of the individual choices ; the reality of the individual Moral Self is rather itself in a measure the constantly varying resultant of those choices. The man's character is not something external to himself, which, as a finished product of the past or an extra-voluntary determining force, gives the entire reason why he chooses as he does choose. On a basis of inherited potentialities, indeed, and under a variety of influences from the total, constantly changing environment, and in a certain subjection to the prin- ciple of habit, the Self, nevertheless, progressively determines its own character. Habit is indeed strong, and its bonds are often difficult, sometimes impossible, to be broken. But, looked at from the historical point of view, habit itself is very largely a record of self-determining choices, a child of moral freedom. Looked at from the present psychological point of view it is the Self, tending more or less strongly to choose certain forms of conduct ; and yet just now, perhaps, on the eve, by a choice, of interrupting the previous current of impulses and starting 176 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT the formation of a new habit. Only the complete extinction of moral freedom converts any man's character into a purely impulsive cause, an all-sufficient determining reason, for each of the particulars of his action. Habit rules inexorably and unvaryingly, only when self-determination has wholly ceased. It is important now to notice how the attempt to carry this form of the deterministic conception, with complete thorough- ness of analysis and unbending rigidity of logic, to its last conclusion lands the mind in the most uncompromising Ma- terialism. This surprising result is reached in the following way. All psychoses, it is claimed, are strictly determined by pre-existent psychoses, and these pre-existent psychoses by others still earlier : — and so on to the very beginnings of psychical life. But what determines for the individual these beginnings and the channels in which they have flowed from the first until now ? Any complete answer must appeal to the physical environment on which the psychoses are reac- tions ; and back of all, to the atomic structure and physico- chemical tendencies which were carried over in the impreg- nated ovum^ — the one certain and fixed antecedent of the entire psychical development. Thus the deterministic mental and moral dynamics ends in a psycho-physical and chemico- biological dynamics. For it is the physical and chemico- biological forces which tie the conscious Self in with the course of Nature, and strictly determine for it disposition, character, and all the conscious states and all the pieces of conduct, — even those which find their account in disposition and character, for lack of a complete account in the shifting external environment. Such, then, is the legitimate outcome of this form of the deterministic hypothesis. All psychoses, the whole ongoing of the life of the Self, with its illusory belief that It^ by its own choices, can determine ought, as well as its beneficial but equally illusory conviction that it is somehow rationally subject to praise and blame, and deserving of reward or punishment, are MORAL FREEDOM 177 only the phenomenal exhibition of the really effective forces of external Nature. At the last we neither determine our- selves, nor are determined by our own dispositions or char- acters : — " We are a moving row of shadow-shapes," — Our very shapes are shadows and the movement even is not our own, but Nature's, whose products through and through we are. To this same conclusion the second form of Determinism leads by a more direct route. Into the arguments against its rude hustling of moral freedom quite off the whole field from the start, I shall not here enter in detail ; and this, for two sufficient reasons. In the first place, I have elsewhere ^ given them a detailed treatment, both inductive and speculative. In the second place, the slender basis upon which the theory stands renders it even more astounding than is the first impression made by its far-reaching consequences. The following sum- mary of conclusions will, therefore, suffice in this connection to answer the assumption that all psychoses, including choices however deliberate, are strictly determined by the antecedent or concomitant brain-states : First, we are almost completely ignorant of the nature and relations of those chemico-physi- cal changes in the brain, into the science of which it is pro- posed to resolve the connections of the mental states as they appear in consciousness. About the influences under which we choose, and about the conscious character of our choices, we do know much which has the appearance at least of the most certain kind of knowledge. In this sphere all adult human beings have seemingly trustworthy information ; and upon its trustworthiness they plan and conduct and estimate their own lives and the lives of others. But no expert in cerebral physiology, knows anything worth calling by the name of "science" about the real nature of that chain of 1 Comp. Elements of Physiological Psychology, pp. 585-688 ; Philosophy of Mind, pp. 113-148 and 208-396. 12 178 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT occurrences in the brain-states which is assumed to deter- mine, without the intervention of a soul, the sequences of the conscious states. And second : If we had all possible, even all conceivable knowledge of the laws of the nature and established connec- tions of the brain-states, this knowledge could never explain the activities of the conscious Self, especially its self-deter- mining choices. For, not simply is it true that physico- chemical changes in the brain can never be conceived of as the sufficient explanation for changes in consciousness ; it is also even more obviously true that certain factors and aspects of the more elaborate and developed mental and moral processes have no conceivable physical correlate — not to say, physical explanation. What can be meant, for ex- ample, by ascribing the feeling of obligation, or the estimate of the ideal value of a beautiful picture or of a noble action, or the feelings of potency and imputability which belong to moral freedom, to some particular kinds of chemico-physical changes in the brain-states as their sole and sufficient explanation ? And, third: Abundant facts of experience furnish incon- testable proof that, if we are to interpret the phenomena of the influence of the body over the mind as significant of a series of real transactions we are equally compelled to interpret the phenomena of the influence of the mind over the body as having the same real significance. Feelings, ideas, and especi- ally choices, considered as conscious processes, have quite as much claim to afford a satisfactory explanation of changes in the brain-states, as the latter have to be made realiter account- able for the character and sequences of the feelings, ideas, and choices. If the theory which directs all the energy in one di- rection, after ascribing it all to a psychical source, comes into conflict with the physical hypothesis of the conservation and correlation of energy; so does the theory which finds only a physical source of energy, while scouting at the notion that con- MORAL FREEDOM 179 scious states can be " causes " of nervous changes in any verifia- ble meaning of the words. The current resort to the absolutely unintelligible theory of psycho-physical parallelism helps out the one theory no more than the other. We know as much which may warrant the claim that the conscious Self is a source of control for the body as we know in favor of the proposition that the body accounts for changes in the con- scious Self. Furthermore, fourth : All human science of every sort, considered purely as psychological fact, is only man's way of explaining the connections of his own conscious states. Let cerebral physiology succeed in the most brilliant discoveries, the saying of the old woman in one of Fritz Renter's novels will still remain true : " There is nothing so near to one as one's self." What is known immediately and indubitably is only this — the psychoses as influencing each other, and the relations in which they all seem to stand to what we call the Subject of them all, the conscious Ego. What men actually experience is the dependence of choices on perceptions, feelings, and ideas, and the dependence of feelings, ideas, and perceptions on choices. Only by remote, intricate, and often doubtful inferences do they reach any conclusions at all as to the connections between so-called brain-states, or between them and the sequences of human consciousness. Such inferences can never establish for themselves the scientific right to contradict and annul those more immediate facts of experience in order to explain which they themselves have been introduced as hypotheses. Finally, fifth : When this second form of Determinism is carried to its extreme logical result, it, too, presents us with a picture of all Reality, including human life and human society, which undermines the entire structure of morality. The individual man becomes, absolutely and with no possibility of any qualification, a phenomenon of the blind and soulless play of physical forces. Human society and all the develop- 180 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT ment of man in history must be explicable in the same way. Human history is the puppet show of physical Nature ; it is in no sense, at any time, the structure of man's building. The phrases which ethics so glibly employs when it dis- courses of " moral forces," " moral ideals," " moral standards," have no real applicability to the facts, when man has been reduced to the strictly determined series of conscious puffs, phenomenal of the partially known changes that, for unknown reasons, go on in that universal boiler and steam-chest we call the World of Reality. Surely man's condition is worse than that of the abandoned product of an illegitimate and unethical mixture : " In die Welt hinausgestossen Steht der Mensch verlassen da." The truth, I think, is simply this : all Determinism, strictly constructed and logically carried to its issue, ends in Material- ism. Why should its advocate be afraid or ashamed of the issue he has himself forced ? Surely, the last thing to go in any system or practice of morals should be that honest manliness which stands upright in the positions which have voluntarily and deliberately been assumed. And to fear being called a name which one merits is as cowardly as to call another an opprobrious name which is not appropriate or deserved. But the return to a study of the facts of conscious experience enables the student of moral consciousness promptly to throw off this nightmare of a materialistic Determinism. I will now notice briefly the attempt to establish Deter- minism inductively upon a basis of statistics. Here the argument is that the individual cannot have moral freedom, because there are facts to show that the multitudes of individ- uals frequently act alike under like influences. To every such argument may be opposed the undoubted facts that the validity of the statistics themselves is usually exceedingly question- MORAL FREEDOM 181 able; that the interpretation of the statistics is generally doubtful ; and that other classes of statistics very severely test, if they do not wholly controvert, this form of the determin- istic hypothesis. For example, if the number of illegitimate births in some district of Southern Europe suddenly suffers a great diminution, in close connection with the revival of well- paid employment for the female operatives in its silk-mills, this does not prove that Maria or Angelica has been com- pelled or determined to become virtuous thereby, or even that she and her companions have really become more virtuous. Probably, it simply shows that a larger number of couples are now financially able to comply with the legal restrictions which the State has unfortunately imposed upon marriage. But the virtue or the vice of sexual intercourse is not wholly, or even chiefly, determined by statute. Maria and Angelica, in that eternal conflict in which we are all placed between our moral ideals and our lower impulses and inferior interests, may choose according to their best light to be either good or bad, quite irrespective of the conditions of the silk market. Doubtless for them, as for us all, the external conditions and internal excitements, but above all the habitual past clioices will make goodness, or badness, much easier or much harder in any particular case. But for either of these two souls, as for millions of others, there may come a moment in prayer, or reflection, or memory, when the worth of the moral ideal will be so revealed as to let it assert its more legitimate influence. Then the conscious self-determining Self will have its best chance to assert and to establish its right to a higher and more effective form of moral freedom. For sudden reforms and complete religious conversions are, after all, not such rare and isolated phenomena in human society. And they constitute hard facts for any theory of Determinism that wishes to plant itself upon purely empirical grounds. Let it be admitted, however, that good deeds- and bad deeds, virtues and crimes, tend to go in groups. This is only to 182 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT reinforce a truth necessary to be taken account of by every attempt at a philosophy of conduct. Certainly men are influenced in their behavior as individuals by the social con- ditions under which they exist and develop. The obviously criminal population is always largely made up of a class that on account of discouraging environment, relatively great sus- ceptibility to impulsive considerations, and a low degree of intelligence, has, on the average, a less degree of freedom. Moral freedom is always, indeed, a matter of degrees. The theory of morals, as well as the practice of enlightened men, takes all this into account.^ We expect that the final judg- ment and the ideally perfect judge will not fail to authenti- cate this truth. But especially in the most enlightened and civilized nations there are not a few who have fallen down from the higher into the lower stratum ; and some come up from the lower, in spite of all their burdens and temptations, into strata that lie far above. But falls, and reforms, and risings, in the ethical scale are significant of the same por- tentous fact ; the character and destiny of the individual are not all strictly determined irrespective of the self-determina- tion of the conscious, rational, and ethically-constituted Self. We have, then, a most lamentably weak non-sequitur in the argument which, from a certain observed regularity in the external actions of a multitude of individuals, concludes that all the conduct of every individual in that multitude is strictly dependent upon influences which are, as it were, external to his own choice. That man is in some sort the creature of circumstances, and that many men are largely so — who would venture to deny this in full view of his experience with ■men ? But that man is by deeds of will also in some sort the creator of his own character, and the moulder of society and of nature ; and that many men are so in a somewhat large 1 Compare the pictures of some of these lower classes of society — much more sensible and true to the facts than the work of Lombroso and his followers — given by Josiah Flynt in his " Tramping with Tramps," and " The World of Graft." MORAL FREEDOM 183 and impressive way — who would venture to refuse to admit this complementary truth ? During the entire previous discussion it can scarcely have escaped observation that the effort of a strict Determinism to keep close to the facts of experience is never quite success- ful. The Determinist cannot be content to argue that his case is true, — in fact he always covertly assumes it is true in fact, because he thinks it must he true. But this must he is itself the result of a misconception. It is due to a partial or com- plete failure to understand the conception of Causation. The philosophy of conduct, therefore, must undertake the criticism of this conception. Of this task also I shall now only briefly summarize what I have already said with great detail in several other connections.^ First of all, it is essential to bear in mind how exceedingly complicated and shifty is the nature of the conception of Causation, with its different forms of statement and of appli- cation. The very conception has quite generally of late been either hypostasized and made a god, or banished as a ghost from the realm of scientifically authorized abstractions. But it has neither the unity of internal structure necessary for such metaphysical mythology, nor can it be got rid of by ignor- ing or ridiculing it. In any workable form Causation obvi- ously involves the categories of Force, Relation in Time and Space, Law and Final Purpose ; also a certain mysterious residuum which all our efforts cannot resolve, and which we are compelled to recognize in a general way as belonging to the inexplicable original Nature of things and of souls. Now the narrow range of vision and the shallow insight of the current scientific Determinism consists in its attempt to handle and explain all experience as though it came com- pletely under one type of the complex conception of causation, — namely, that of a Physical Mechanism. As we have just 1 Comp. Philosophy of Mind, chap, iii, vi, ix, x ; Philosophy of Knowledge, chap. X, xviii ; A Theory of Reality, chap, iii, vi, vii, x, xiii. 184 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT seen, the ultimate logical consequence of the deterministic hypothesis in morals is this : The World, of selves, as well as of things, is a piece of mechanism in which ideas of value, as well as all the finer sentiments of art, morals, and religion, and the choices which have regard to such ideas and senti- ments play no really effective part. The psychological origin of the conception of causation warns us against any strictly mechanical way of interpreting our experience. This conception itself cannot be accounted for, or its real meaning understood and explained, without admitting the reality of that conscious and rational self- activity which culminates in ethical, free choice.^ The processes in which the formation of this conception takes place follow somewhat the following order: I know myself to be active ; I know myself to be restricted, inhibited in my activity. In other words, my deed of will is generally, if not universally accompanied or followed by a feeling of effort. Hence arise the ideas of those mutually related and dependent forces with which we invest external things. But this experi- ence of energy inhibited is, of course, connected with the more or less careful and intelligent observation of the sequent changes in the relations of myself to things, and of things to one another. For I am interested in knowing how to carry out my will in effecting changes in things ; and through the more immediately dependent changes which I effect, I find that more remote changes in other things can be brought about. Moreover, I soon develop an intellectual curiosity, which may become a burning passion and a practical self-devotion in the effort to discover how all the different realities stand related to each other in respect of their interdependent changes. How one may secure the ends one desires by using one's force in its dependent relations to other soulless or 1 The reader will please bear in mind that the dogmatic form in which this statement is here given would not seem justifiable to the author without the references already made to the diacussions which have established it as their conclusion. MORAL FREEDOM 185 soulful forces is of the utmost practical moment. But one's more purely scientific interest is not limited in this way. So, then, from these beginnings within the Self and its most immediate environment, and with its own most pressing needs in view, the conception of causation is objectified, and goes abroad to conquer the whole of Reality. For the most part, men understand the simpler sufficient reasons of their own actions, — the ideas to which they react willingly, and the passive conditions by means of which other men and the world of things limit their wills. Some of every man's environment — the other selves — is like his own self, influ- enced by intelligible motives, yet rather uncertain and freaky ; but the things that are not selves, and that appear to him to have no conscious ideas, feelings, and choices, are relatively stable, uniform, and dependable in their modes of behavior. And now, abstracting from all the social and ethical sides of human experience, it is possible to regard merely the way that things behave, when either beyond all recognizable in- fluence from the behavior of men, or when left to themselves to follow their own natural ways of behavior. In this man- ner is formed the scientific picture of a Mechanism, in which every part is definitively limited, and strictly determined, not only as to the general course of its behavior, but also as to every minutest form of its movement, every slightest change in its own constitution, or in its relations to the great Whole. With what confidence and joy, then, does the mind that is determined to be thoroughgoing in its scientific con- clusions return, with this conception of a purely mechanical causation, to force it upon those very experiences of rational and purposeful choice, in which the beginnings of the con- ception are themselves to be found. Having interpreted phys- ical phenomena after the analogy of personal experience, with the most truly personal of the characteristics left out, science assumes completely and correctly to reinterpret personal experience after the analogy of a purely physical 186 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT mechanism. Surely here is a fine case of matricide ! The child, having learned bad manners in foreign lands, has come home to lay violent hands on his own mother. But the truth remains forever unshaken that all inter- pretation of experience is an affair of the human spirit, and that physical science itself is the construct of a rational and free will. The World of things is itself a quasi-personsil affair. As such it gives to the observer no reasonable ground for denying to those beings whose experience is of a fuller and completer personal life, the more essential characteristics of personality which they know themselves to have. And among these moral freedom is not the least important, or the least clearly and forcefully evinced. Repeated reference has been made, however, to a certain residuum of mystery, a trace or a large measure of the un- known, and the unknowable, to which every application of the principle of sufficient reason makes a tacit confession. Here is a consideration, to take account of which is very important for the philosophy of conduct. Let us begin with the case as the physical sciences deal with this principle. Suppose, for example, that I am searching for the cause of some chemical combination, and I am told that it is to be explained in the following way : the elements. A, B, C, D, under definite conditions, and, in definite proportions, N, M, have united according to the formula X Y. But now I will inquire : Why have these particular elements, J., etc., chosen to act and react in this particular manner, while — as we know — under similar conditions, other elements, such as E, -F, (7, and ZT, would behave in a markedly different way ? The only answer to the question Why ? in such a case must be found in the mysterious nature of A^ etc., and of E^ etc. But this is to say, that in all our explanations by means of the prin- ciple of sufficient reason, we leave certain factors unexplained. Nor is this true simply of those particular limitations of know- ledge which further investigation may remove. It is true MORAL FREEDOM 187 by virtue of the very nature of all human knowledge as dependent upon the principle of sufficient reason, with its assumption of real causes, and real effects. Suppose, next, that 1 am asking of biological science to explain, as fully as it can, some one of the simplest forms of life, — an amoeba, for example. At present, we can only tell how, according to its own nature^ this particular living form originates, develops, behaves, propagates its own kind, and ceases to exist. Suppose, however, that at some time the chemistry of life shall be so far advanced as to be able to ascribe all the changes in the amoeba, and its own con- stitution, and even all the constitution and the development of every living germ, to the potencies of the atoms, still the truth for which I am contending will remain essentially unchanged. Indeed, this truth will be made the more aston- ishingly obvious. The increased knowledge of what the atoms can do, will only render the final explanation of their original nature — the potentiality in which all actuality resides — tlie more profoundly mysterious, the more hopelessly un- knowable. There is little reason, then, for surprise that the nature of man — itself, in its depths, unknowable — must always be made to account for so much in explanation of the important part he plays in the drama of his own historical development. We find abundant reason for believing that he is not always determined, either from without, or as a piece of psychical mechanism, after the analogy of a physical machine. We find abundant reason for affirming that he is also self-de- termining — by nature potentially so, and in fact often be- coming actually so. And if the answer to such inquiries as. How can he have this mixed constitution which thus differ- ences him from all physical existences, and from the lower animals ? or. Whence comes this gift of moral freedom ? must remain unanswered, still the student of the philosophy of conduct need not be ashamed ; and he cannot be accused 188 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT of any peculiar isolation in his ignorance. In the name of philosophy, he may even make bold to answer: Such is apparently the decision of that Absolute Will and Reason in whose Being man, as well as all other existences, has his life and being.^ In the name of religion he may say : God knows how it can be, and God's will is the ultimate sufficient reason that it should be so. Finally, as the student of the philosophy of conduct makes over to Metaphysics and to the Philosophy of Religion the right and the duty to say whatever may remain to be said on the limits of human knowledge, and the possibility of a speculative solution of this mystery of moral freedom, he need feel no alarm at the cry that his view of human nature is injurious to the integrity of the physical or psycho-physical mechanism. The stars in their courses have greatly in- fluenced the development of man. The greater chains of physical causation are too rigid for finite beings to bend aside to any appreciable extent. But that man's will does largely change the face of external nature is simply a fact of daily experience. The physical mechanism in the midst of which he develops is more durable than steel where its own essen- tial integrity needs to be defended ; but it is as responsive in many particulars to human feelings, ideas, and choices, as is the most delicately constructed violin in the hands of its master. And to bring forward as an argument for Deter- minism the possible overthrow or the essential marring of the World-system, if moral freedom as involving self- determination in any virtual way be admitted, is to propose a speculative bugbear which any one, plain man or philosopher, may regard with a smile or pass by wholly unnoticed. 1 The way in which the criticism of the conceptions of Causation and of Freedom leads us back to the idea of that Absolute whom religion esteems a Personal God has been finely shown by the Russian philosopher, Professor N. la. Grot, in a treatise called " On Freedom of Will," a written translation of which is in my possession. CHAPTER IX THE MORAL SELF We are now prepared to see how extended and profound a significance psychological ethics imparts to the words which have been chosen for the heading of this chapter. They are synonymous with the entire nature of man when we regard him as equipped for conduct and for the development of character. In a word, the so-called "Moral Agent," is the Self, so constituted and actually in action as to form by volun- tary relations with other selves something quite different from a collection of interacting physical forces, or a herd of animals, or a mere multitude of human beings. As moral, the Self is a member of society ; and society is the product of the corre- lated conduct of a multitude of moral selves. With a some- what different but no less profound and important meaning than that which Aristotle gave to the saying, we may declare that Ethics thus becomes " a sort of political inquiry." From the full and correct picture of man's ethical endow- ment certain truths of a general import follow which need at least a brief mention before proceeding to the next main branch of our inquiry. One of these truths concerns the too narrow use of the word " conscience," — a use which has given rise to much not wholly fruitful (though by no means entirely unprofitable) discussion, and to no little practical embarrass- ment in the attempt to solve correctly the daily problems of right conduct. By all means " follow your conscience and keep it pure and good," has been the instruction and exhorta- tion of moralists in all ages and places of human development. 190 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT What, however, does it mean *' to follow one's conscience ; " — what precisely, that has a definitive application to the conduct of life, as well as to the attempt theoretically to assign correct values to the different forms of conduct ? Shall the appeal be made to unreasoned and unreasoning feeling, no matter how much crowned with sanctity on account of its associa- tions with early memories, religious ideas, or its seemingly original and unquestioned spontaneity ? In its cruder but not least intense and effective forms this may amount to a " feel- ing in the bones," or other bodily members, the heart, the veins, etc., as the language of men so significantly suggests. Or is it, on the other hand, consonant with the moral constitu- tion, and wholly safe, to instruct men to disregard those sen- timents of obligation and approbation which are, in respect of their attachment to certain definite forms of conduct, undoubtedly the results of education and social environment, and to leave each to " reason out for himself," on the basis of calculated consequences or in accordance with some abstract ethical theory (hedonism, e. g.), the forms of behavior which lie will adopt for his own ? Not infrequently, in practice, such instruction results in the formation of the disagreeable and self-conceited " crank," if not of the disorderly and danger- ous criminal. Will the kindly and humane impulses, as well as all the tendencies to a prompt resistance of evil and the indignant infliction of penalty for unrighteousness, be im- proved by submitting themselves to the control of intelligent and deliberate choice. Or shall indiscriminate kindness and so-called charity, because they evoke the feeling of obligation and obtain the reward of approbation, while still commending themselves to the ethical judgment of the majority of mankind, be excused from deferring to the most rational and illumined investigation ? Who can believe that the appeal to conscience as an ultimate authority can justify an affirmative answer to either of the last two inquiries ? The truth as it has been made apparent by our previous THE MORAL SELF 191 discussion, seems to be that conscience, as an authoritative guide to conduct, is synonymous with the total moral con- sciousness; and that moreover, this moral consciousness practically involves the entire distinctively human nature of man. Even thus understood, conscience provides no infalli- bility of authority. In his ethical, as well as in his more purely sentient and cognitive life and development, man has an outfit of capabilities which quite surpasses that of any of the lower animals. He is a really ethical Self — in feeling, intellect, and will ; and they are not even inchoate and unde- veloped ethical selves ; although they are, as man knows them, self-like in all their characteristics. Thus man is capable of self -conduct, of se^f-development. But neither in the form of " instinctive feeling," or of " innate idea," or of '' rational principle," or of spontaneous and impulsive or deliberate and intelligent " good will," has he an authoritative, in the mean- ing of an infallible, guide. The voice that is within liim is often feeble and uncertain ; it is always possible to dispute its authority, to gainsay its right, and to reject its rule. Just in this does man's imperfection and weakness, as well as his immorality and sinfulness consist. Nevertheless, this voice is the most precious possession he has, the most significant value of his whole existence. It is, indeed, entitled to be called "the voice of God." This voice calls man in every voluntary thought and feeling, and in every impulsive deed of will as well as every intelligent and deliberate choice, to strive after the realization of the ideal Self. Every form or particular exhibition of morally good conduct is — in however special and narrow a way — an item in this realization. The source of the authority of moral consciousness lies in the response of the actual Self to its own Ideal of self-hood. This is that authority of conscience which thus reveals to religion a rela- tion, that is dependent upon the total reaction of man's moral consciousness, between the human Self and God. We note then how comprehensive is the study of conscious- 192 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT ness as the source of ethical obligation, ethical relations and ethical development. The conception of the Moral Self includes all that descriptive and pragmatic psychology can discover and reveal respecting human nature, as well as all the sources for the most far-reaching and lofty conclusions of speculative philosophy. Moral self-hood is the all-inclusive nature of man. That all those activities of body and soul, whose stimuli and laws psycho-physics and psychology de- light to make plain, are concerned in man's conduct is too obvious to need proof. No so-called scientific picture of his nature is completely drawn nor is the final significance of his constitution understood, until he is seen to be con- sciously, and in the exercise of his birthright of moral free- dom adjusting himself to the morally right forms of actual relations to his fellow-men. Psychology, although it is pri- marily a study of the individual, plainly shows that he is constituted for society ; in social, that is, ethical relations, his entire being finds its supreme exercise, its most nearly complete satisfaction. The Self as fitted for conduct, and as actively engaged in the moral life, is the largest kind of a Self with which psychological science can deal. And all the in- vestigations of psychology — " new " or " old " — have a cer- tain unsatisfactory pettiness, if they do not somehow, either directly or indirectly, contribute to our knowledge of man considered as invested with the power to constitute and control himself in manifold social relations with his fellow- men. In spite of the incessant claims of psychological science to consideration for its own science' sake, we cannot avoid asking ourselves : " What matters it, how many sigmas it takes to react to this or that form of stimulus ; or, how the bonds of associated ideas are framed and broken; or, how intellect develops out of what appears to be, at first, a merely mechanical sequence of mental images ; unless, in- deed, all our investigation tends to give us more insight into the nature of that life, three-fourths, or seven-eighths of which THE MORAL SELF 193 is conduct having reference to social interests and to the realization of the ideals of the race ? " The psychology of the Moral Self includes all psychology, because the right and wrong of conduct compasses human life so inclusively, and because the values here concerned are so extensively present and so qualitatively supreme. In this connection the significance of recent studies of the individual as psychically shaped by his social environment becomes apparent. Here two equally mistaken and danger- ous extremes are to be avoided. They are alike unscientific in their disregard of each other's interests, however pertinent and helpful may be the positive suggestions of truth to which they succeed in calling the attention of the age. Properly speaking, there is no such consciousness as '' social conscious- ness " and no such existence as a social individual. But if by the phrase we mean the individual man as influenced by his social environment, then we may say : The Moral Self encompasses the Social Self ; and it is only by a clear conception of what is included in the former term that one can correctly estimate and discreetly judge the significance of what is often so vaguely connotated by the latter term. Of the two extreme views upon the subject one tends to sink the personality of the individual man in the indiscriminate mass of his social surroundings ; the other tends to press so far the independence of the individual as to depreciate or neglect the influence of these surroundings. It is impossible for a true person to exist or to develop outside of a social en- vironment. Against both these extremes the preceding analysis and discussion of man's moral self-hood has both warned us and provided us with a sufficient safeguard. In the lower stages of ethical development the individual is, indeed, to a large extent the product of his social environ- ment. He feels himself obligated to do that which this environment, by silent custom, or by spoken and written precept, or by more solemn priestly and legal decree, has 13 194 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT decided for him to be the right thing to do. He is a depend- ent piece of the ethico-social mechanism. In all times and places very largely, and in some times and places almost universally (as, for example, even now in India), this " right thing" to do which the social environment enforces is, for the multitudes, not at all what flesh desires or heart craves. Only for the favored few are the pleasant and the morally good things of life coincident in the view of the ethical authorities ; among the millions the Social Self is either the unhappy or the morally bad Self, when viewed from the stand- point of the prevalent ethics. But as the truly Moral Self undergoes development, — or rather, I might almost be permitted to say, comes into being, — it wins more of that independence of judgment and of action which is essential to any considerable approach toward a realization of the moral ideal. Thus the conduct of the individual more and more freely takes up into, and incorporates with itself that rational regard for social considerations which stands at an extreme both from the blindly affective and unthinking acceptance of the social standards of conduct and also from the intelligent and deliberate but immoral departure from those standards. A social being, in some sort, man might be, if he had no other equipment for the life of the community than a superior amount of those characteristics which belong to the lower animals, — if, in a word, he were not a Moral Self. But although in such a case he might be, in some conceivable meaning of the word, " social," he could not be a social self. It is man's moral equipment, the essential potentialities of his individual personality, which makes him capable of form- ing a true human society. These potentialities, society, whether considered as an environment or as a continuous self-propagat- ing force, can in some sort develop, but can never originate or impart. The philosophy of religion has its theory as to whence come the germs of that moral self-hood which includes the true social self-hood. Neither ethnology nor psychology THE MORAL SELF 196 can inform us on this point. Or, rather, properly speaking, there is no such reality for these sciences as a social Self ; the term is but a figure of speech, fitly enough designed, it may be, to remind one that the individual man could never be, or develop into a true personality were it not for the constant and most potent influence of other personal beings. When, however, ethics speaks intelligently of the Moral Self, it sums up in this term all that is true of the other term, and much more. And, moreover, ethics is using no figure of speech to endanger the understanding and the application of its terms, as do psychology and ethnology when they speak of " social selves," *' social organisms," etc. For the Moral Self of ethics is the concrete reality of the individual man, regarded as equipped for the life of conduct and for the development of character, in certain definite relations with other selves equipped in substantially like manner. Were he not moral, man could not be social in the highest meaning of the word ; and the very idea of morality as applied to man implies his existence, activity, and development in the midst of society. I repeat : Moral selves constitute a true society ; but social influences can never, of themselves, constitute or explain the existence or the total development of moral selves. The conception of the Moral Self contains within it the germinal thoughts and suggestions for a philosophy of the Ideal as well as of that to which science is so ready, some- times quite too exclusively, to attribute the title of Reality ; in this conception, therefore, must be found the data for reconciling all that belongs to man's scientific tendencies, standards, and pursuits, and also his judgments of that which has value, his higher sentiments, the longings and obligations which bind him to an ideal Good. How to effect this reconciliation is, indeed, the burning question of this as of every other age ; but it is the imperative and most difficult problem of this age beyond all other ages. No reconciliation 196 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT can be accepted for longer than a brief breathing-spell in the hot chase after the final and satisfying truth, which leaves man divided into two incommunicable and unrelated parts, two spheres of interest and experience. Science, on the one hand, and ethics, art, and religion, on the other hand, cannot be allotted separate fields in the domain of human nature. No form of the dichotomy of man's being which has ever been devised, or that can ever possibly be devised, will long remain satisfactory. We cannot make the feeling and imagination responsible for faiths which run contrary to scientific con- clusions that are forced upon us by the unfeeling and unim- aginative intellect. We cannot believe in Ideals, whether of conduct, or of beauty or of worship, which contravene the known principles of E-eality ; neither can we know what those principles of Reality are, in their highest potency and com- pletest significance, without crediting for their discovery and their explication, the authority of ethical, artistic, and religious Ideals. The Ideal and the Real must he a Living Unity. The fundamental reasons for dissatisfaction with the demand of religion and ethics that we should believe and practise that which science condemns or doubts are not to be found in the undoubted weakness of the arguments of either of the two contending parties. The moral reformer, the artist, or the inspired seer, and the man of scientific claims and culture, are, as a rule, about equally partisan, equally insufficient as to information and illogical in reasoning, when they fall out with each other over the ultimate problems of existence and of human life. The fundamental reasons why they can neither of them be accorded a full satisfaction are deep-set and ineradicable in the nature of them both. These reasons lie in the same unity of human Self-hood which is common to them both. You cannot array man against himself. A schis- matic psychology is the original heresy, the root of all other schisms. Reason and Science so-called must listen appreciat- ingly to the feeling and judgment in their loving estimate THE MORAL SELF 197 of that which has value ; and ethical, aesthetical, and religious ideas and sentiments must make themselves rational and ao» cordant with the truths of science. The possibility and the necessity for such a reconciling process are discoverable in the very nature of cognition and of the cognitive mind.^ It is, however, the conception of man's moral being which shows how a reconciliation may be effected between the claims of science and the claims of ethical, aesthetical, and religious sentiment and idealization. For all science itself is the pur- suit and the product of the Moral Self. When we compre- hend the entire extent of the ethical sphere and the full content of ethical principles and ethical ideals, scientific pursuits themselves become matters of conduct ; and the scien- tific Truth itself attains to the condition where it has value in its relations to the life of conduct. The patience, candor, exactness of observation and carefulness of testing and atten- tion to logical completeness, upon which scientific method so much insists, are an ethical procedure. These are the peculiar virtues of the man of science, quoad scientific. If his virtues in society, or on Sunday, are quite different from these, or even if the more conspicuously social and religious virtues are lacking, his work-a-day and laboratory excellences are of a truly moral sort. The moral self-hood must go into any man's science or it is not his science at all. Why, from the merely scientific point of view, should the human mind attach any idea of worth to truth or to its dis- covery ? The animals, which are only partial selves and not really moral selves at all, give not — so far as I am aware — the slightest distinguishable token of regarding the acquire- ment of knowledge as a matter of ideal significance. They never exclaim : " I read thy thoughts after thee, God ; " nor do they strut about with the appearance of a conscious pridef of possessing an ideal good as they do show pride in the suc- 1 This thought has been anticipated and wrought out in its preliminary aspects in my work on the " Philosophy of Knowledge." 198 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT cessful strife for sensuous goods. It is only a moral nature that feels the obligation, by a virtuous and painstaking self-denial, to attain the facts in each case ; that appreciates in a quasi- ethical way the success of all scientific efforts ; and that regards the Truth as worthy of being thus striven after, because — somehow or other — belonging to the domain of the " in-itself-Good." Therefore, the more highly science estimates itself for its own self's sake, the more does it testify to the value of human conduct in the pursuit of an ideal Good. And inasmuch as the man who enters upon or pursues a so-called scientific career with an obvious regard only for his own selfish interests and an obvious disregard of the interests of " the cause of science," or " the public welfare," or " society at large," is blamed if not execrated for his badness morally, it is evident that the ideal interests of ethics are, in however indirect and concealed fashion, nevertheless supreme. One cannot, indeed, maintain that every failure to attain and state the truth of fact or of principle is blameworthy ; or that every manner and form of telling the truth is justifiable ; but the highly significant fact is this : It is the ethical nature of man which makes him appreciate the value of the end at which science aims, as well as the morally worthy features of the mind's activity in pur- suit of this end. Only the Moral Self is fitted to regard truth, and the effort to know truth, as an essential part of the ideal Good. Thus science becomes merged in the perfection of that supreme moral Ideal which is a society of moral selves. In the language of religion : The Kingdom of Truth becomes identical — reconciled — with the Kingdom of Heaven, or the ideal social community of morally perfect selves. This dis- tinctly ethical way of regarding man's relation to all conceiv- able truth, which physical science appreciates only as the proper attitude of its students toward Nature, is, of course, only a hint toward the most profound and satisfying reconciliation of the ideas and judgments of worth with the spirit and achieve- THE MORAL SELF 199 ments of the scientific mind. But it is, at least, a hint in the right direction. The later speculative endeavors of ethics are surely bound to return again to the suggestion, and to carry the suggestion out to its rational conclusion in a declaration of peace between the domain of the Real in fact and the Ideals that have value for the moral life. In all the foregoing analyses I have coupled ethics with aesthetics and religion as belonging, with them, to the same sphere of the Ideal. I have also spoken as though all the inconsistencies and seeming contradictions which exist, in fact and in the history of the race, between the ideals of conduct and the ideals of art and religion must find their reconcile- ment in the conception of the perfect Moral Self. With certain qualifications this is true. The interests and the ideals of art are by no means always obviously identical — not to say, reconcilable — with the interests of morality and tho ideals of conduct. Neither can we in an offhand way force into coincidence the apparently diverging lines of ethical and of religious opinions, practices, and development. But, for all this, the conception of the Moral Self remains the most widely inclusive which the mind can form of human nature ; and when expanded to its widest legitimate limits, this con- ception includes the suggestions necessary for reconciling all the conflicts amongst these three classes of ideals and of ideal values. Only this qualification must be added : — so far as the formation and the realization of the Ideal depends upon human conduct under any conceivable social relations. The analysis of the moral consciousness has already shown us how many elements are common to it with that form of consciousness with which men greet the Beautiful, as well as with those closely allied forms of thought and feeling which lead to the life of religious worship and of obedience to God. Indeed, fche artistic nature and the ethical nature of man have so many roots in common that it is difficult to separate them without stopping the flow of vital sap into both the life 200 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT of conduct and the life of beauty. And it is only necessary to spread the mantle of one great Idea over the conception of ethics in order to give a religious signification and an " other- worldly " radiance to the whole subject. The somewhat un- couth compound " ethico-religious " is indicative of a profundity of experience as great as that in which such phrases as the " Beauty of Holiness," and eine schone Seele, have their origin. In trying also to comprehend what, in essence, is common to all the kinds of the "• in-itself-Good," and yet to keep some- how distinct the good of beauty, the morally good, and the All-Good, we found ourselves encompassed with the same Unity in variety. The metaphysics which grows out of such ex- periences belongs either to the more speculative part of ethics, or to aesthetics, or, finally, to the philosophy of religion. But the student of ethics must not fail at this point to feel the full weight of the impression that man is fitted and obligated to seek the Goods of art, and of religion ; that the attainment of these ideal ends is, at least in a limited way, dependent upon his own conduct, both that of the individual and that of the race ; and that in the general movement of human society, what is achieved for the better appreciation and finer representation of the beautiful in nature and in human life as well as all the grow- ing knowledge of God and the improved adjustment of human relations to Him, and, for His sake, of men to one another, is an integral part of the ethical development of the race. All this lies within the sphere of human conduct. And man is capable of it, responsible for it, successful or unsuccessful in it, only because he is a Moral Self, Those great principles, however, which are true for the other main branches of philosophy are also true for the phi- losophy of conduct. These principles, as I have elsewhere^ said, group themselves about " two comprehensive concep- tions which seem to us to be shaping the thought and the conduct of the present age. They are, of course, not new, 1 A Theorj of Reality, p. 31. THE MORAL SELF 201 either in their total complexion or in any of their more important factors, otherwise they could not be so compre- hensive and influential as they are. But they are receiving new and enlarged meanings; they are made to serve more extended and illumining uses. These are the conception of Evolution, of the principle of becoming, and the conception of Self-hood, especially as having its roots in, and as reaching out into, social connections." It is enlarged and truer notions of Personality and of Development which are sought by the reflective thinking of the age. When, then, such fulness of significance and range of influence are claimed for the conception of the Moral Self, it must not be imagined that any of the legitimate rights of the other conception, the conception of Evolution, are iti- vaded or denied. The history of morals, and the current opinions and practices of the time, as well as all the most profound and comprehensive of ethical principles, cannot be understood without giving due influence to both these conceptions. TTie Moral Self, in a process of Development toward the Social Ideal, — this complex of conceptions con- tains the whole domain of investigation for the student of ethics. What is the essential nature of the subject of con- duct, the ethical being of man ? It is moral self-hood ; it has already been described. But for every individual man, and for the whole race of men, conduct is some sort of a career ; it is subject to the principle of continuity ; it is a matter of history, and of the growth from beginnings toward ends, in the ongoing of time; it is something which can neither be described, nor even be conceived of, except as the individual is regarded in his physical, and especially in his social environment. The principle of Evolution applies, then, in ethics ; but in no superficial or merely external way. The Moral Self is a life growth, and so subject — although on its own special terms, as it were — to a continuous development. Here, however, must the word of caution be uttered which 202 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT is confirmed by an analysis of the individual man, as well as by a study of the history of the individual and, so far as possible, of the race. The equipment which makes man capable of conduct at all, and which furnishes his first incitement to strive after the ethical ideal, as well as the feelings and resulting judgments that evaluate conduct, can never itself be accounted for as the mechanical resultant of an evolutionary process. The conception of endowment is the only one which will meet the facts in the case. The psycho- logical study of the moral nature is competent to decide this question for the individual man of to-day ; and such study does decide it. Ethnological study is not competent to give us the complete and trustworthy picture of the moral nature of the so-called '' primitive man." It will probably, in spite of many interesting details which await observation respect- ing the customs and ethical opinions of rude and barbarous tribes, never be in a position to guarantee such a picture. But, as Wundt has well said : The one incontestable fact in this field of uncertainty and conjecture is that "however far back we push historical inquiry, and however low the stage of civiliza- tion that we choose for observation, mankind appears always and everywhere as subject to the same good and evil impulses which constitute to-day the sources of its happiness and misery." 1 Moreover, we may claim with equal confidence that man always and everywhere appears as giving a prefer- ence, for their own inherent value, to some kinds of conduct rather than to others ; as feeling the bond of obligation which ties him to his fellows with common rights and reciprocal duties ; and as appreciating those who voluntarily recognize the sacredness of this bond for their superior worth when compared with tliose who, in the pursuit of their own pleasure, or in the avoidance of pains for themselves, prove recreant to this bond. And if biology, invading the proper field of ethnology, and of history, and making bold to contradict all 1 Ethics, I, p. 127. THE MORAL SELF 208 the conclusions of psychological ethics, chooses to please itself with the speculative conception of an ancestral, non- moral man, the student of ethics must, on the one hand, confess his total ignorance of the existence of any such being, and, on the other hand, must insist upon the obvious truth that such a being is not capable of conduct at all, is not man in any meaning which ethics can attach to the word. In any event, ethics does not deal with beings that are not already, potentially, moral selves ; it finds itself compelled to take as its essential datum, the endowment of moral self-hood, as this endowment has already been described. But after discovering and comprehending in a measure, the significance of this datum, ethics welcomes, because ethics imperatively needs, the conception of Evolution. This con- ception, as quite certainly applying both to the individual man, and also to the race, it expands and illustrates on the basis of experience in somewhat the following way. The three factors of feeling, ideation, and volition, enter into all the behavior and the development of man considered as a Moral Self. In the individual, and in the race, three stages of development may be, somewhat vaguely, and yet on the whole satisfactorily, distinguished as characterizing the life of humanity. The first and lowest grade of action which can be called conduct — or, at least, can be said to contain the germ of conduct — combines the idea of an action with a feeling of ought or ought-not, with reference to that action, and an estimate of worth or unworthiness for the person performing the action. In this complex, and often confused state of consciousness, which is always of necessity more or less painful or pleasurable, the moral life of man has its birth. The whole affair is concrete and individual, a here- and-now fact of experience which, as a conscious process, looks neither backward nor forward for its sanctions. In the second stage of ethical development, that which 204 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT was entirely concrete and individual, has become in some measure generalized and universal ; but the same factors characterize this stage, although modified in form of mani- festation according to those general laws which control the entire progress of the mental life. And now the improved discriminating consciousness, acting upon an acquired wealth of experience, estimates two or more actions with reference, either to their consequences, or to their seemingly inherent moral characteristics, approves of one, and disapproves of others, chooses and resolves in a way to bring into clearer consciousness the feeling of moral freedom ; and thus the man takes the necessary steps in the formation of virtuous or vicious habits. By repeated actions of this sort, virtuous or vicious habits are actually formed, and the character- istically good or bad quality of the Moral Self becomes determined. As I have already shown, during this second stage of evolution, the social influences are most directly powerful ; although they operate with little accompaniment, for the most part, of any attempt to subject these influences them- selves to a more purely ethical testing, by comparing them with ideals that appear to have for the enlightened conscious- ness a higher value than the current judgments and customs of society. Beyond this second stage, most men for the most part do not attempt to go. And for the multitudes of men everywhere, and in all times, this amount of ethical advance is usually satisfactory. Indeed, in the less highly civilized communities, through lack of the stimulus of in- tellectual and aesthetical as well as of ethical ideals, and also on account of an unfavorable physical and social environment, much progress beyond this stage is usually impossible, or at least extremely difficult. Yet vague glimpses of some- thing more beyond and higher up in that scale of being by which the evolution of human morality is measured, come to the eyes and ears even of the multitude. Especially are such THE MORAL SELF 206 glimpses given to them in their religious experiences. The right behavior toward the gods, is conceived of as something better and nobler than the best of the actions decreed to be right by human society. If only men were gods, and dwelt with them in their more favorable surroundings, their ideals of conduct might be still loftier by far, and yet without transcending the possibilities of that moral freedom which is so strictly limited as their possession under existing cir- cumstances. Let it, then, at least be an ideal which shall bring some further unification into human lives, so to con- duct them as perchance, by and by, to go and live the diviner life in its more favorable environment. And so, with all souls in some manner, and with some few souls in a most blessed and glorious manner, the last stage in the evolution of the Moral Self is reached. The various ideas of what is always and everywhere right — right here and under such circumstances, and right there and under differing circumstances — are gathered, or rather (more frequently) gather themselves, into some shape of an Ideal. Under its influence the originally segregated, and somewhat spasmodic feelings of oughtness become unified; they develop into a more constant feeling of obligation, often passionate and yet rational, to strive as far as possible to realize for ourselves and for others this grand conception. Thus it comes about, that the entire practical life of the individual falls pro- gressively under the controlling influence of the distinctively ethical ideas, and ethical emotions. The essential factors and prominent aspects of such a devotion may remain the same amidst a number of forms in which the Ideal assumes more definite outlines, and in spite of a great variety of concrete habits of action under varying conditions and changes in the social environment. This Ideal may be the idea of a so-called " moral law," or the idea of a perfected personality, or the idea of the Divine Will ; or it may be some yet more inclusive form of a social constitution. With 206 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT one good man the object which seems worthy of commanding him may be conceived of as an impersonal principle, an unselfish and unswerving obedience to which is recognized as summing up the entire obligation of man. With another, the conception of an infinitely worthy personal Being, in whose personal characteristics they may share who make the attainment of this ideal the object of their life endeavor, may be substituted for the conception of an impersonal principle. With another, the perfectibility, by human efforts, of society seems to furnish the good to strive for which with the stren- uous life, is the whole duty of him who would attain the supreme moral Good. Each of these, and all other forms of defining that Ideal which is the perfect satisfaction and permanent source of inspiration for the development of moral Self-hood, is quite likely to be marred by deficiencies, or to include subordinate elements which would better be left out. The possibility of a sound speculative treatment of this Ideal will come before us for discussion later on. But I wish now to call attention to the truth that the very attempt to form any ideal of conduct in so comprehensive and lofty a fashion, and to place the ideal upon a basis of experience, while admitting the necessity for trusting the better sentiments and the artistic imagination, marks a high stage in the moral evolution of mankind. But the Moral Ideal is itself the subject of Evolution, — necessarily so, for it is the mental construct of the Moral Self, and therefore dependent for its very excellence upon the stage in its own moral development which the constructing mind has reached. And moral development here includes all kinds of development; for they all are dependent in a measure upon man's own conduct; and man's conduct is the sphere of morality. In reaching this conclusion, however, I have already gone far in advance of the position where the facts of psychological ethics can be confidently relied upon to I THE MORAL SELF 207 defend me. We must, then, return to the study of experience from another allied but different point of view, and consider what habits of conduct men have agreed to call " virtuous," what " vicious," and how one may explain, justify, and properly apply such terms as these. i PAET SECOND THE VIRTUOUS LIFE 14 " And lie shall he like a tree planted hy the rivers of water ^ that hringeth forth his fruit in his season ; his leaf also shall not wither / and whatsoever he doeth shall prosper.^* Psalm, i. 3. CHAPTER X CLASSIFICATION OF THE VIRTUES One of the most suggestive of ethical facts is the pertinacity with which men everywhere cling to a certain twofold divi- sion of the kinds of conduct. All conduct is in their judgment to be esteemed either good or bad, either worthy of approba- tion because it is right, or of disapproval and ill-desert on account of its quality of being wrong. Hence those habits of action which belong to the one class are called virtues ; and the virtues have their corresponding opposites, the so-called vices of mankind. This distinction persists everywhere and under all conditions of moral evolution, in spite of all attempts to minimize or explain it away. To its significant truth and exceeding worth in determining all manner of human interests, the language, the customs, and the ethical opinions of men bear an indisputable witness. It is true that increasing culture usually makes the mind, within certain limits, less prompt and self-confident in pro- nouncing upon the genuine qualities of particular cases of conduct. Quite too frequently it is ignorance or self-con- ceit which appropriates the title of " virtue " to one's own favored forms of behavior, and then assigns the opprobrious term of a vice to all departures from these forms. Especially does this appear to be true when we consider that all human means for testing the real qualities of conduct are so uncertain. In the case of others, particularly, the chances of mistake are threefold. There is, first, the chance which comes from the uncertain character of the sign to be interpreted. For 212 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT example : did the attempted assassin of the Shah of Persia, in Paris, in the summer of 1900, at the precise moment when he pulled the trigger of the pistol still intend to com- mit murder, and was his failure due solely to a defect in the weapon ; or did he at the last instant falter in purpose and thus make an ethically incomplete event of the final result? The expert in weapons can give only a probable answer to such a question, even when he has carefully exam- ined the condition of the pistol and considered the external behavior of the assassin. But there is, second, the chance of mistake which comes from a defective or a prejudiced mind on the part of him who attempts the task of ethical interpretation. How difficult it is for the ordinary Occidental to estimate duly the virtues and the vices of the Orient ; for the Anglo-Indian to understand the Hindu, the German the Chinese, and the American the Filipino ! There is also, third, the special chance of failure to which even those best fitted to estimate conduct are always liable ; and which comes from the quite generally complicated and subtle character of the thing to be estimated. Finally, we are reminded that all individual men, and all tribes and conditions of human kind, have their own somewhat peculiar virtues and vices ; moreover that the virtues of one are esteemed the vices of another, and that the standards of virtue and vice are changeable from place to place and from age to age. Such considerations as the foregoing must undoubtedly be taken into the account by any one who would draw a correct picture of the Virtuous Life as it is displayed and estimated in the moral evolution of the race. But they do not in the least alter the significance or impair the value of this dis- tinction in the kinds of conduct. For the fundamental fact is that men universally make the distinction somehow ; and that the distinction is always a twofold distinction. The distinction itself is always, therefore, a germinal theory of virtue, — an attempt, to appreciate the implications of which CLASSIFICATION OF THE VIRTUES 213 is an introduction to a valid opinion, based upon universal experience, as to the true nature of virtue and its opposite. It is, as well, a valuable hint for the application of the theory of virtue to the practice of the virtues. In order, however, to form inductively a theory of the virtues and vices it would be desirable, if possible, to begin by taking the distinction of good (or virtuous) and bad (or vicious) habits of conduct as it is found expressed in its lowest and, therefore, most unsatisfactory terms. Here all is vague and apparently confused ; but it is spontaneous, naive, and so the more valuable for the student of the philosophy of the moral life. One does not need, however, to rummage the field of ethnological facts with a view to discover precisely how many distinguishable virtues, how many vices, have re- ceived recognition by the whole race of mankind in all places of its existence and all stages of its development. To consult philology as to the origin and meaning of the different words which have stood for the idea of virtue in general or for the particular virtues would, doubtless, be a more reward- ing task. We may, with sufficient accuracy for our purpose, summarize the net results of both these lines of investigation in the following statements. And, first, as to the essential meaning of the words for virtue in general and for the par- ticular virtues : they all evince some form of embodying the thought that certain ways of doing things are entitled to be considered preferable, more excellent, better, or best. To the unreflecting human consciousness, this does not seem to mean so much that it is better for a man to be virtuous than not to be virtuous ; it, the rather, seems to mean that to be virtuous is to be the better, or the best, as respect one's conduct and character. In what respect " better " or by virtue of what peculiar advantages or special characteristics "best"? — this is a question about the answer to which the words that express the different particular virtues, do not, of themselves, by any means always clearly pronounce. Where, 214 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT however, they do reveal the subtler thought and finer feeling that is in them, they call attention to the existence in human consciousness of an ethical Ideal. The indeterminate but important answer which the instinc- tive expression of human thought gives to inquiry into the conception of the virtuous life is therefore this : The virtues are the habitual modes of the conduct of the person who is the better, the best, the most worthy and admirable, the noblest man. If then we ask : " In what sense are courage, constancy, justice, wisdom, kindness, generosity, better than cowardice, fickleness, injustice, folly, cruelty, meanness?" the answer is : " These are the ways of the behavior of the ' better ' men.'* Or, to translate into terms which further investigation must justify more fully : In the thought of mankind, the virtues are those habitual forms of conduct which realize the conception of the better and nobler Self. All naming of the virtues indicates a " constant and especial attention to the praiseworthy features of human personality." The virtuous man is the good man ; virtue is manliness and steadfastness of character ; it is the best, because the fittest and noblest thing for a man to have.^ In the second place, the philosophy of conduct may borrow from ethnology the conclusion which rests upon its induction of facts : There are many startling divergencies from the opinions, now current among the most ethically advanced communities, as to the correct list of the virtues ; but these divergencies do not destroy, they rather make more impressive 1 Thus the Greeks used ayaQ6s to indicate the most manly personal characteris- tics, — especially, bravery in battle for the state and nobility of bearing. Virtus in Latin emphasized the same traits of good manliness. The connection of the English and German words for " good " with the German Gatte indicates the emphasis which these languages place upon personal " fitness " in the virtuous life. In Greek, again, virtue {dperi]) =that which, for a man, is best (Hpiarros). But the man is bad and vicious, he is no man worthy to be called a man, who is lacking in these fundamental qualifications. And where the influence of allied religious conceptions is distinctly felt, the idea of stain and defilement becomes more emphatic. The bad man has a darkened and soiled Selfhood. In Latin malus, and in Greek fxe\as (black), and in Sanskrit malas (from ma/am, dirt), seem to incorporate this way of thinking. CLASSIFICATION OF THE VIRTUES 215 a certain fundamental agreement. They are due chiefly to differences of emphasis, differences of application in depend- ence upon the existing physical and social environment, and differences in those wide-spreading moral and spiritual ten- dencies which, for lack of a more scientific account of their origin, we are often compelled to refer to as the " Spirit of the Age." If, however, one accepts the most general and unpreju- diced estimate, and especially if one consults the opinions of the most thoughtful and pure-minded, one finds a substantial uniformity of view as to the leading characteristics of the proper life for man. Courage, constancy, justice, wisdom, kindness, generosity, — these and other allied forms of the behavior of the manlier man, of the better Self, have always been esteemed to be ethically preferable to the opposite forms of behavior; they have always been accounted among the fundamental virtues. In a word : the one persistent utterance of moral instruction has been, " Yet show I unto you a more excellent way ; " and, in the various forms of energizing which necessarily belong to every individual man in his social rela- tions to other men, the different distinguishable virtues are the different allied forms of following this " more excellent way." The relation of a preliminary classification of the virtues to the ends aimed at by a philosophy of conduct may, therefore, be described in the following way. We wish to discover the essential characteristics of the Virtuous Life ; — and this both with a view to understand such a life and also to acquaint ourselves with the proper way to lead it. For the philosophy of conduct, although it deals so largely with a theory of values that are rather obscurely and changefully incorporated into an experience of facts, has its own supreme value as the trust- worthy guide to actual right conduct. Ethics, considered as the scientific study of conduct, must introduce its student to the art of living virtuously. All the human estimates of virtue depend upon an experience involving ideas of value ; and these values are all realizable only in the life of the 216 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT better, the Ideal Self. But ethics is, of course, not satisfied to leave the current conceptions of the different virtues and duties so indefinite in number and so disconnected in prin- ciple. It aims to reduce them to allied species, to distinguish the more fundamental and inclusive, and, if possible, to bring them all under some one principle or idea. In its effort to accomplish this it must avail itself of the scientific method of classification and of reflective criticism with a view to unify its results. Perhaps the most common mistake made by writers on ethics is to force a unification by exalting some one virtue or some one aspect of the virtuous life to a position of exclusive supremacy. But such a method inevitably results in several theoretical and practical evils : (1) The misinterpretation of the terms used by men generally to express the different virtues ; (2) a narrowing of the conception of the morally most worthy manhood, either by leaving out of it certain virtuous traits, or by underestimating the value of certain aspects of the ideal of manliness ; (3) a loss of roundness and harmony to the idea of the good man, which results from making him " over-good " on some sides (" too good for this world," as the somewhat misleading, yet expressive popular phrase would say) ; and (4) an excessive abstractness, — the completion of the task of describing the total Virtuous Life in terms that cannot be translated into the concrete linea- ments and full-blooded structure of a living organism. I would not have it forgotten then, that the truly virtuous life is the life of the whole man, body and soul, with all his appetites, passions, desires, and affections, involving all his capacities and constitutional or acquired forms of activity — the total human being, feeling, intellect, and will. How, more precisely, shall one describe the virtuous, the morally good man ; — the man who performs all his duties, and possesses and exercises all the virtues? Shall one be satisfied to say : He is the man who does now this, now that; CLASSIFICATION OF THE VIRTUES 217 and who refrains from doing this on such an occasion, and on another occasion from doing that ? Or may one affirm : He is the man who is courageous, constant, just, wise, kind, and generous ; and who practises whatever other ways of conduct- ing himself are to be recognized as virtuous by the social judgment of his fellow-men ? ^ Or can one make a more general summary and rest satisfied with this : He is the bene- volent man, the man of good will ? On the answer which is given to these questions must depend in large measure the subsequent answer to the more speculative inquiry after the nature of the Right and the relation in which the human Moral Self and the social order of humanity stand to the order of the Universe and to the so-called " World-Ground." In almost all attempts at stricter classification, in accord- ance with recognized scientific methods, the selection of a satisfactory principle of classification is a difficult task. In the scientific treatment of complex psychical phenomena, or of attitudes and aspects of the entire man as related to life and to reality, it is particularly difficult to find such a helpful principle. But when it is proposed to reduce to scientific ordering the voluntary adoption of ideas of value, in order to 1 The following list of virtues was written out at my request on consultation by- two persons who are intelligent about matters of current morality and yet with- out technical knowledge of psychological ethics : — " Temperance, patience, cleanliness, kindliness, good temper, unselfishness, thoughtfulness, justness, truthfulness, courage (moral and physical), righteousness, piety, uprightness, forgiveness, purity, orderliness, sobriety, industry, perseverance, faithfulness, love to neighbor, honesty, chastity, adaptability (?), cheerfulness, prudence, self- control, charity, hopefulness." The redundancy from one point of view and deficiency from another point of view, the lack of coordination, the comparative narrowness of some of these so-called virtues and the vast range over the " springs of action " which belongs to others of every such popular list are at once apparent to the trained student of psychology. But these same qualifications belong also to most of the lists which have been adopted by writers on the prin- ciples of morality. Even in the case of Martineau's careful and elaborate analysis of the " springs of action " with a view to a critical " Idiopsychological Ethics " (Part II, Book i. of the "Types of Ethical Theory"), it is difficult to make sure of agreement with the author, both as to the completeness of his analysis and also as respects the relation in which these primary and secondary springs of action stand to the different virtues and vices. 218 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT place these ideas in control over all the varied and shifting springs of action, under every variety of the physical and social environment to which man's evolution is subject, then the selection of a principle of classification is supremely difficult. Here the principle is necessarily defined by the nature of man himself — his total nature, including all the ends of Good he seeks — in his physical, mental, and social development. The operative principle, in actuality, is the unity in variety of a Moral Self, freely adjusting itself to the changing relations which it sustains, as a member of a society of moral selves. Divisions of the virtues like that, for example, of M. Janet,^ into '''devoirs stricts^^ and '' devoirs larges^^ need not occupy our attention ; for they can only serve the temporary purpose of introducing dispute over certain subordinate problems in applied ethics. And these problems, so far as I intend to treat of them at all, will more fitly come up in other con- nections. The classification into self-regard ing virtues and social virtues is more worthy of consideration. This division is not infrequently, and always with a certain plausibility, employed to show how virtue can be evolved from that which is non- virtuous, or even vicious ; how the morally good can come out of the ethically neutral, if not the ethically evil. It is a divi- sion of the virtues which is based upon the relations sustained between the motives for conduct and certain clearly conceived personal interests which are chosen as ends. The motive for some of the virtues is the end of good for myself ; the motive for others of the virtues is the end of good, for others. I have myself to look out for, — my own life, health, and happiness to secure ; my own appetites, instincts, passions, and desires are in part self-regarding " springs of action." To conserve these self-regarding interests intelligently is right; and the different ways of doing this constitute, when they are volun- 1 La Morale, liv. II. chap. iii. CLASSIFICATION OF THE VIRTUES 219 tary and habitual, the different so-called self-regarding virtues. But I have also a certain part in society to play, — in the family, the tribe, the clan, the circle of comrades and friends with their opponents and enemies, if not in tlie larger com- munity of the state, the nation, or the whole world of men. And I am constituted a social being, with appetites, instincts, passions, desires, and affections of a social kind. These latter, when voluntarily and habitually made reasonable and intelli- gent, become the social virtues. The two classes of virtues, when both are faithfully practised, fill up the whole orb of the virtuous man's life ; he who has them both in full measure is the ideally good person. Now it cannot be denied that some of the many so-called springs of action do have a more direct and forceful influence upon the conduct of the individual as related to the interests of the individual self. Cleanliness, temperance, purity, in- dustry, and prudence, as well as fortitude in resistance to all hostile attacks upon the immediate interests of one's own bodily and mental life, are excellent forms of behavior, neces- sary habits for him who would lead the ideally good human life. And so are kindliness, honesty, justice, pity, chastity, — words which have no meaning except on the supposition that the individual man is acting in social relations with others, and is shaping his conduct with their interests as well as his own in view. Moreover, both from the theoretical and from the practical points of view, he who has no regard for the cultivation of the excellences of the ideal Self in the con- crete case of his own individual life — that which is nearest to him and most immediately, in all ordinary cases, under his control — cannot be an efficient doer of the socially right things ; and to turn the statement about, he who disregards the practice of the so-called social virtues thereby shows a woful disregard of his own higher and more worthy Self. It might be objected to this classification (so Sidgwick) that it involves a premature and illogical denial of all the claims 220 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT of every form of intuitionism ; or, more forcefully, that it takes the spontaneity of ethical feeling, as well as the value of disposition and of habits of conduct, out of the sphere of ethics altogether. But there are objections to urge which are much more comprehensive and conclusive. They arise when- ever one considers those psychological conditions on which, and those psychological principles according to which, the very conception of a Self lias its origin and development ; and they are greatly reinforced whenever one reflects upon the philosophical implications which the distinction itself is de- signed to support. Especially emphatic are these objections to this distinction between the self-regarding and the social virtues when it is applied to the nature and the qualifications of man's- moral life. For, in the first place, it is chiefly as the distinction between one's self and others is made, only to be disregarded and broken down, that tlie moral life of the human being enters upon its course of development. The very birth, so to say, of the moral Self, involves in some sort the voluntary abrogation of this distinction. In saying this, I do not intend to revive in new form an obsolete Hegelian abstraction; I intend simply to point out the obvious meaning of the most primary and crude but constant and significant facts of human ethical experience. The human being, as soon as conscious of a social environ- ment, spontaneously expresses all those springs of action which lead him both to seek from others for himself a variety of goods and to seek to give to others a variety of things which he finds to be good for himself. His self-regarding appetites, passions, desires, and affections, are shot through with sympathetic and other-regarding or social impulses ; and the society of which he comes to recognize himself as a member, is an integral part of the conception which he comes to hold of himself as an individual to the securing of whose interests others as well as himself must pay regard. From the very inception of the moral life, and as a necessary incite- CLASSIFICATION OF THE VIRTUES 221 ment to the beginnings of such a life, the individual Self is the self-conscious Will seeking its own good, as one of many similar selves. Thus, as I have already shown (p. 73 f.) the sentiment of obligation is ordinarily first aroused when the purely self-regarding volition receives its check from the social environment. The beginning lesson in right conduct is this: "Thou shalt not regard thyself to the exclusion of regard for others ; thou shalt regard thyself only as society permits thee to regard thyself. And, willing or nilling, thou shalt conform in thy self-regarding, to the customs, the traditional and organized will of thy predecessors and supe- riors." Even in the gratification of the most fundamental and imperative of the appetites and passions, virtuous con- duct imperatively requires that the regard shall not be, at least directly and ostensibly, directed upon the self. In no soci- ety, however low, can the individual eat and drink and indulge the appetite of sex, with even a show of virtue, and regard only himself. And that which is enforced in the lower grades of moral evolution by some form of appeal to civil, military, or religious authority, is freely adopted as tlie rational prin- ciple of conduct by those who have reached the higher grades of moral evolution. The essential thing about their morality is that, whether they eat or drink or whatsoever they do, they do it all — if not "to the glory of God " — with the good of society in mind as a matter of the virtuous man's constant regard. While, then, the distinction between one's self and others, as a matter of self-conscious thinking, grows more and more clear with the growth of the individual's capacities, this dis- tinction is from the first totally unfitted to be made the basis for a classification of the virtues. The more of selfhood any individual attains, the more does he become both able and entitled to distinguish himself, as having the unity of a per- sonality, from all his own physical and social environment. 222 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT But the growth in the ability to make this distinction cannot result in the development of a Moral Self, cannot even pro- duce the first feeble beginnings of a life in which right and wrong conduct are distinguished, unless some sort of an attempt at harmony between the so-called self-regarding and the so-called social springs of action is brought about. The man who refuses to attempt this harmony, the purely self-regarding man, is the non-virtuous or bad man. His self-regarding excellences, in so far as they are purely 8elf- regarding, are not esteemed virtuous at all. Even a king must do as kings ought to do — most of all, when he is regarding his own kingly dignity and power. The gods of Homer might be adulterous without blame ; but if they were sneaking and cowardly in their gratification of selfish lusts, they did not behave as gods should. But, on the other hand, at no time, whether in the naive and childish ethics of the Homeric Age, or in that most strenuous insistence upon re- gard for the social welfare which characterizes modern ethical theories, do we find men satisfied with the morality of the per- son who attempts to practise only the so-called social virtues. In all our historical characterization of the Virtuous Life, the point now to be noticed is this : virtuous conduct cannot be merely self-regarding ; it is, of its very nature and essence, an activity of the Moral Self in social relations ; but then it is also something which belongs most distinctly and essentially to a self-respecting and self-controlled manhood. In the second place, it may be objected to the distinction of the virtues into the self-regarding and the social, that most forms of virtuous conduct, so far as they are practised with an intelligent consideration of ends in view, are hoth self- regarding and social. For example, shall the man who, be- cause he has respect for his own personality and its attitude of fidelity toward the truth as he understands it, refuses to lie, even when he is forced to believe that a lie might be useful in conserving the interests of society, be denied all CLASSIFICATION OF THE VIRTUES 223 claim to virtue on the ground that his conduct is motived by selfishness ? Or shall the man who, with equal courage and consistency, always refrains from falsehood in the interests of social morals, be esteemed lacking in the essentials of a proper regard for his own personality ? I do not believe that the vir- tuousness of truthfulness is destroyed or necessarily impaired by the acceptance of either point of view as its motive. Lying is bad for society, — a social injury, a social vice. Lying is degrading to one's proper self-regard, — an act unworthy and deeply injurious to the character of a moral personality. And they are virtuous men, in this regard, who will not lie, whether their motive be regard for themselves or regard for society. The same line of remark is applicable to those who virtuously refrain from that vice which is specifically called " social." That should be noted in passing, however, which will be made more obvious subsequently. The harmony at which all virtuous conduct aims may be expressed, not simply as an adjustment of the individual self to society, but as an adjust- ment which goes on within the individual self. In the virtu- ous conduct, for the moment, at least, the whole being is brought into a harmony between the lower and actual self and the higher but ideal Self ; and in this fact I find a suggestion of the ultimate Ideal of ethics. Another classification of the virtues which may receive a brief notice, adopts as its principle the difference of objects upon which the virtuous conduct terminates. In the division resulting, some three or four classes of virtues and corre- sponding duties are customarily enumerated. Thus, there may be recognized virtues that are (a) individual, (b) domestic, (c) social ; and duties toward (a) Self, (b) the family, and (c) society ; or again, four classes of duties and their corre- sponding virtues, — namely, toward (1) animals, (2) Self, (3) fellow-men, and (4) God. But all proposals to discover the essential characteristics of the Virtuous Life by classifying the virtues according to 224 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT the different objects on which the virtuous conduct termi- nates land us in hopeless confusion. Of the above-mentioned threefold division one may inquire, whether marriage is for all persons a necessary condition of living virtuously ; and what particular form of it can be made, under all social con- ditions, so comprehensive as to include a full one-third of all human duties. In what essential respect do certain virtues, — such as pity, kindness, justice, truthfulness, etc., — when exercised in the domestic circle, differ from the same virtues when they pass over into the class called social ? As to the preceding fourfold classification, it may be questioned whether there are, strictly speaking, any duties and virtues having respect to the animals that are not included in those having respect to self and to fellow-men. And there can be no doubt whatever that the instant the existence of God is as- sumed as necessarily connected with the philosophical treat- ment of ethical phenomena, the entire subject of morality changes front. All duties now become due to God ; all vir- tues now become capable of being regarded as fidelity to Him, as a voluntary patterning of the individual man after the Divine model and as " moments " in the life which is obedi- ence to his Holy Will. A third principle for a classification of the virtues lays emphasis upon the attitude in which the different impulses of human nature stand toward the Moral Ideal. This is at once the oldest and the most suggestive and convenient ; it is also a principle which, when modified in accordance with the progress of psychological science, most directly and safely introduces us to a valid theory as to the nature of virtue. Its foundation rests in the belief that human virtues are those activities of the human Self which correspond to the Ideal of a Self. " A man's duties are due to his humanity." By making this division, Plato, in spite of the uncouth physiology and psycho-physics which were then its accompa- niment, showed a profound insight into the essential nature of CLASSIFICATION OF THE VIRTUES 225 the Virtuous Life among men. Three cardinal virtues there were ; and yet a fourth which comprehended the three in a sort of divinely ordered harmony. The three were Wisdom or the virtue of the head (cro^ia), Courage or the virtue of the heart (avSpeia), and Self-control or the virtue of the parts below the diaphragm (aoxppocnjvrj). A certain Justness, or right proportionateness (Bi/caLoavvrj) everywhere resulted when these three virtues combined to make the really " good man." And yet in some sort it is wisdom, or reason knowing the Reality, and so regulating the entire life, which, according to Plato, supremely characterizes the follower of the moral Ideal. But none of these virtues can be merely self-regarding, although they are all attitudes of the higher Self with regard to its own proper regulation. For with Plato, as with the ancient world generally, wisdom, courage, temperance, and justice are essen- tially civic virtues, and have regard to the welfare of the State. This ideal of manhood is, then, the farthest possible from the brutal self-assertion of some of the modern advocates of the so-called " strenuous life." As Paulsen has well said : ^ " The Republic is the very thing for young people whose thoughts are preoccupied with and confused by Nietzsche's UebermenschJ^ Plato's great disciple, while not adhering to any consistent classification of the virtues, in his treatment of the nature of virtue in general and of the particular virtues accepts essen- tially the same principle. In his preliminary definition of the sphere of ethics Aristotle indeed proposes the distinction which, we have already seen (p. 106 f.), weakens, if it does not vitiate, one's estimate of the nature and supreme value of the virtuous life. The virtues of the head, the voluntary culture and right use of reason as a species of conduct, although it is a fundamental prerequisite of every cardinal virtue, he separates at the beginning of his treatise from the so-called " moral " virtues. Still " the virtue or excellence that we are to con- sider is," according to Aristotle, " the excellence of man," 1 A System of Ethics, p. 47. 15 226 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT and bj the " excellence of man " is meant " excellence not of body, but of soul." And in his description of each particular virtue he finds himself dealing with the various springs of action and forms of activity, under the control of the will and in the pursuit of an ideal. Thus the various appetites give rise either to forms of temperance or to the vices of gluttony, unchastity, etc. ; and fear either begets an unworthy cowardice, or, being controlled, issues in a prudent courage or an impru- dent rashness. In all this discussion it is evident that the author of the Nicomachean Ethics has constantly in view the fundamental principle of every psychologically sound theory of the nature of virtue. Abundant examples might be drawn from the history of ethical discussions to show that every attempt at a description of the Virtuous Life must pay its respects to essentially the same principle for the classification of the virtues. And why should it not, as a matter of course, be so ? For by the word, the " virtues," ethics does not mean to indicate some en- tity that can be abstracted and exhibited apart from the activity of the entire soul. Yirtuousness for man is essen- tially man's Self in action as related to other selves. With a view, then, the more conveniently to establish a valid theory of the nature of virtue upon a broad basis of human experience, I shall classify the virtues according to the current threefold classification of man's so-called faculties. We have thus to consider in a separate chapter, first, the virtues of the will, or those forms of conduct in which the excellent, the better manhood shows itself conspicuously by its self- control, whether in the pursuit of its chosen ends or in re- sistance to those influences which inhibit and prevent the execution of the will. Second : we have to examine the virtues of the intellect or judgment, those excellences of the better manhood which give the distinctively rational quality to human conduct. And, third, there remain the virtuous sentiments and affections, the virtues of the heart, CLASSIFICATION OF THE VIRTUES 227 or those excellences of conduct which do most sweeten the sourness, illumine the darkness, and cheer the otherwise hard and cold path to the higher Good of human life. But before taking up in detail this discussion of the Vir- tuous Life certain explanations are necessary as to the use which it is proposed to make of this principle of classification. First : no form of virtuous conduct can either be under- stood or practised as though it were the product of any isolated activity of man's mental life. Strictly speaking, then, there are no virtues exclusively of either head or heart or dia- phragm, or even of either intellect, feeling, or will. For blind, unfeeling volition — if it were worthy to be called a man^s will — has no ethical quality whatever; such volition is not a function of the Moral Self. In order to constitute any fact of volition a deed of will that has ethically good or bad quality, there must be a presentation of some form of good to be obtained and a feeling appreciative of its worth as an end to be voluntarily sought. But neither does mere judg- ment as to what is eudasmonistically or aesthetically or ethic- ally good, however true and illumining in itself, constitute a virtuous action. Just judgment is a virtuous trait, and to be trained in such judgment is an essential for the truly good man. They who have in the highest perfection this power of intelligently balancing conflicting interests, of sitting like gods for the evaluation of the moral worth of themselves and others, belong to the " good few " among men. But such power of judgment is always attained and exercised as the result of will, incited and suffused with feeling. It, too, is a function of the total Moral Self. Nor is mere so- called " fine feeling " a virtue, unless it be tempered with reason and then adopted as a guide to action. The threefold classification of the virtues which I propose must therefore, like every other classification, be understood as not denying the unity, either of the soul or of the soul's virtuous living, while at the same time adopting distinctions 228 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT that are serviceable for the mastery of an almost indefinite variability. For, second, there are different classes of virtues which do, both actually and in the average estimate of mankind, em- phasize the excellences of man's self-control ; and the cor- responding vices are like laments over deficiencies in the power of self-control. The courageous and consistent " bad " man illustrates the one ; and the timid and fickle but " well- meaning" man illustrates the other. So, too, there are virtues which depend chiefly upon a cultivated judgment; they are the virtues of rationality, in the narrow but popular meaning of the latter word. And no kindness of heart, or constancy of purpose, can suffice to fill the gap caused by a lack of these virtues. Virtues indeed they are ; for they re- sult from the at least partially right activity of the moral self in accordance with its proper and obligatory ideal. On the other hand, the man of steadfast and courageous purpose, with no end of wisdom and the most exact justice, but without kind- ness of heart, sympathy with the weak, and pity for the oppressed and the fallen, is not the ideally good man. He lacks one essential third, at least, of the wholly Virtuous Life. And, now in the third place, the two preceding remarks must combine in a conclusion, to make and apply which will relieve the mind of many practical perplexities, while, at the same time, throwing no small light upon the true conception of the essential nature of virtue. Is the courage of the criminal who is brave not wholly from a spirit of shameless bravado, but chiefly because of a sort of shame at betraying fear when he must face the foreseen consequences of his own chosen path of conduct, a virtue, or not ? Is our admiration for Milton's Satan, however sneakingly confessed, a purely aesthetical and not also an ethical affair ? Can the mind of man frame a picture of a devil, who is in any sense of the word and over any realm, the Devil, and make him wholly bad ? CLASSIFICATION OF THE VIRTUES 229 To all such questions the naive moral consciousness of man- kind gives no unequivocal answer. I believe that the answer of the student of philosophy must in the main accord with the answer of mankind.^ Courage and persistency of purpose, for example, are virtu- ous forms of conduct. They are forms of conduct, because they involve the activity of the whole Moral Self, — feeling, intellect, and will ; they are virtuous, because they are such forms of conduct, chiefly a matter of steadfast will, as corre- spond with the Ideal of Selfhood. The self-control of fear, and steadfastness of purpose, even when given to the pursuit of some selfish end, do not thus become vices, being them- selves vitiated by the quality of the end sought, or by the means employed. They remain what they essentially are, — virtues of the will. But the choice of the inferior in prefer- ence to the better good is a most cardinal vice, the very essence, as it were, of all wrong-doing; and injustice to others in the pursuit of one's own ends, whether ignorant and thoughtless or designed and deliberate, is a flagrant moral evil. Selfishness and injustice are vices ; but courage and constancy still remain virtues, even when enlisted in the behalf of selfishness and injustice. It is this truth which gives ethical justification to the poetical expression of it in Browning: — " Oh, a crime will do As well, I reply, to serve for a test As a virtue golden through and through. The sin I impute to each frustrate ghost Is — the unlit lamp and the ungirt loin." Shall it then be said that it were better — more in accord- ance with the ideal of moral selfhood — to remain to the last courageously and constantly in the pursuit of the inferior good, rather than to change to the pursuit of the superior 1 Compare the remarks already made on p. 100. 230 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT good ? Certainly not. But timid and inconstant generosity, the spirit of kindness restrained and rendered fickle by cow- ardice, benevolence that has no '' valiancy " to its " volency," are sometimes scarcely less clearly "through and through" vicious than is a courageous and consistent selfishness. The reasons for this conflict in points of view, and the correct solution of the problems of ethical praxis that are concerned in the conflict, lie deep in the constitution of the human soul. They are due to its actual variety in unity, its real unity in spite of the actual variety of its activities. Thus all the particular virtues, or modes of conduct which the moral consciousness of man approves, may fitly be called " qualified " virtues. In order to have moral quality at all, or — what is the same thing — in order to be species of con- duct, they must involve the total personality. They must be forms of action that admit of voluntary control, and that are directed toward the attainment of some end which itself ad- mits of being connected with ideas of worth and with feelings of obligation and of approbation or disapproval. Those par- ticular activities of the man which correspond with the ideal of a Moral Self conducting itself in a variety of social rela- tions with other selves are the so-called virtues. But, I repeat, they are all qualified virtues. They all inhibit and limit or supplement and complement each other in the totality of the complex Virtuous Life. For this life is the total life in conduct of that unitary being, with all the variety of its threefold nature, which we call a human Self. CHAPTER XI VIRTUES OF THE WILL: COURAGE, TEMPERANCE, ETC. From time immemorial and under all conditions of human development, the man of strong character has been quite generally admired and commended. Nor can the admiration and commendation be declared, on a careful analysis of the motives and actions of men in this respect, to be by any means lacking in truly ethical significance. Doubtless some of this feeling towards so-called " strength of character " is con- nected with a sneaking sense of inferiority which may, on the one hand, lead the weak to prostrate themselves before the man of superior will, or, on the other hand, turn quickly into the expression of that base envy and hatred which always greet those of the strenuous, whether the obviously successful or unsuccessful life. Just as undoubtedly much of the universal admiration for men of strong character is quite purely aes- thetical. The plucky bulldog or gamecock which puts up a brave fight and holds tenaciously on to the bitter end, is admired. Bravos meet the daring, if successful, ventures of the toreador or the prima donna. Exhibitions of strength, whether made by inanimate or by animate nature, tend al- ways to arouse the aesthetical feeling of man. Weakness may be pitiful and pardonable, but it is never, as weakness, assthetically good. But I believe the facts of moral con- sciousness show that just as undoubtedly is the admiration which men so generally bestow upon strength of character also an ethical affair. Strong in character is what the good man ought to be , strength and constancy of self-determina- 232 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT tion in this universe, where so many temptations to cowardice and fickleness are found and where such bulk of obstacles lies athwart the path to the right form of living are virtues which every good man must possess and cultivate. The approbation with which the strong man is greeted is the expression of a justifiable moral esteem. And why should this not be so? The rather, how can this possibly fail to be so ? For by the very term, will, nothing else is meant in this connection than the Self re- garded in its aspect of control of itself, of its own conduct, in the pursuit of an end esteemed to be good. This so-called " Will,'' then, is the very centre and core of his selfhood, in so far as man himself has anything to determine concerning what he shall be or accomplish by way of influence over his fellow men. So that, in some sort, the most essential thing about moral goodness is the way in which the self-control enters into the goodness so as to make it strong and con- stant. For, properly speaking, '•'good will," in this most fundamental, appropriate, and clearly intelligible meaning of the phrase, is not synonymous with benevolence, or wishing the good. It is, the rather, good stiff and sound, but not unintelligent and blind, self-control. Inasmuch, then, as it is good psychology to hold that man is, primarily and most fundamentally considered, a Will, and good ethics to hold that moral freedom is an essential and integral part of his endowment for the life of conduct, it is also sound philosophy of conduct to recognize that these good qualities of the willing Self, are cardinal virtues, fundamental forms of man's functioning in the Virtuous Life. A ''''good will " ^s, first of all and always, a Will that performs well its functions as a Will. And such a will is what men chiefly mean whenever they note with admiration and commendation unusual ''strength of character" so-called. The three cardinal Virtues of Will, or forms of self-control and self-determination which emphasize the correct function- VIRTUES OF THE WILL 233 ing of the voluntary Self in conduct, are Courage, Temper- ance, and Constancy. Courage is self-control in the presence of every form of temptation to fear ; it is strength of purpose resisting the impulse to yield to cowardice. Temperance is self-control in the presence of every impulse to the grati- fication of the appetites and desires ; it is strength of purpose to resist the seductions of the pleasure-giving and pleasure- promising activities. Constancy is persistent self-control in spite of resistance or obstacles to be overcome ; it is strength of purpose resisting all impulses to turn aside from the chosen course of conduct, from the repeated if even laborious use of means to reach the desired end. The vices or faults which are opposed to these virtues are cowardice, licentiousness or profligacy, and fickleness or sloth. In some sort, however, Constancy best expresses the most essential characteristic of all the virtues of this kind, — con- stancy which when it exists in the interests of a high and noble principle, a rational end such as elicits the finest ethical sentiment, becomes Fidelity to the Moral Ideal. Than this word, no other, not even the word " benevolence," or the word " justice," is better fitted to call up and to embody the most inclusive characteristics of the truly Virtuous Life. It is desirable in the interests of a tenable theory, as well as indispensable in preparation for tlie successful practice of morality, that these virtues of will should be distinguished from the shams of virtue with which they are most liable to be confounded. And perhaps confusion is easier here than with respect to any other class of virtues. Rashness, and the braggart spirit or the spirit of bravado, and insensibility to fear, are the shams of courage — the vices, which, although they have their own moral constitution, as it were, are most apt to be mistaken for the virtue of courage. Here, for example, the application, by Aristotle, to the case of this virtue of his well known doctrine of the mean^ does not quite satis- 1 See Nic. Eth., II, viii, 1 f. and III, vi-ix. 234 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT factorilj exhibit the exact nature either of courage or of those vices which are its most frequent and deceptive shams. For the virtue of which rashness is generally the apparent opposite vice is prudence ; but this vice of rashness may be the expres- sion of either one of several somewhat different forms of vicious motive ; or what seems rashness may even be the expression of a deliberate, intelligent, and virtuous resolve to throw all considerations of the prudential sort to the winds, for the time being, in the interests of some higher end. In this latter case we do, indeed, hesitate to speak of the violation of prudential considerations as rashness; and the conduct resulting, how- ever imprudent, certainly cannot unreservedly be called vicious. It may amount to the sublimest kind of courage. Not infrequently, however, it is some form of fear which furnishes the motive to the pretence of courage ; and this is as true of what appears as an extraordinary willingness to face danger, a brilliant bravery amounting to rashness in the mind of the observer, as of what, in the case of weaker personalities is usually recognized as foolhardiness. The cowardice which exists in the latter case Aristotle recognizes : " And so your foolhardy man is generally a coward at bottom ; he blusters so long as he can do so safely, but turns tail when real danger comes." But when one kind of fear impulsively overcomes another, the control of the weaker by the stronger impulse can scarcely be praised as an instance of the virtue of courage. The cowards are not only those who will not fight unless compelled " in Hector's fashion," — " Whoso is seen to skulk and shirk the fight Shall nowise save his carcase from the dogs." but also those who dare not refuse to fight simply because they fear more some form of vilification, or depreciation by their fellows. It is moreover often difficult to distinguish between insensibility to pain and that energy of will which overcomes not only the fear of pain but even the feeling of pain. To VIRTUES OF THE WILL 235 which, for example, shall we attribute the heroic action of that Indian of whom Jameson tells in his '' Winter Studies and Summer Rambles in Canada," who, when he was pinned by his arm by a falling tree, amputated the arm with his hunt- ing-knife, crept to his canoe, and rowed himself home ? It would seem, then, that the virtue of courage needs a more thorough analysis than it has generally received in order to distinguish it from those vices or faults which sham its characteristics, and from those forms of virtuous conduct whose external manifestations are most similar. Courage, I repeat, then, is a virtue which includes all intelligent self- control in the presence of every kind of fear. Cowardice is the yielding to fear, the allowing of fear to become an impul- sive or a restraining motive in the pursuit of any end attain- able by one's conduct. The Self afraid, and the Self controlling itself and putting down or setting aside the fear, — these are the essential elements of this cardinal virtue. It is fitly called a virtue of the will because, although it must be qualified by rational considerations and ethical sentiments in order to reach its most worthy estate, it is, nevertheless, eo ipso, a way of voluntary functioning which is a fundamental char- acteristic of the good Moral Self. Such a Self is designed to control itself, in the pursuit of its ends, in spite of every form of fear. Man is a being made capable of fears and so environed that he is constantly, of necessity, subjected to various forms of fear. There are fears which are aroused by all manner of attacks upon his physical well-being ; and, as well, upon the physical well-being of those whose interests are nearest to his own. He cannot acquire any manner of possessions without overcoming these fears ; and for the primitive or savage man the daily fears that inhibit and scare backward his efforts for food and drink and gratification of the sexual appetite, are terrible and hard to overcome. Domestic, tribal, and civic fears hedge in and retrench his forth-puttings, the 236 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT impulsive or more deliberate resultant workings of the different springs of action. The restraints of the current morals and of his religious beliefs largely multiply and enhance his fears. His primary moral law is chiefly a " thou shalt not " ; his religion is largely a matter of terrifying superstitions and dreadful tabus. Only in this way, however, can the crude and dangerous primary impulses of his nature be held in check, and the most fundamental of all tlie particular virtues, the virtue of courage, be induced. As ethnology shows us;^ " Prominent among the checks of savage life is the fear of the anger of the dead. Among savages the supposed wishes of their departed friends, or deified forefathers, operate as real commands, girt with all the sanction of superstitious terror, and clothing the most fanciful customs with all the obligatory feelings of morality." Now if we examine this emotion of fear in the light of its psycho-physics we find its most primitive significance in the economics of human life to be (1) inhibitory and (2) retro- active in the meaning of furnishing the impulse to retreat, to move in the opposite direction from that in which lies the desired object. The scared child, like the startled animal, first stops, stands still, remains in extreme cases '* rooted to the spot" and trembling, but with senses alert to discover and estimate the object of fear ; and then, second, if the fear is yielded to, impulsive or more deliberate flight results. But all human interests, all the ends of good which mortal man can pursue, including those that are most evanescent or purely ideal, are subjects of the struggle for possession, the fight that either wins or suffers defeat. For every kind of good and of impulse toward that good, there is a correspond- ing kind of fear. Without the inhibitory action and the impulse to withdraw, whether precipitately or deliberately, which are due to the various fears of human nature, neither body nor mind nor morality could be either conserved or 1 Farrer, Primitive Manners and Customs, p. 117 f. VIRTUES OF THE WILL 237 developed. For the checks and inhibitions and retroactions of every form of human life are quite as necessary to the preservation and evolution of that life as are the more positive and direct springs of action. He who has not all these fears is less fully equipped for life ; indeed, he is less likely to have the genuine virtue of courage. For the virtue of courage consists in the self-control of fear ; and insensibility to fear, even if we refuse to agree to Aristotle's view that " it is a vice which is one of the * extremes ' of courage," certainly must not be identified with this virtue. As the author of the Nicomachean Ethics pointed out, cour- age is, therefore, not to be confused with the self-confidence of the sanguine temperament or of the optimist; neither does it resemble that impulsive disregard of danger which extreme rage causes : " So we find in Homer, ' Put might into his rage ' and ' roused his wrath and rage ' and ' fierce wrath breathed througli his nostrils,' and ' his blood boiled.' " The sanguine man and the optimist may be courageous ; and the angry man may also be truly brave. Both the sanguine temperament and the state of anger are, however, distinctly unfavorable to the genuine virtue of courage. Indeed, the virtue of courage is more apt to develop in the choleric and melancholic temperaments ; and the exercise of the habit of courage is plainly for the time impossible when one is under the control of impulses due to an excessive and blind rage. The truth is that the greater part of the courage of the world's bravest souls goes into their lives in quiet and unob- trusive ways. Invalids who meet with daily self-control the fear of pain and weakness, women who either calmly but intelligently await the terrors of childbirth or send their grown sons out to do battle in a just cause, laborers who pluckily fight for a decent maintenance and education for their families in the face of the new fears with which the modern organization of capital is surrounding them, the good few politicians (where there be any such) who stand for 238 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT truth and justice in the face of a depressing and degrading dread of the '' boss " or of " my constituency," the servants of God who plead for righteousness in spite of the fact that they may forfeit their positions, — these, and such as they constitute the multitude of those who have this cardinal virtue of the will that chooses not to yield to fear. My friend, who pluck ily fought to the end for the one hour and a half a day, which was all that the deadly disease would allow him, in order that he might worthily finish his good work of science, was amongst the bravest of men. Kant, working away and never minding but subduing the constant pain in his chest that he might, although " removing knowledge," " make room for faith," showed much more of genuine courage than some generals whose tombs adorn Westminster Abbey. And no more valiant hero ever died in battle than David Living- stone found dead upon his knees in Africa. It is not strange, then, that the kind of courage most imperatively needed at any particular stage of man's develop- ment should be most highly esteemed and approbated by the ethical judgment of that age. Even in the estimate of the ancient philosopher,^ '-' The term courageous, in the strictest sense, will be applied to him who fearlessly faces an honorable death and all sudden emergencies which involve death ; and such emergencies mostly occur in war." But a man, Aris- totle thinks, would be " a maniac or quite insensible to pain " who should not fear " even earthquakes and breakers, as they say is the case with the Celts." Both these statements miss entirely the essential qualities of the virtue of courage. For fearlessly to face an honorable death is not courage unless the fear has been overcome by an act of will ; otherwise it is the same maniacal rage or insensibility to pain of which the Celts are accused. But to control the fear of death by the sea or by the earthquake requires a rarer and a higher kind of courage than to face death in battle. Almost all kinds of men can, 1 Nic. Eth., Ill, vi, 10. VIRTUES OF THE WILL 239 as experts tell us, without great difficulty be trained to bravery in war ; and that bragging over an exclusive claim to this ex- hibition of the virtue with which particular persons, tribes, or nations, so often go forth to battle is quite likely to take on a lower tone before the issue is fully decided. The Norsemen in their hardy and bold conquest of the sea have shown as much courage as did the founders of the Roman Empire. Moreover, as man becomes more truly civilized, less emphasis is placed by the thoughtful upon the particular manifestation of courage which Aristotle considered to be- long to the concept in its strictest sense. In some far-distant future the time may come when even the less civilized nations will cease to agree with the Greek conception, because indi- vidual men and nations will have ceased to recognize the fear- ful necessity of appealing their disputes to the arbitrament of war, so-called. Then will be most highly esteemed the courage of the man who would rather suffer wrong than do wrong, who is more afraid of not doing good than of not getting goods ; and yet who is ever ready to face even death in the interests of righteousness to be attained or unrighteous- ness to be opposed. For this virtue of courage will never be out of date ; and the more subtle are the temptations to the vice of cowardice and the more deceitful the shams of cour- age, the more will the genuine thing be needed and the more highly will it be prized. Under such improved circumstances of nations so civilized as no longer to engage in war, there would seem to be still an opportunity for the ideally cour- ageous man, as his praises are sung by Wordsworth in his Happy Warrior, " Who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for human kind, Is happy as a lover . . . And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law In calmness made . . . More brave for this, that he hath much to love." 240 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT But is it not true that to be influenced bj certain fears is a mark of the Virtuous Life, and that the absence of these fears is a sign of stolidity or of shamelessness rather than of the virtue of courage ? Are there not fears which a man ought to cherish and to control which cannot be called virtuous? These questions must doubtless be answered affirmatively, although in a qualified way. Susceptibility to various forms of fear is a natural characteristic of the human animal. And man, besides having substantially all the same fears as the more intelligent of the lower animals, is also influenced by many are that specifically human. Moreover, some fears are so con- nected with the higher interests of human life that they ap- pear to have, as fears, a real ethical character. For example, the fear of being disesteemed by one's fellow men, or of being deemed base, may become more potent, because it seems more ethically worthy, than the fear of the loss of property or even of the loss of life. Higher yet in the scale of values, because of its connection with the virtuous life, may appear the fear of doing wrong, or that " fear of the Lord " which is the begin- ning of wisdom. There is also the curious anomaly of the man who is courageous because he fears more — not the being called, but the really being a coward, than he fears the thing that threatens seriously some physical or material interest. The fear of losing the consciousness of honor has been a most powerful motive toward some of the noblest deeds of history. It may be said, then, in some true and pertinent meaning of the words, that every complete man ought to feel all the kinds of fear to which man is subject, when liis nature, his inter- ests, and his environment are considered from the rational point of view ; and, furthermore, that he ought most of all to fear those things which make the most dangerous and effec- tive attacks upon his superior interests. But from the ethical point of view the most fearful thing is whatever tends to in- hibit, or to make him retreat from, his following with all his will the moral ideal. VIRTUES OF THE WILL 241 The forms of conduct which arise through the influence of the different fears of man are certain so-called " prudential virtues." Prudence as a virtue frequently is the rational and voluntary yielding to fear in respect of the pursuit of ends for the realization of any form of the good ; and the particular display of prudence has its place assigned in the scale of moral values according to the worth of the end in the inter- ests of which the prudence is exercised. Self-control under the influence of fear may be called virtuous when the fear is of such a character that it may be regarded as obligatory upon the will. Prudence is, therefore, for all men an indispensable but most distinctly " qualified " and even subordinate kind of virtue. It follows, then, from the very nature of both virtues and from the character of man's physical and social environment that courage and prudence are usually antithetic. They con- stantly qualify each other. Shall I run the risk — to life or health, to property or happiness, to the favor of men or to social or political advancement, or even to the interests of those dear to me — which is necessarily involved in the pur- suit at this particular point, of the end which I have chosen ? If I say, Yes, it is the courageous answer ; if I say. No, it is the prudential. When the end is one the attainment of which imposes the feeling of obligation, a conflict of duties, and a problem of moral values, is certain to follow. If the end is worth it, I am in duty bound to run the risk. The cardinal virtue of the will — courage — must win the day, or I am not worthy of moral approbation. If the end is not worth the risk — " not worth," that is, in the scale of moral values — then I may be prudent ; or it may be my duty to be prudent. It is noteworthy, however, that all yielding to fear is apt to be accompanied by a certain feeling of weakness, littleness, finite- ness. Thus that excellent Hindu gentleman who succumbed to the threats of the Brahmans through the fear of losing caste for his family, and did penance for having violated their 16 242 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT rule against going abroad, even if it be admitted that his pru- dence was morally justifiable, suffered in the sight of men a certain loss of esteem. But what if, it may be asked, as doubtless often happens, prudence is duty, and the man has no right to run the risk ; shall we say that, in such a case, courage is virtuous ; or may it not even be the crime of rashness, — not true courage at all ? Here, I reply, is one of those psychological confusions with which the discussion of the nature of the virtues is so fraught. Courage, or self-control in the presence of fear, is always a virtue ; but courage is not the only virtue ; and, like all the qualified virtues, it is not always the virtue that should come to the front. In many problems of conduct there is, therefore, a chance for a seeming compromise between the antithetic virtues of courage and prudence. This takes place oftenest, perhaps, in the form of a change of the chosen means for accomplishing the end ; and conduct has frequently to do with the way in which men choose to realize their ends. If, then, without yielding through fear the chosen end, one can follow that end more successfully in some other than the chosen way, there is a chance to effect an apparent blend of courage and prudence. One may continue to be courageous in the following of the prudentially " more excellent way." Men who succeed best by such compromises get most credit for a kind of fairly courageous prudence, a judicious courage. But, unless there is something more of this cardinal virtue of will to these men, they have no fitness for heroic deeds, nor do they attain the sublimer heights of character. In order to discover the key for unlocking this puzzle of seemingly inherent and unavoidable sacrifice of virtue to fear, we must turn to the positive side of the human soul, to the motives and inducements furnished by the moral ideals. Thus for every negative prudential virtue as an act born of fear, there is found a correlative virtuous act of a courageous sort. The prudential fear of death becomes the courageous guarding VIRTUES OF THE WILL 243 of life — but only so long as life can be made to serve the ends that are set by the moral ideals. The prudential fears of losing property, position, public favor, or even reputation and influence, are lost in the courageous defence and use of all these opportunities — but only so long and so far as they contribute to the realization of the moral ideals. Even the fear of doing wrong is transformed into a passionate and brave devotion to the ideal of duty ; and that fear of the Lord which is only the beginning of wisdom is lost in the per- fect love which casteth out all fear. How splendidly this cardinal virtue of the will, this courageous and positive devo- tion to the Moral Ideal, may shine forth in the expressions of finite moral consciousness is shown in a startling manner by the following declaration of John Stuart Mill ^ : '' I will call no being good, who is not what I mean when I apply that epithet to my fellow- creatures ; and if such a being can sentence me to hell for not calling him so, to hell I will go." So, what but the sublimest confidence in a moral ideal that is worthy of being bravely followed at whatever risk to interests not essentially and inseparably part of itself, could have led that nobleman among my friends, in all modesty to say : ** I do not believe there is power enough in the universe to make me tell a lie." But neither of these declarations can possibly be explained in consistency with a philosophy of conduct which makes any prudential principle supreme, either in the theory or the practice of morality. How cardinal a virtue is courage in every form of its manifestation might also be shown by an historical investi- gation into the place which it has always held amongst those forms of conduct most esteemed by the moral consciousness of mankind. In the earlier and lower stages of evolution, whatever other virtues are lacking, courage must be most insisted upon. All the immediate inducements of discipline and of praise, as well as the more remote social, political, and 1 Examination of Sir Wra. Hamilton's Philosophy, I, p. 131. 244 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT even religious rewards of this virtue, tend to cultivate it. Of the North American Indian we are told ^ that, for him " death is rather an event of gladness than of terror, bringing him rest or enjoyment after his period of toil ; nor does he fear to go to a land which all his life long he has heard abounds in rewards without punishments." In the form of courageous endurance of suffering and scorn of danger in the interests of truth, early Christianity insisted upon this virtue ; and it thus won for itself the admiration which the brave religious devotee has commanded in all ages and under all circumstances. Mediaeval Germanic Christianity overestimated, or rather wrongly conceived, this essential virtue ; and so — to quote from Paulsen : ^ " The old Saxon poem of the life of Jesus (the Heliand) makes Christ a mighty lord and the disciples his retainers; the transformation shows how impossible it was for the Saxons to imagine the real Jesus and his fol- lowers." And in the modern Occidental civilizations, where the ordinary daily life of the multitude is all " sicklied o'er with the pale cast" of prudential considerations, the occur- rence of war, riot, fire, pestilence, gives occasion to the spontaneous outburst of approbation which always, and fitly, greets any unusual display of this cardinal virtue of the will. In respect for this virtue man is essentially the same in all stages of the development of his moral consciousness. Cowardice is, on the other hand, one of the most funda- mental and mortal forms of bad conduct ; it is essentially and eternally bad, because it vitiates and thwarts every kind of virtuous conduct by yielding to the fears which stand in the way of the pursuit of moral good. No good can be gained for man without encountering pain. No virtue can be exer- cised if the individual will cannot control the conduct in spite of the influence from the fear of pain. And here the current 1 J. A. Farrer, Primitive Manners and Customs, p. 39, quoting from School- craft. « A System of Ethics, p. 119. VIRTUES OF THE WILL 245 distinctions between ** physical courage" and "moral cour- age," or between " true courage " and " false courage," are for the most part mistaken and mischievous. There is no courage which is not moral ; and there is little use for courage that cannot control the bodily impulses which are produced by the various forms of fear. True courage is simply courage ; and so-called false courage is simply the sham of courage, which may be only another and subtler form of cowardice. But cowardice is always and everywhere a vice ; and it is often the most deplorable and harmful of vices. The moral degradation from the vice of cowardice, as well as the mischievous results which follow indulgence in this vice, admit of being estimated by a sort of ethical standard or scale. What is the particular character of the fear, and with reference to what sort of good does it apply ? The lower in the ethical scale stands the fear in yielding to which the cowardice consists, and the less worthy ethically are the ends at which the prudential considerations aim, the more degrading and, on the whole, more harmful, is the resulting vice of cowardice. The merchant who, through fear of losing property or of failing to gain it, consents to lies and bribery, the politician who does the same thing through fear of losing his place, the public teacher who flinches in telling the truth which it is his duty to tell, are all baser cowards than is the soldier who, in the panic fear of losing his life, turns his back upon his officer and precipitately leaves the field of battle. Yet, in these days, the one is surely disgraced as a poltroon; the other is perhaps commended for his prudence. Another consideration which enhances the meanness and the dangerous character of cowardice is the number of other vices whose minister, or easy prey, the coward must become. For the coward is the man subject to fear and not the master of his fears. And almost every human vice, on certain frequent occasions, can appeal to our fears ; while every antithetic virtue must often be practised bravely, if I 246 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT practised at all. Consider how avarice feeds cowardice and is responsive to the prudential considerations onlj. Consider how ambition — the more the baser — does the same thing. And how is lust made more despicable when allied with cowardice ! What virtue can you expect, in an evil genera- tion — and the generation is always prevailingly evil — from the soul afflicted with the incurable vice of cowardice ? I believe it is quite warranted by the facts to declare that cowardice and avarice are the two worst, most mischievous, and most degrading vices of the nation at the present time ; — cowardice that is begotten and nurtured in the vice of avarice, and avarice that is made all the more contemptible and perni- cious because it is so cowardly. As one of our leading novelists has written : " We are a cowardly generation, and men shrink from suffering now, as their fathers shrank from dishonor in the rougher times. The Lotus hangs within the reach of all, and in the lives of many ' it is always afternoon,' as for the Lotus Eaters. The fruit takes many shapes and names ; it is called Divorce, it is called Morphia, it is called Compromise, it is designated in a thousand ways and justified by ten thousand specious arguments, but it means only one thing : Escape from Pain." It is not without significance that, in the order of treatment suggested by our classification of the virtues, we now pass on to consider the virtue of Temperance. For temperance, like courage, is mainly a virtue of self-control ; although, like courage and all the other particular virtues, it is qualified by other virtues as respects the rightful position which it holds in the Virtuous Life. But while courage is the enlightened and feeling Self in control of itself, in spite of fear, temperance is the same enlightened and feeling Self holding the control over all its own positive impulses to seek the various forms of good, — that is, over its own " springs of action " so-called. Temperance is a virtue of the Will, because in its essential nature it emphasizes seZ/-control ; but unless it be enlightened VIRTUES OF THE WILL 247 by intelligence, the control can have no moral character ; that is to saj, in a word, it is not control of the Self at all. Indeed, the very term signifies that virtuousness here requires the moderation rather than the total suppression of the impulses to action. It is the intelligence of man which furnishes the rules for this kind of self-control ; but it is the will that actu- ally moderates, according to the rules of moderation which experience furnishes and wisdom dictates ; I have, therefore, called temperance a cardinal but qualified virtue of the will. Temperance, then, is the rational moderation by self- control of every form of natural impulse, positive or defen- sive, toward all kinds of good. The germ of the complete conception is better given (better, that is, than in the word i^yKpareia) in the Greek aaycfipoa-uvTj — a "healthy-minded," ra- tional will. But even Aristotle, ^ the most prominent scien- tific exponent of the conception, limits this virtue to " those kinds of pleasure which are common to the lower animals ; " and, then, more definitely to ** the sense of touch, alike in the pleasures of eating, drinking, and of sexual intercourse." It is more consistent, however, both with a profound psychology and with the interests of ethics to extend the conception to all the natural impulses of man. This extensiveness charac- terizes the view of the more distinctively Christian doctrine ; the good Christian keeps all his appetites, passions, and desires, under strict control in the interests of the ideally virtuous life which he is trying to realize. The same fulness of conception belongs to modern ethics, in spite of the present unfortunate popular limitation of the word " temperance " to moderation, or even ascetic abstinence, in respect of one artificial form of a subordinate kind of the human appetites. The extent of the more comprehensive and refined idea may be seen in this declaration of " holy " George Herbert : " To put on the profound humility and the exact temperance of our Lord Jesus Christ, and to keep them on in the sunshine 1 Nic. Eth., m, X t 248 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT and noon of prosperity, is as necessary and as difficult, at least, as to be clothed with perfect patience and true Christian fortitude in the cold, midnight storms of persecution and adversity." Here humility, or the rational will in control of that impulse to haughtiness to which the prosperous man is tempted, is rightly coupled with temperance. For to temper^ or modify, by self-control, all the natural impulses is a cardinal excellence of will which is demanded in the pursuit of the moral Ideal. Further insight into the nature of this particular virtue, as bearing upon the general theory of virtue is gained by consid- ering the fundamental relations in which the varying inten- sities of the impulsive elements of human nature stand to the cultivation of a genuine strength of character. It is custom- ary to speak — and this accords with universal experience — of different degrees in the strength, naturally, of the various appetites, passions, and desires. One man is said to be born with " strong " and another with " weak " appetites or passions, — either including the general outfit, as it were, or selecting some one or more examples. A is naturally " passionate " (meaning a man born with tendencies to anger which rise above the average level of intensity) ; but B is *' lustful " (in the narrower meaning of the word ) ; and as for (7, the desire to acquire property has been especially forceful and control- ling from almost the beginning of his conscious life. Two things are to be observed touching the psychological relation in which this so-called strength of the impulses stands to the acquirement of strength of character, to the Virtuous Life in so far as it consists in energy of self-deter- mining Will. First : strength of character is dependent upon a certain natural inheritance or endowment of intensity to the appetites, passions, and desires ; the man who is weak in respect of all these springs of action can scarcely become a man of strong character. But, second, the reverse or com- plementary truth is this : unless these appetites, passions, and VIRTUES OF THE WILL 249 desires are tempered by self-control — unless, that is to say, the virtue of will which is called temperance, is called forth and cultivated — their very intensity becomes a source of moral weakness. For the centre of the Moral Self is apt to become occupied by some dominant impulse, which from this centre controls the courses of conduct to the impairment or the destruction of a genuine moral strength. Such a thing as a maximum intensity of all the varied and numerous forms of impulse is, of course, impossible of realization ; for they sway the will of the morally weak man in different and often in contrary directions. The strength of the maniac is the nearest approach to the resultant in character, when all the impulsive forces of the soul are trying, since they cannot rage together, to get their turn in the control of the will. But strong appetites, passions and desires, when tempered by self- control, are constituents of a strong and effective and morally admirable manhood. Thus Temperance becomes a cardinal and indispensable Virtue of the Will. The same thing, in a way, is true of the appetites, passions, and desires of man, which was seen to be true of human fears. There is a general outfit of such impulses which all com- pletely constituted human beings possess in varying degrees of intensity belonging to each. To be deficient in any of them is to lack some of the qualifications of manhood, and so to be incapable of certain forms of the virtue of temperance. These different impulses are themselves capable of being arranged in a scale of values, corresponding to the relation which they sustain to the Self in its pursuit of the moral Ideal. Thus, to control the appetites in the interest of almost every form of desire — the desire for property, the desire for esteem of one's fellows, the desire for knowledge, or the desire to succeed in one's profession — is recognized as a species of the virtue of temperance. But desires themselves have different values by reason of their relation to the values of the ends desired, if not by virtue of their own inherent 250 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT worth. Nor can one stop with this admission. For the various affections, the loves and hates of mankind, make different claims upon the voluntary powers to exercise this cardinal virtue, self-control, in the interests of moral ends. For example, it is one's duty to control one's appetites, so far as their gratification interferes with the desire for property or for professional success, which desire in its turn ought to be tempered in the interests of one's affection for one's family or for the community of which one is a member. Thus the mind is led around to the same point of starting again. There are springs of action, desires and affections and longings, which ought to he allowed to control the conduct in preference to other springs of action. The perfectly moral man, in respect of this virtue of temperance, will not be the man without passions and desires ; much less will he be the man without strong affections and intense enthusiasms. The cold- blooded, unaffectionate, imperturbable man is not the Ideal Self. The exaltation which the ancient Stoical picture of the " good man " gave to this virtue of temperance was often itself intemperate, and therefore unsatisfactory to the most highly developed moral consciousness of mankind. Ardent desires for the various kinds of good, warm affections toward men in the different social relations, intense hatred of un- righteousness and of those who make prey of their fellows, and passionate devotion to righteousness, — these are not inconsistent with a virtuous self-control. But the full-orbed virtue is the Moral Self controlling its own springs of action in accordance with a rational pursuit of the Moral Ideal. In the general evolution of humanity there are three forms of this virtue which are most imperatively demanded by the very constitution of society, and in the interests of its per- petuation. These are the self-control of anger, of sexual appetite, and of the desire for property. Among the most undeveloped peoples ethically, the restriction of anger, lust, and avarice is necessarily provided for in some manner. Other- VIRTUES OF THE WILL 251 wise there could be no community life, no most rude and primi- tive organization of the family, no acquirement of property either by the individual or by the commune. Enforced control as respects these three forms of impulse nourishes the begin- nings of the virtue of temperance. The various concrete forms of this educative control by the community have, in- deed, so often been at variance with all the modern ideas of truth, justice, and good sense, as to conceal and perhaps, seemingly pervert their real ethical significance and value. But the real point which must be insisted upon as of impor- tance in framing a theory of the Virtuous Life remains fixed and luminous for the eye of the student of ethics whose insight is keen and penetrating. It is simply this : under all circumstances, and in all grades of human development, the good man must in some prescribed ways and to some obviously appreciable and worthy extent, voluntarily temper his anger, his lust, and his avarice, by consideration for the interests of others. Temperance or self-control in respect of the appetite of sex, the passion of anger, and the desire of property, is a virtue prescribed as necessary for even the most imperfect correspondence to the lowest conception of an ideal manhood. The natural passion of anger is part of the equipment which man has, in common with the other higher animals, to defend his interests of every kind against every species of attack. In its crudest form it expresses itself as the impulse to strike at once, to strike hard, and to maim or destroy the being which makes the attack. If, however, this passion cannot find such expression because of inability to get at the offender, or if it is restrained by some form of fear, it becomes the spirit of hatred and the desire for revenge. The indulgence, or rather the exercise, of anger becomes a matter of moral action, an affair of good or bad conduct, when it acquires those ethical qualifications of will, feeling, and judg- ment which characterize all forms of conduct properly so- 262 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT called. A being deficient in every phase and degree of this passion would, indeed, scarcely be capable of defending against attack any one of the many human interests ; but a being incapable of developing the virtue of temperance in the control of anger would remain still beastly in this respect. The higher in the scale of values stands the interest which is attacked, the more reasonable and even praiseworthy the anger may become ; but always only if it is tempered by the will under the influence of the appropriate motives. These motives may lie either in kindly feelings, or in some form of just judgment respecting the merits of the case, or in regard to the consequences upon ourselves and others of either the indulgence or the repression of the anger. But all these so-called motives represent aspects of that selfhood which corresponds to the moral ideal; and into that ideal Moral Self temperate anger must enter as an important phase of its Virtuous Life. Even the Personal Absolute cannot be conceived of as an ethically Ideal Self without laying empha- sis on his voluntary and affective resentment at whatever attacks those interests that are of the highest worth. The crudest and most primitive way of bringing about the initial steps in the self-control of anger is the punishment of its expression by returning the consequences in kind. Life for life, an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. And amongst peoples of the lower stages of ethical development, — savages of the twentieth century B. c, or of the twentieth century a. d., and whether situate in ancient Egypt or in modern England, in ancient Mexico or in America of to-day, — the punishment for indulging anger, like the original in- dulgence in the anger, is a matter of good or bad conscience. That is to say, the deed is approbated as obligatory by the ethical judgment of the doer, or it is disapproved and re- warded accordingly. Nor is the ethics of these complex reciprocities essentially altered by all manner of startlingly false conceptions of per- VIRTUES OF THE WILL 253 sonality and personal responsibility. Where the passions are hot and unrestrained by refined moral motives, and where human life is cheap, one deed of blind, impulsive rage may kindle a bloody feud which will involve scores of men, and last through generations as yet unborn when the deed was committed. So in ancient Germany, whose poet Beowulf treats the punishment of Cain for Abel's murder as a divine act of blood-revenge. Here " came the great step of civiliza- tion which compounded a murder by the payment of a definite price" (the wergild^ or man-price).^ The very unutilitarian method of expressing the disapproval of one angry killing by more of vengeful killing now gives place to a method which tends to make a prudential virtue out of the self-control of the passion. Thus, the impression is deepened that such con- duct does not pay. In other cases, as in the Hebrew law, for example,^ the custom of blood-revenge was tempered by introducing the distinction between accidental killing and deliberate, malicious murder, and by interposing some repre- sentation of the public sentiment and authority between the culprit and his punishment (in this case, " the elders of his city," who were to " send and fetch him thence, and deliver him into the hand of the avenger of blood"). "Besides spiritual terrors," says Farrer,^ " secular punishment has a well-defined place among savages, to check the extreme in- dulgence of hatred or passion. It is doubtful whether any tribe is so indifferent to the criminality of murder as to be destitute of customary penal laws to prevent or punish it." There are not wanting traces, however, even among those low down in the scale of ethical development, of a more enlightened judgment and a better sentiment as to the wrong of intemperate anger. In the same Deuteronomic code which enjoins the slaughter of women and children in the city 1 See Gummere, Germanic Origins, p. 178. 2 See Deut. xix. * Primitive Manners and Customs, p. 106. 254 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT which resists the Israelites, is found not only the injunction to love one's neighbor, but the command, " Love ye therefore the stranger: for ye were strangers in the land of Egypt." While the savage blood and ferocious customs of the ances- tors of those races which consider themselves " superior " are still frequently shown in lynchings and other brutalities at home and in shocking barbarities in foreign war, it is fair not to forget what Buddhism has done to temper anger and to encourage pity, gentleness, and kindness amongst millions of the so-called " inferior " races. And if the modern Italian still extols the sweetness and commends the duty of revenge, the Yorubas of Central Africa may certainly extend to him a fit invitation to reflect upon the ethical spirit of some of the maxims current among them : " Ashes fly back in the face of the thrower." "He who injures another injures himself." " Anger benefits no one." " We should not treat others with contempt." " He that forgives gains the victory." It is instructive to notice how these " savage (?) proverbs " touch at a vital point almost all the motives which may be pleaded in behalf of the virtue of temperance as the self- control of the natural passion of anger. It should be culti- vated as a prudential virtue ; for intemperate anger injures him who indulges it as surely as ashes thrown against the wind fly back in the face of the thrower. And society re- ceives no benefit from such anger. For although the rational and tempered anger of the good man is an indispensable and priceless safeguard of social interests, a prime social virtue, savage rage " benefits no one." Men generally regard others as like themselves, worthy of being treated otherwise than in blind rage or sullen contempt ; while the dignity and worth of not only the restraint of anger but even, and especially, of the spirit that goes beyond and stands ready to pardon the injury which has caused the anger, belong to the man who, by virtue of his own rational Will, has made a conquest of his lower self. To conquer thus one's self is better than to take a city. VIRTUES OF THE WILL 255 While, then, this particular form of temperance has a hard lot amongst men in their lowest, and still low, stage of moral evolution, the germinal ideas and sentiments from which the virtue may be developed are widely sown in human minds, if they are not everywhere present. And the ancient Scandinavian who boasts : " I have walked with bloody brand and whistling spear, with the wound-bird following me," has perhaps not more truly submerged this virtue in his false ideal of bravery than his modern descendant, who is ready to kill or to refrain from killing, in accordance with his idea of the interests of trade, has lost sight of the same virtue in a dominant avariciousness. Some kind of self-control of the sexual appetite also is ex- acted by the prevalent customs, laws, and ethical ideals, under all conditions and in even the lowest stages of man's ethical development. But the great variety of customs, laws, and ideals which give sanction to the relations of the sexes as dependent upon this appetite has already been noticed (p. 120 f). "The morality of the family is varied and changeable" ; and, indeed, as the writer from whom I quote this sentence,^ and others have sufficiently shown, there is no other matter of morals upon which such widely and startlingly different judgments and practices may be adduced as upon this : What relations of the sexes are right, what wrong ; or how shall the sexual appetite be controlled in the interests of the truly virtuous life ? On the one hand, we find the most refined Christian morals of to-day limiting the gratification of the appetite of sex to a chaste monogamous marriage, and still, although somewhat doubtfully, defending the limitation by reference to some moral intuition or even to some primitive divine command. But, on the other hand, the student of human history discovers almost every kind of license permitted at some time and somewhere — in respect of the limits of consanguinity, of 1 Schurman, The Ethical Import of Darwinism, p. 258. 256 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT the number of wives or husbands, of the period during which the relations ought to hold good, of the grounds on which the relations may properly be severed, and of frequency of indul- gence, etc. In Milton's apostrophe to marriage, <* Hail, wedded love, mysterious law, true source Of human oifspring, sole propriety 111 Paradise of all things common else," poetical expression is given to one form of thought as to what is commanded by the virtue of temperance in this regard. Standing at the other extreme are such views as those of the Mexicans, who held the possession of a large number of wives to be a proof of superiority ; or the Ashantee law, which al- lowed the king three thousand three hundred and thirty-three wives ; or the right yielded to the king of Yoruba to have as many wives as, linked hand in hand, would reach across his kingdom. Somewhere between stands the tempered indulgence permitted by custom to the patriarchs, or to their descendants by the Mosaic law ; and, indeed, the ethical theories, and practices of the multitude amongst modern Christian nations. And then there is the position taken by the Confucian ethics in Old Japan, which, apparently, attached no moral signifi- cance whatever to the intercourse of the sexes in itself consid- ered, but only as it became dependent upon the supreme virtue of personal loyalty. The reasons for such great divergence in the views and practices of men as to what ought to be the temperate, ration- ally self-controlled indulgence of the sexual appetite, although in certain respects obscure, are in the main not impossible to appreciate. They may be touched upon in the following line of considerations. The appetite of sex is, with the exception of the appetite for food and drink, the most imperative of the bodily impulses. In the language of Schopenhauer, " in this act the most decided assertion of the will to live expresses it- self." The general gratification of the appetite in some form VIRTUES OF THE WILL 257 is essential to the very continuance of the human species. " Therefore it is this act through which every species of living creature binds itself to the whole and is perpetuated." Inas- much, however, as there is an obvious connection between this voluntary act and the origin and perpetuation of life, that eternal and inscrutable mystery, the exercise and the control of the function have always been closely connected with the religious ideas and practices of mankind. The phallus was worshipped by the Greeks ; the lingam is wor- shipped by the Hindus of to-day. But man, in this respect as in other respects, has much more decided preferences and choices than have the lower animals : and the very physio- logical characteristics of the human offspring necessitate some at least rude and inchoate form of the family. More- over, the interests of society become immediately and deeply involved in the union of the sexes. Of necessity a community of human beings cares more, because it has more varied and vital interests involved, how its males and females are paired than do flocks of birds or herds of cattle. But chiefly is it because the higher, tenderer, and nobler affections of man are most powerfully enlisted in connection with the exercise of the sexual functions that their control is of the highest import, not only as a matter of social custom and morals, but also as a matter of essential morality. It is not strange, therefore, that an almost bewildering difference of conceptions and customs should characterize the judgments of men as to what constitutes the virtue of tem- perance in sexual intercourse. Even the practices and the sanctions of man's religious life throw little clear light upon the path of virtue in this regard. It is plainly the will of God that the will to live should be satisfied, by some form of uniting the sexes. But if man looks to the various forces and processes of nature for guidance, the utmost confu- sion of conceptions is the inevitable result. Quite commonly an important part of nature worship is phallic worship ; and 17 258 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT when religious evolution has reached the stage in which the gods are conceived of as persons similar to heroic and kingly men, their example is an encouragement to unbridled lust rather than to its temperate control. Such was the case in ancient Greece ; such is the case in India to-day. Indeed, in the latter country the British Government is still compelled to make an exception to the laws prohibiting obscene litera- ture, in favor of religious (!) books ; and the sacred interests of morality and religion are continually pleaded by the most orthodox of the Hindus against the attempts made by their own reformers to promote the increase of sexual temperance and self-restraint. Nor does it appear, until after a lengthy, complicated, and even conflicting experience, what forms and limits of the control of the sexual appetite are actually productive of the best results. The consequences of the im- moral indulgence of this appetite are often most remote and difficult to trace. And then, how irregular and fitful do these consequences seem to be ! Relatively gross indulgences are not infrequently concealed or their bad results lie latent; while quite as frequently the least immoral, or even a small legitimate indulgence, is promptly followed by the most appal- ling evils. Yet the other side of this universal human experience must not be neglected. Some self-control, a measure of tempering for this form of desire, is universally demanded of the man who will lay claim to the title "good." For the formal and legitimate union of the sexes the barrier of some sort of ceremony must in almost all instances be passed. Among savages it is a common rule of etiquette that a proposal for marriage shall be approached indirectly ; generally it is deemed right that the male shall show his insistence by pursuing or even violently carrying off his bride, and that the female shall show her modesty by some, at least pretended, form of coyness or resistance. The limits within which marriage may lawfully take place are everywhere VIRTUES OF THE WILL 259 somehow fixed, although the manner of their adjustment varies indefinitely. The Hindu Kooch incurs a fine if he marries a woman of another clan; the Abors consider marriage out of the clan as a sin to be washed out only by sacrifice ; but among the Thlinkeets the young warrior of the totem of the Wolf must seek his bride among the maidens of the totem of the Raven. Almost everywhere adultery on the woman's part, if without consent of her hus- band, is punishable with death. Amongst the Germanic nations '' the church has the credit of forcing law and senti- ment to take cognizance of the husband's crime as well ! " Slowly, and more especially among these same nations, the standard of sexual virtue has, at least as far as the sentiments and open practices of the majority are concerned, been rising. And there are few indeed now whose judgment is worth re- specting, that do not identify the virtue of sexual temperance with monogamic marriage, and with such indulgence of ap- petite in this relation as is consistent with the higher interests involved. It appears, then, that the regulation of the appetite of sex 'f is a species of temperance in the larger meaning of this word. It is, that is to say, a form of the voluntary control of a natural and legitimate desire within the limits rationally permissible in accord with the pursuit of the ideals of a Virtu- ous Life. These limits are themselves the result of a histori- cal evolution which has defined them more and more clearly, and has enforced them by more and more powerful sanctions, as the gathered experience of the race has yielded more light upon the right path. But prominent among the different forms of this experience is the teaching and example of the Christian Church and the teaching of its founder : " Moses because of the hardness of your hearts suffered you to put away your wives ; but from the beginning it was not so." All other extensions of the limits, whether by way of legality or of custom, are thus declared to be concessive ; but the divine 260 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT ideal for the human species is a pair, faithful to each other and chastened by those ends that have value and are depend- ently connected with the married state. Another of the historically more prominent forms of the virtue of temperance is self-control over the desire of posses- sion, the impulse to acquire property. The desire " to have and to hold " for one's self all the various forms of good is natural and universal with man ; it is also indispensable for his material evolution and for the development of morality. No form of Communism is conceivable — not to say possible of actualization — which is not based upon the desire of property and the distinction between the vicious and the virtuous ways of gratifying this desire. Therefore some measure of the ex- ternal habits of honesty is esteemed good conduct under all conditions of human existence ; and much as men may differ as to what stealing is, or as to how much and what kinds of stealing are permissible, some formal regulation of the indivi- dual's tendency to appropriate the goods of life exclusively to himself is always provided for by the customs and laws of the community. Even the robber castes of India recognize this virtue as reciprocally obligatory upon the other members of the caste. With them, as with our wreckers of railroads and other plunderers of the public, even thieves must divide the spoils amongst themselves with some show of honesty ; and if brought before the standards of the prevailing moral con- sciousness of their own class, they must show reason why their conduct was not essentially dishonest after all. Here again the multiform curious discrepancies in the preva- lent customs and opinions regarding the nature of the virtue, the weird and strange ordeals to which suspected culprits are subjected, the startling differences in the forms and degrees of punishment inflicted for crimes of dishonesty, do not change the essential nature of the transaction, whether subjectively or objectively regarded. Thus if " the Guinea Coast negroes thought it reasonable to punish rich persons guilty of robbery VIRTUES OF THE WILL 261 more severely than the poor," they did not necessarily show themselves less appreciative of the crime of dishonesty than do the English of to-day, with their theoretical principle of impar- tiality before the law, for all ranks and degrees of wealth. The rich, argued the negroes, deserve more punishment, be- cause they are not urged to steal by necessity, and can better spare the fines of money laid on them. " The thief catches himself," and " Stolen goods do not make one grow," say the Basutos of South Africa. But the virtue of self-control over the desire of possession is not confined to matters of property in the narrower mean- ing of this word. Among the less civilized, the wives of any man are, of course, regarded as his rightful possession ; and the crime of adultery is punished not so much — or not at all — as an impurity, but rather as an act of robbery of that which belongs to another by right. So also to take another's picture, or to use his name, seems to many savages a similar sort of crime. To gain power over others by witchcraft or incantations and so to rob them of self-control or of the dues of service may also be regarded in nearly the same way. In our complicated modern life, where the " possessions " of man have became so much increased in number and magnitude, the various concrete forms of virtuous control over the desire for that which is not one's own, have themselves greatly in- creased. But the virtuousness of the virtue remains always the same. And the viciousness of the vice, too, — this is essentially identical in all times and under all circumstances ; it is the gratification of the lust of possession without regard to the moral ideals. When, as, alas ! so often happens in modern times amongst the most highly civilized nations — " civilized," that is to say, in the interests of commercialism and for the purpose largely of protecting the property rights of the individual and of the community — this lust can be gratified under the protection of the laws, it may become legalized and respected indeed, but it is no less essentially 262 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT immoral until it submits itself loyally and completely to the demands of moral principle. The custom and the law do indeed assist in defining the limits of a virtuous self-control. But if the self-control is not really exercised in the interests of the ideal of a virtuous life, compliance with custom and law is not morality. Indeed the custom and the law may combine to encourage this vice. For a time — but only for a time — the custom itself may be a species of robbery ; and the laws may be enacted in the interests of robbers. Many other forms of the virtue of temperance than these three might be mentioned and shown to be important parts of the Virtuous Life. For example, the rational self-control of the natural emotion of pride is the distinctively Christian virtue of Humility. But this virtue has been much misunderstood, — not only by the ancients, who found difficulty in detaching it from the suspicion of a certain baseness of spirit, but also by many modern writers. The genuine virtue of humility consists in the rational self-control of pride, primarily before God and chiefly with reference to one's own attainments and merits as measured by the standards of a perfect Moral Ideal. But before men, and in the face of every attempt to bribe or to threaten the soul away from devotion to its supreme spiritual interests, genuine humility is closely akin to, if not identical with, a certain noble haughtiness, or at least quiet self-reserve. And this is a virtue which, although distinct- ively Christian in the sense that it is a cardinal thing with the spirit of the true believer and was especially enjoined and needed in the early times of the Christian faith, has always and everywhere been recognized by the most thoughtful stu- dents of ethics. It is true that humility cannot easily flourish amongst those savage tribes whose successful struggle for ex- istence depends upon the practice of the tougher and more strenuous virtues. But, as I have just said, humility is not essentially inconsistent with courage ; in the long run, and in its more intelligent and refined forms, it is often the twin of VIRTUES OF THE WILL 263 courage in the successful struggle for the higher life. " Blessed are the meek : for they shall inherit the earth." When, where, and how ? these are questions which it will take a long time for the race to answer in a practical way. Still, even amongst the OjiSy one may find such a suggestion as gleams through the proverb : " If you can pull out, pull out your own gray hairs." In happier circumstances the moral truth lias been more reflectively and fully expressed in such wise sayings as follow : " As the tulip that is gaudy without smell, conspicuous without use, so is the man who setteth himself on high, and hath not merit." " Wherein art thou most weak ? In that wherein thou seemest most strong ; in that wherein most thou gloriest ; even in possessing the things which thou hast ; in using the good that is about thee." ^ Or, as the sacred saying of the Vaisnava Dharma is : " That man truly pronounces the name of tlie Loving Lord, who is in fortitude like the trunk of a tree, and in humility like a blade of grass." Temperance in eating and drinking are, to a certain extent, enforced upon those tribes and communities whose conditions of living are most nearly primitive. With them the meagre and fitful supply of food confines the vice of gluttony within narrow limits ; and the vice of drunkenness is also likely to be spasmodic rather than habitual. It is scarcely to the credit of any claim to superiority in rational self-control of these appetites, on the part of the most civilized peoples, that they have come to limit the popular meaning of the word temperance to the self-control, or the enforced external con- trol, of the appetite for drink. The history of the matter shows that habitual over-feeding and improper drinking are more particularly the vices of a civilization where luxury and w^ant exist side by side in extreme forms, or where some hardy race seeks relief in these ways from the monotony or 1 Taken from a book called " The Economy of Life " and purporting to be translated from an ancient manuscript discovered in Thibet and written by a Biahman. 264 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT the severitj of the conditions imposed upon it by its envi- ronment. The opposed virtues can never be widely and successfully cultivated except as the result of a more in- telligent self-control under the influence of an exalted moral ideal. That other Yirtue of the Will which I have called Con- stancy is yet more cardinal — were this possible — than are the virtues of courage and temperance. By constancy I understand that intelligent and steady habitual action of the will which follows in strong characters the commitment of the whole self to the pursuit of a deliberately chosen end of good. "Consistency," says Lotze,^ "is demanded in con- duct : only that which flows from such a constant character — rather than inconsequent ebullitions of fine feeling — ex- periences our moral approbation." " We demand that every single action be not at all times dependent on a hazardous struggle between character and the impulse of the moment. Bather does the moral habit, which makes the correct con- duct seem like a second nature, appear to us a much higher ideal of morality and as somewhat toward which, among other things, education has to strive." The virtues, according to Aristotle,^ are all " habits or trained faculties." Constancy, then, is the essential of every virtuous character, in so far as virtue is a matter of will. It is that interpenetrating and all-suffusing quality of moral selfhood which every form of the so-called virtues must have, in order to the realization of any even imperfect ideal of the Virtuous Life. In chosen courses of conduct it secures uniformity and dependableness ; in the service of one's superiors, of one's country, or of humanity, it manifests itself as faithful obedience ; in matters of sentiment and of behavior towards others, it is the much -prized char- acteristic of loyalty ; in devotion to the rational life, it is the very bone of veracity. On the contrary, every virtue is either 1 Outlines of Practical Philosophy, p. 30 f . 2 Nic. Eth., II, passim. VIRTUES OF THE WILL 265 ftiarred or spoiled by the vice of fickleness and inconstancy. Of Reuben, said Israel, — though he was his firstborn, his might, " the beginning of strength, the excellency of dignity, and the excellency of power " : " Unstable as water, thou shalt not excelP Steadfastness of purpose is, psychologically con- sidered, the one indispensable condition of virtuous character, the very core of right and dutiful manhood. It is justly admired under all circumstances, and in every stage of moral development. Even bad men are given for this type of char- acter a credit and an admiration which are not merely assthet- ical but are also ethical. And the verdict of the populace, as well as of all writers on ethics, accords with the declaration of Scripture (Jas. i. 7 f.) : " A double-minded man is unstable in all his ways." And " let not that man think that he shall receive anything of the Lord." It is scarcely necessary, however, to call attention at length to the danger of mistaking the psychological nature of this virtue of the will. Constancy is certainly not to be con- founded with obstinacy, or with " blind will " (provided even that we admit the propriety of any such term as hlind will). Indeed, although constancy in any particular course of con- duct may easily enough be accused of obstinacy by the oppo- nents of this course, the two are so different that obstinacy cannot even properly be regarded as the shamming of con- stancy. The man who will not hear to reason is unwise, the man who prefers to listen and commit himself to the inferior good is morally foolish. Such refusal is the essence of obstinacy, and is not to be confounded with the virtue of constancy even when this virtue, like all the other qualified virtues, is enlisted in a bad cause. Neither can persistence in an evil course of conduct convert that conduct from the one ethical category of " bad " into the other of " good " con- duct. None the less, however, is constancy always a genuine virtue of the will. The solution of such a seeming paradox is to be reached in the following way : Particular pieces of 266 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT conduct or aspects of character are called good or bad, ethi- cally, according as they do, or do not, correspond to the Moral Ideal. Repetition of these acts constitutes, therefore, either a good character and a virtuous life or a bad character and a vicious life. For the principle of habit is fundamental in the growth of character, and the laws of development ex- tend over the entire life. He, then, who at any time shows that power of will which induces a change from a bad to a good course of conduct makes the kind of a choice which is a highly important initial step in the path of all virtuous liv- ing. But constancy of will is essential to the fuller realiza- tion of this life. He who has hitherto been bad, because he has applied this essential characteristic of the virtues to vicious ends in vicious ways, is the more sure thereby of a success- ful issue when he changes his conduct to the pursuit of the higher ideals. Steadiness of purpose, although attained and exercised in vicious ways, when converted, gives more assur- ance of success than do tlie fitful yieldings of the fickle man to the demands and persuasions of a disapproving conscience, even if continued through the whole life. In all moral concernment, however. Habit is powerful over all; the bad man will necessarily become the weaker in re- spect of the possibility of changing to virtuous courses, and hardened in his commitment to vicious courses. But how- ever it needs to be " qualified " by all these considerations, steadfastness of purpose, planful and constant self-control, remains a cardinal virtue of will. There are several particular subordinate phases or complex combinations of these cardinal Virtues of the Will which are themselves recognized as separate virtues, in some sort within the scheme approved by the moral judgment of mankind. Such are patience, endurance, sobriety, industry, perseverance, etc. The exercise of all these virtues makes draughts upon the power of self-control under the hard circumstances, or in the presence of the seductions and temptations which every- VIRTUES OF THE WILL 267 where and inevitably belong to human life. The patient, enduring, and persevering man must have a steady, temper- ate, and courageous self-control. The industry and sobriety which are chosen in the interest of the legitimate ends of life, and which bring satisfaction to the moral consciousness, are therefore entitled to be considered virtuous forms of self- control ; for the temptations to laziness, impatience, and self- indulgence are pervasive and strong. But there are relatively narrow limits to all these subordinate virtues : there are wrongs before which patience is not the cardinal virtue ; insults and attacks that ought not to be endured ; innocent mistakes in chosen courses of conduct in which one ought not to per- severe. There are also ethical as well as physical limitations to industry ; and recreation and play may become imperative duties. Neither can it be said that the good man will be always "sober," unless a very generous interpretation be given to the word. If it be not true, as Aristotle taught, that a " refined and gentlemanly wittiness " is itself a virtue, it is certainly permissible to be witty in consistency with the limitations set by other forms of virtuous conduct. And per- haps one may fitly end such a discussion by saying, as does Orsino in Crawford's Corleone : " I believe that the chief real wickedness is in doing nothing at all ; " or, " Sloth is one of the capital sins," as Yittoria observed, who knew the names of all seven. When all these virtues of the will are combined in good proportion and fair mixture in one person, and that person is in their exercise fully committed through a long life to the realization of lofty and morally worthy ideals, we behold a character which the cultured moral consciousness approbates and thinks most worthy of reward. This is also the character which, under the conditions of human life is likeliest to succeed in doing the work of life. A loyal and a royal man, — brave, temperate, constant, and with an unchanging courage and moderation of his own desires committed to his 268 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT highest ideals, — a faithful soul ; such is he whom others esteem to be, so far as will can make one, the man of the virtuous life. He it is of whom they say : *' Languor is not in your heart, Weakness is not in your word, Weariness not on your brow.' ' CHAPTER XII VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT : WISDOM, JUSTNESS, ETC. The considerations which justify and explain the title of this chapter have already been presented with considerable detail. They show that certain kinds of conduct which men agree to call good, and which are indeed essential character- istic forms of the Virtuous Life, depend upon the culture and use of the judging faculty. It will be well, however, before proceeding to determine what these forms are, and how it is that intelligence takes its place as an essential element in all moral goodness, to subject some of the most important of these considerations to a brief restatement. I shall do this, emphasizing the following four points : — First : Judgment about matters of conduct is itself a species of conduct. And inasmuch as most judgments have some either direct or remote reference to conduct, most judgments are liable at any moment in human experience to be brought under the rubric of conduct. By a man of " good judg- ment," then, is fitly meant what the popular speech usually means, viz., one who uses his judging faculty in a morally worthy way. Second: In all the language and usages of men which have a bearing upon this subject, this true and profound psychology of the judgment is implied. Judging is not con- ceived of as a mere getting together, much less as a mere sequence, under the laws of association, of memory-images or products of the phantasy. Neither is judgment regarded by men generally as a merely formal and, as it were, passive 270 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT collocation or connection of conceptions or of so-called abstract ideas, /judge ; and this has reference to a voluntary and synthetic activity. The judgment is mine, as belonging to an active Self. The ideas or conceptions, which logic regards as somehow being together^ the language of men agrees with a vital psychology as regarding under terms of a connec- tion effected by a living Will. What wonder, then, that the inclination of mankind is strong to hold — each one, the other — responsible for his judgment. The exhortation, then, to take heed how one judges is deserving of regard, not simply on prudential but also on more distinctively ethical grounds. Third : The part which judgment takes in the conduct of the Virtuous Life is integral and essential. Judging well is not simply preliminary to virtue, or merely accessory to good conduct ; neither is the part of judgment in morality fully discharged ex post facto, as it were, when the virtuous or vicious act comes before the bar of the intellect to have its moral quality estimated. Intellect judges conduct ; how and why it judges at all, and judges as it actually does, has already been made clear in the discussion of the origin and nature of ethical judgment. Plato was, indeed, wrong when he went so far as to make virtue always coincident with knowledge ; it contradicts the facts of experience to hold that men do wrong only because they do not know the beauty and the real worth of the higher good. Neither as accordant with facts, nor as tenable theory of the riglit and wrong in conduct, is it true that " all men are always invohmtarily bad." ^ It is not even true that the cardinal virtues of judgment — as, for example, Wisdom — are wholly identical with " thought on moral subjects " {(j)p6v7}cn<;). Feeling and will enter into every species of conduct ; and without these aspects of the moral self participating no virtue is possible. But, on the other hand, the same thing is true of intellect. In its supreme function- 1 Laws, p. 860 C ; and on the Ethics of Plato see Sir A. Grant : The Ethics of Aristotle, I, essay III, and Thos. Maguire, Essays on the Platonic Ethics. VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 271 ing by way of judgment, it is necessarily a participant in every virtuous or vicious act. What is done blindly — wholly blindly — loses all the characteristics, both intellectual and voluntary, of a genuine piece of conduct. What is done deliberately is more particularly ethical in its characteristics ; but deliberation is itself a voluntary exercise of the judging faculty. What is done with the whole Self — this it is which bears to the fullest possible extent, the stamp of the coin that is either genuine or counterfeit in the kingdom where right and wrong doing are matters of the supreme value. Voluntary judgment, feeling motive, deliberate choice, — thus the entire unitary being of the Moral Self commits itself to the conse- quences, internal and external, subjective and objective, of what is the expression of its own deepest life. Fourth : But while all virtues involve intellect, feeling, and will, and some virtues are chiefly of the will, some other virtues may properly bear the title " virtues of the judgment." Wherever the relation which the judging function bears to truth and reality is the prominent characteristic of the good or bad conduct, there the virtue or the vice may properly be spoken of in this way. It must be remembered, however, that we are treating of real virtues and not of their appear- ances or of the opposite vices which so often are the shams of the real virtues. For just as seeming courage may often result from real cowardice or from insensibility to some particular kind of fear, so seeming wisdom may be due to real timidity or to a selfish reserve of one's strength, or to neglect of one's opportunities. Just as temperance may be only the expression of another form of uncontrolled desire (like the miser's abstinence fi'om food and drink), so what men call justice is not uncommonly the expression of merely prudential or positively selfish impulses. The Virtues of Judgment, then, are those forms of con- duct whose goodness or badness, in the ethical meaning of these words, depends chiefly upon the character of the judg- 272 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT ing function which enters into them. Of such virtues the following three are most cardinal and comprehensive ; — namely, Wisdom, Justness, and a certain other form of good judgment which I will call, Trueness. Wisdom as a virtue is moral, and therefore voluntary, judgment having reference to the ends of life, and to the means of attaining these ends. It is the Moral Self exercis- ing its power of judgment in conduct regarded as the pursuit of some form of good. The virtue may either terminate in the act of judging, or it may require for its completion and manifestation some further motor elements. Indeed, since wisdom is essentially a judgment with reference to conduct, there is usually something to be done by somebody in order that the virtue may not spend itself in mere judgment as it were. When the action which is necessary to realize the wise conclusion devolves upon the very same person who has reached the conclusion, the failure to act certainly detracts from the popular estimate of the original virtue. Indeed, those who are wise to counsel others to virtuous conduct, but who do not conduct themselves in accordance with their own wise counsels, are apt to be esteemed bad, rather than good men. Here, however, as usual, what is needed in order to understand the psychological nature of this virtue is a more discriminating analysis. To adjudicate wisely the value of ends, and the means of attaining ends that have value, is a virtue — not merely an intellectual excellence, but a species of morally right conduct. But habitually to disregard in thought the ideal ends of life may not improperly be said to be essentially vicious. " Frivolity," says Humboldt, " under- mines all morality and permits no deep thought or pure feeling to germinate ; in a frivolous soul nothing can emanate from principle, and sacrifice and self-conquest are out of the question." To act in accordance with wise judgment usually requires courage, temperance, constancy, and all the other virtues of VIETUES OP THE JUDGMENT 273 the will. To be lacking in these is to be not virtuous ; it is to be, on the contrary, guilty of certain vices that are them- selves contrary to, and destructive of, the higher wisdom. Moreover, that principle of moral development must be reck- oned with which makes the habitual failure to do what judg- ment dictates ought to be done, react upon the judging faculty so as to render it obscure and blind. For the mind, in conduct and in the development of character, is such a unity of interdependent functions, that its vicious or defective working in any one important respect makes itself felt in all respects. For example, if courage should be wise, wisdom should be courageous, in order that both may be at their best. The most important respects in which the virtue of wisdom needs to be exercised are three in number : (1) the evaluation of ends, with a view to determine their relative worth ; (2) the estimate of means, with a view to determine their effective- ness (often relative also) for the realization of ends; and (3) the appreciation of those limitations which concern both the ends and the means, but which belong to the natural and social environment of man. Wisdom in the evaluation of ends is sometimes called the " higher " wisdom ; in the esti- mate of means the same virtue may be considered as a practi- cal wisdom, the quality which belongs to the deliberate judgments of the expert. But a due appreciation of the limita- tions of life is the intellectual essential of that rare and holy complex of virtues which may fitly be called a wise Resigna- tion. I shall consider briefly these three forms of exhibiting the virtue of wisdom. In each of these three forms of wisdom one may discover what is the essential difference between knowledge and wis- dom. Knowledge, too, culminates in that activity which is the supreme expression of man's intelligence, — namely, in the judgment. But wisdom always implies an estimate of some kind of value ; and the judgment into which the quality of the virtue enters has reference to something conceived of 18 274 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT as dependent — in some way and to some extent — upon per- sonal will. If nothing which comes into our human lives had worth in human estimates, there could be no virtuous judg- ment, no wise man ; and even when men discuss the wisdom of a constitution of the universe over which human wills have no control, the very problem — Is this constitution of the universe wise or not ? — implies the conception that It is dependent upon the Absolute Will. The highest conceivable manifestation of wisdom consists in the right, because rational, evaluation of those ends of life which can be, at least partially and approximately, reached by courses of human conduct. We have already seen (Chap. Ill) that men recognize different goods to be pursued ; and that these goods are recognized as not only differing in degrees within themselves but also as differing between themselves in kind. The good which morality exalts is the Moral Self real- izing its ends in the Virtuous Life. When, then, any problem arises concerning the end toward which it is wise to direct one's energies, this general principle will always be given the chief place : it is always true wisdom devotedly and unswerv- ingly to follow the ideal of the virtuous life. It is true wisdom always to set the problem of conduct before one in the following way : what is right and best (as having most moral value) to be done ? The problem being proposed in this form, the syllog- ism along which the wise man's intelligence proceeds to the judgment, may be naively expressed thus : major premise — It is always wise to do what is right ; minor premise — This is right ; conclusion — Therefore this is wise. Certainly, like all other general principles and like all the devices of a so-called " pure " logic to advise men what conclusions they shall arrive at, this syllogism settles nothing as to what is right, and therefore nothing as to what is wise. But it describes the atti- tude toward his ideal of a virtuous life in which every man per- sistently and intelligently stands, who is truly wise. This attitude of soul is itself a virtue of the highest degree of VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 275 excellence. It succeeds, when perfect, in making the higher wisdom appear coextensive with the entire rational content of virtue. Nor can it be claimed that this relatively abstract form of the virtue of wisdom is of little or no practical value. Ques- tions as to what conduct is wise, what not, are often compli- cated enough. Many such questions can never be solved by a judgment which is quite clear and self-confident ; and the entirely clear and wholly self-confident judgment of one man will not infrequently be exactly the opposite of that of another equally trustworthy judge. God pity us all if we are habitually tempted to think our wisdom of the highest and most com- plete ! None the less, for the man who is in process of that discipline which alone can give the conquest of the Virtuous Life, the supreme obligation is to choose the end that seems to him to have the highest worth, to remain unswervingly faith- ful to it, and so to be wise, — however many faults of judgment he may commit in his decisions about the means of realizing this end. Neither is it true that such wisdom is not defin- itively practical. For in the majority of instances men know well enough how to supply the middle term and so to form the minor premise. They know what is right. But they think to be wise enough to make what they know is not right serve fairly well in the place of the right. To do this habitually is to be really unwise ; it may in the end amount to the rankest and most mischievous folly. The ends of truly virtuous living are themselves manifold and admit of being arranged in some sort of a scale of values. Hence many complicated and perplexing problems arise with respect to the subordination of these ends. To be always just is one such end ; to be always kind is another. To make others happy is a virtuous thing to choose ; but to make others strong to resist temptation and able to figlit manfully the bat- tle of life is certainly no less virtuous. Which of the various ends it is wise to emphasize most, whether habitually or on 2T6 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT any particular occasion, demands some special wisdom of judgment ; and no so-called moralist can give rules which will dispense with the patient mastery of the details that belong to the preparation for wise judgment. Hence, the higher wis- dom is the steadfast attitude of one's moral self, as a judge, toward one's moral ideals. Practical wisdom as a virtue, in the narrower meaning of the phrase, has reference chiefly to judgments concerning the right means to be employed in attaining the ends of life. But these means are far more complicated and intricate than are the ends themselves. Furthermore, so far as they are the objects of the wise man's judgment, the employment of them is a matter of conduct. In not a few instances, too, certain means involve action which is prejudicial to some form of good, or even destructive to the securing, by others, of the things on which they have set their hearts. Hence the questions. What means shall be selected ? and How far shall the particular means once chosen be pushed forward against the wishes or the rights of others ? become exceedingly dif- ficult ethical problems. The solution of such problems of conduct requires the application of a large and varied stock of knowledge in the form of wise judgments. For moral judgment about appropriate means for the realizing of one's chosen plans has to consider — not simply what means are hest, because likeliest to bring about the desired result, but also what means are permissible in accordance with the prin- ciples of a virtuous life. The good man may not realize all his chosen ends by the use of any kind of instrumentality. This would not be wise, with the wisdom of virtue, although it might be shrewd, masterful, and successful. More and more, as the experience of the individual accu- mulates and the scientific knowledge of the race gives to it increased mastery over the resources of nature and over the gathered results of past discoveries and achievements, do problems of the use of means demand special and expert VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 277 information. At the same time, many means for achieving desirable results which were wholly lacking in past times, are now ready at hand for general use. It is the part of wisdom to know what these means are, and to know how to use them. One can heartily sympathize then with the indignation which I have, in a clinic, heard a surgeon pour upon the parents of a boy allowed to grow up with an unstraightened spine or an uncorrected club-foot. He who, when important human in- terests are involved, will take no pains to know what course of conduct to pursue, or, in case he cannot himself judge fitly of the means, will not even try to know who the judges are, is foolish in an immoral way. In modern life, therefore, the place of the expert is destined to become increasingly impor- tant. It is wise, it requires good moral judgment, to provide pure water, clean streets, effective protection against crime and fire, and to organize schools and other institutions that make for good citizenship. It is unwise, it is distinctly im- moral judgment, and wicked conduct, which disregards the opinions and counsels of those who know, and who are there- fore entitled by their wisdom to decide in the interests of the people. That king is saved by his wisdom who, knowing himself to be a fool in need of counsel, is wise enough to choose wise counsellors and to follow their advice. But woe to the nation that is guided either by its own unintelligent im- pulses, however brave or generous in themselves, or by counsellors and legislators that, however shrewd in political manipulation, have little or no true wisdom ! Courage and gen- erous expenditure of treasure and blood may save that people from some of the effects of its folly, but courage and gener- osity can never take the legitimate place of that cardinal virtue of good judgment which is called Wisdom. In those communities which are low in the scale of ethical evolution practical wisdom occupies a most important place amongst the cardinal virtues. The man who is wise in coun- cil is the running mate of the man who is brave in war. That 278 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT tribe or nation is well equipped with the most essential excel- lences for its existence, and for its welfare, which has its young men courageous warriors and its old men wise, " not in part nor in any particular thing (as Homer says in the Margites — 'Him the gods gave no skill with spade or plough, Nor made him wise in aught'), but generally wise." This wisdom (cro^ia) which is " the union of intuitive reason with scientific knowledge, or scien- tific knowledge of the noblest objects with its crowning per- fection added to it," ^ has always been a virtue highly prized. In its very nature it is a mixture of the higher wisdom and practical wisdom (but not necessarily the knowledge of a specialist in any one line). It was for this that the Sophists were, so far as admired at all for wisdom, justly admired. It was this which Socrates, as not wise but a " lover of wisdom," wished to substitute for the sophistical pretence of wisdom. It is this kind of wisdom which, no less rare, is no less to be prized and is even more difficult in our complicated modern life. Who is the wise man of to-day ? He who, adjudging to the various ends of life the value which really belongs to them, judges correctly also as to the means to be employed in real- izing these ends, — and all in consistency with the ideal of virtuous living. But wisdom, like courage and temperance, has its imitators, the shams that sometimes seem the same with the virtue, but are often really the vices most unlike its genuine form. One of these shams of wisdom is the unfounded conceit of knowl- edge, which is all the more effective if the supposed content of the knowledge be something wholly esoteric and hidden from the common herd ; and if the knowing subject be shrewd enough to be chary about exposing his wisdom to the tests of reality or of the sound judgment of other men. It is recently 1 Nic. Eth., VI, vii. VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 279 reported that a new Grand Llama has been proclaimed in Thibet ; and he will be worshipped by the people as incom- parably wise in matters extremely occult and of the highest import ; but it will doubtless be the better for him not to talk too freely, but to allow his owlish look and dignified silence to be mistaken for the supremacy of wisdom. To this class of the pretences of a noble virtue belong most of the theories and practical judgments of what goes under the name of theosophy, " Christian " and not a few other forms of " science falsely so-called," together with the practices of palmistry, fortune-telling, oneiromancy, and what not. In saying this I do not mean, of course, to deny that all or any of these sub- jects admit of investigation with a view to determine knowl- edge, and of that sound moral judgment respecting the conduct connected with them which is the essence of the virtue of wisdom. But most undoubtedly the far greater part of this sort of wisdom is only a pretence of virtue which either arises from ignorance and folly, or is more positively vicious on account of the large admixture with it of mental laziness and of falsehood. Most pernicious, perhaps, of all the shams of wisdom is that low-lived shrewdness in business which stands ready to abrogate or avoid every principle belonging to the higher wisdom, if only the chosen end of commercial prosperity can be secured. From the cardinal virtue of the judgment which is called Wisdom flow several subordinate but important forms of right conduct that are themselves entitled to a place in any com- plete catalogue of the virtues. These may more properly be called the genuine prudential virtues. Here we return to a subject already touched upon (see p. 240 f.), and are prepared to regard it from another and higher point of view. What is popularly called prudence is not a virtue, but is rather the vice of cowardice, when it consists merely in the yielding to some unworthy form of fear. But, as we have just seen, it is not easy to gain one's lawful ends, however worthy, or even 280 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT to gain the use of the means which are likely to be most ser- viceable in the pursuit of these ends. Especially do the vir- tues of justice and kindness toward our fellow men hedge in and move athwart the path along which seems to lie the way to success in attaining the aims of life. Indeed these virtues are essential parts of human life ; all virtues are social and have regard to our fellow men. Therefore wisdom in the form of prudence, or, rather, wisdom showing intrinsic excel- lence as moral judgment in various forms of prudent conduct, is a marked characteristic of the truly good man. Wisdom itself, although a cardinal virtue, is qualified by the other car- dinal virtues of justice, kindness, etc. But it, in turn, quali- fies them ; kindness and even justice, must be wise, in order to reach their highest estate. And thus the wise man will be cautious in action, where the virtue of caution is demanded ; and he will be deliberate and fair minded in making up his opinion, where the virtue of deliberation can fitly be secured. He will be provident with respect to the present and future risks of life, considerate of the feelings and interests of his fellows, judicious in selecting his associates and in respect of the trusts which he reposes in other men, and discreet in his selection of means for realizing his own plans and in his adaptation of these means to their appointed work. Nowhere else is the virtue of wisdom as a matter of poli- tics more forcefully commended than in these words of the Hebrew law-giver : " Keep therefore and do them (i. e., the divine statutes and judgments) ; for this is your wisdom and your understanding in the sight of the nations, which shall hear all these statutes, and say, Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people." Perhaps the loftiest, and often the most pathetic, exhibition which the truly wise man can make of his wisdom is in the form of Resignation, or voluntary and intelligent judgment in view of the limitations which belong inevitably to the life of the individ- ual and of the race. Ideals of every kind, the more they are VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 281 contemplated and subjected to thoughtful consideration, the more do they rise and expand themselves before the mind. The more passionately, enthusiastically, and hopefully they are pursued, the more bitter the strife becomes to attain them, the more inevitable the disappointment over the very partial character of the realization of them which human efforts can secure. But the nature of morality requires the devoted and unswerving pursuit of one of the loftiest and most unattain- able of all human ideals ; this is — to speak only, for the pres- ent, from the point of view which I am holding — the reality of the Virtuous Life, in its perfection as an Ideal. Speak as one may of moral freedom, and exalt as one will the power of man to realize his noblest ambitions, the Koran is truer to experience in declaring that a man might as well hope to cross the gulf of hell on a hair as to live a life wholly without wrong-doing, than he would be who should claim the ability, in fact, to realize this ideal of perfectly virtuous living. To relinquish the pursuit of the ideal is to drop down from the demands of the higher wisdom to the level of a wrong tolerance of vice : but to fail, in one's plans and in one's use of means, of all recognition of the inevitable limitations of the Moral Life, to continue vainly to "kick against the pricks," is also a fatal wrong toward the counsels of practi- cal wisdom. If patience, endurance, and courage are virtues of will which must characterize, unremittingly, the pursuit of the ends of morality, resignation is a habit of mind toward the success of such pursuit which is one of the noblest and most necessary forms of wisdom : — most difficult, too, for the most noble and aspiring souls, whose temptation and failure — not to say, whose vice — is to be not resigned. Resignation is then, a virtue of rational judgment which leads to a certain yielding of will before the inevitable limi- tations of the moral, as of every other form of life. It results in the no less patient, enduring, and passionate pursuit of the moral ideal, though with a constant attitude of mind that 282 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT is rationally adjusted to the fixed conditions of that environ- ment in the midst of which this ideal must be pursued. For, as says Lotze : ^ " Neither ought conduct to be fruitlessly directed toward what is in itself impossible, nor ought a con- test to be waged against what is unavoidable. This is the thought of Resignation, by which all our activity is limited to real and attainable ends." In its highest exercise this kind of wisdom almost impera- tively demands the support of the religious motive. It is, possibly, conceivable that a man may still retain his devotion to moral ideals and practice, and also gain the pure virtue of resignation before the limitations of life when these limita- tions are regarded from an absolutely fatalistic point of view. But the shikata ga nai Q' it cannot be helped ") of the careless Japanese servant, and the erect head and unbending will of the ancient Stoic philosopher, before the destiny of pain and defeat, are scarcely on a level with this form of wisdom. The voluntary bending of our wills to a Will in whose wisdom we have a reasonable confidence is a great support, if it be not the indispensable condition, of the virtue of resignation. The vices which are the opposite of this virtue are some- what manifold. Among them are the discontent, the peev- ishness, and fretfulness which men whose lives are full of disappointed plans for realizing worthy ideals so often share with the men of selfish and unideal lives. There is also that "high-flying extravagance " of aims and plans which often characterizes the fanatic or the megalo-maniac. Saddest of all is the rebellious spirit with which the proudest and most incorruptible souls sometimes meet the inevitable result of their honorable struggle for the supremacy of truth and justice. Hence comes the moving spectacle of a Prometheus Vinctus, — a man who has striven heroically for the good of humanity, now bound and suffering to have his vitals torn 1 Outlines of Practical Philosophy, p. 27. VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 283 by the vultures that have hitherto been restrained by fear in their desire to approach. That purifying function of tragedy which Aristotle recognized is exercised when reflec- tion reveals the moral lesson of human experiences like these. The second cardinal virtue of judgment is Justness ; and in treating of it we have a more complicated and difficult conception before us than has been presented by any of the previously considered forms of virtue. Courage and con- stancy are comparatively simple affairs ; their psychological nature and the historical conditions which have enforced them and which have determined their several principal forms of manifestation are comparatively easy to describe and to estimate. Since temperance has its range of control over so many different and often conflicting impulses and desires, its psychological description, historical evolution, and practical application furnish somewhat more difficult problems for the student of ethics. But none of these vir- tues, as respects its complexity and the obscure problems it presents, equals any one of the several virtues of judgment. Justness is a term which covers a group of forms of virtuous conduct whose psychological origin and character, and whose historical evolution, are very complicated and obscure. Whoever has to take the part of the judge, and to pronounce judgments that must seem fair and fit to the criti- cal moral consciousness, knows that he can seldom be sure of securing more for these judgments than his own just intention. Subjective justice, — what is it, as respects its origin and character from the psychologist's point of view ? Objective justice, the spirit of justness realized, where in the universe shall the man find it who has not either already lost the red blood from his conception of the ethical Ideal ; or else has answered with a faith far transcending sight the pressing inquiry : " Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right? '' This complexity of psychological nature and historical 284 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT development requires recognition. In the effort to cover all that virtuousness which seems to give their characteristic good quality to an entire group of the most fundamental and universally commended virtues, I have therefore adopted the word " Justness. " By this I do not mean mere compli- ance with the customs and laws, whether common or statute, which regulate the relations of men, — in business dealings, in civil and criminal procedures, or in the freer intercourse of friendship or the family life. Nor simply by dealing out rewards and punishments according to one's ideas of the merit or demerit of others' conduct, together with the wise insistence that one's self shall be treated justly by others, does one become perfectly just. On the contrary, submis- sion to a large amount of injustice from others, and no little treatment of others which it is impossible to make consis- tent with the conception of a strict distributive justice, seems inevitable in every good man's life. Even in legal administration, the abrogation or ameliorating of justice, in the narrower meaning of the word, is at least occasionally demanded in the interests of the higher virtue of justness; just as the higher wisdom sometimes makes it necessary to disregard all ordinary prudential maxims. Mere justice, for its own sake, may become a horrible fetish ; its worship may result in conduct that, from the higher standpoints of moral consciousness, seems thoroughly defective in respect of virtuousness, if not positively criminal. There is undoubtedly, however, an entire group of virtues which appear most fitly to fall together under one term, and which cannot be resolved into " benevolence," in any properly restricted meaning of the latter word. Such are, for example, honesty, honor, equity, fairness, and much truthtelling and enlightened kindness. In some sort, too, it may be said of justness that it includes the essence of all virtuousness. The author of the Fifth Book of the Nicoma- chean Ethics recognizes a kind of general justice, including VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 285 the legal and the fair : " Justice, then, as so defined, is complete virtue, although not complete in an absolute sense, but in relation to one's neighbor." This justice, which is the exhibition of the spirit of virtue toward others, " is not a part of virtue but the whole of virtue." Thus understood, it is, of course, worthy of the highest praise. Justice and virtue are one and the same character differently viewed. " On this account it is often spoken of as the chief of vir- tues, and such that ' neither evening nor morning star is so lovely. ' " This high estimate of justness, as well as its complex character, cannot be considered as due chiefly to the evolu- tion of law and custom. The conception and the practice certainly were far enough apart among the Greeks of Aris- totle's time. In general, however, it may be urged that where the discomforts and disasters of unjust judgment are most abundant, the praises of the virtue of just judgment are apt to be most loud. But where it is assumed in the very structure of the government and of society that a large measure of equality belongs by right to every individual, and where the laws are trusted to regulate both distributive and retributive justice, the difficulties of actualizing this theoretical equality, and so the actual failures in fairness and equity, are less easily made obvious. Yet the essentials of this virtue are probably as highly prized among savage peoples as among the most elaborately constituted and highly civilized communities. The civilized practice, however, is about as far below the current ideal of this most important virtue as the practice of ancient times and of savage peoples has ever been below their lower ideal. " Perhaps," says one author, 1 " no description of savage character is fairer than Mariner's of the Tongan Islanders. ' Their notions,' he says, * in respect to honor and justice are tolerably well- defined, steady, and universal ; but in point of practice both 1 Farrer, Primitive Manners and Customs, p. 127 f. 286 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT chiefs and people, taking them generally, are irregular and fickle, being in some respects extremely honorable and just, and in others the contrary, as a variety of causes may oper- ate. ' But the justice of such remarks is lost in their vague- ness, and their impartial generality would render them of world-wide rather than of merely local or insular applica- tion." Who that knows "the chiefs and people" of the United States or of Great Britain could claim for them any- thing better respecting their notions of justice, or anything less bad respecting their practice of this entrancing virtue ? Itis — " This even-handed justice Commends the ingredients of our poisoned chalice To our own lips." And the cry of the ages is : " There is not a just man upon earth, that doeth good, and sinneth not " (Eccles. vii. 20). Where justice is supposed to reign, it is little appreciated. Where ifc is most lacking, it is most praised. An analysis of the virtue of Justness shows that the ap- preciation which it receives is due to the very nature of the Moral Self in its social environment with other selves; while the immense variety of customs, laws, opinions, and judicial decisions which have given concrete realization to this virtue is due to the varied nature of man's moral evolu- tion. Only some such distinction as this will help us solve this paradox of experience. That one ought to be just, and to require justice of others, — this comes out of the moral constitution of man which is at the same time self-regarding and social. What constitutes justice, under certain definite circumstances or in every special case needing determina- tion, — this is a question, to answer which requires an im- measurable fund of historical information and illimitable tact in forming particular judgments. The spirit of fair- ness, ready at all times to infuse the judgment, — one can understand, appraise, and cultivate this. The actually fair VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 287 apportionment of the goods and evils of life, so far as these depend upon one's just judgment, — no one can hope to ac- complish much of that. The psychology of the virtue, though complex and somewhat obscure, arises out of the depths of personal existence; it springs from the permanent nature of moral and social beings. The account of the various forms which the virtue has assumed, although interesting and helpful to the understanding of its intrinsic nature, is due to environment and historical conditions. By Justness, as a cardinal virtue, I understand the volun- tary judgment which duly apportions to men their share of the goods and the evils of life, so far as these goods and evils are dependent upon human conduct. Injustice, popularly so-called, is indeed customarily regarded as some deed which either violates the rights of others by taking from them what they already possess, or else prevents them from receiving what they have a right to possess. But even in such matters it is recognized that the person who cannot in any way effect the result by his action is as capable as another of being, in his judgment, either just or unjust. Men demand just judgment of their fellows, even where the bare satisfaction of being justly judged is the only appreci- able result. Indeed, in many cases, if it is justice^ for its own sake, which they demand, and not the " pound of flesh " for its sake, men prefer just judgment even when it is, from the nature of the case, not possible to carry the subjective virtue into objective realization. And as for the case of the man who judges virtuously but will not act according to his own judgment, his failure and vice are everywhere severely condemned. The good things and the evil things of man's life are, to a certain increasingly large extent, disposable according to the decisions of men themselves. It is within the sphere of such things that justice moves. Where men, whether in the lower and coarser or in the higher and more refined forms 288 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT of religious faith, regard this distribution of good and evil as dependent upon the Divine Will, they bring even the judgment which guides that Will before the bar of human judgment. 1 They argue with themselves and with one an- other as to the justice of the gods, or of the One Supreme God. But this working of the religious consciousness only confirms the conception of this virtue which I am advocating. In the distribution of the evils of floods, cyclones, and strokes of lightning, they do not demand justice of their fellow-men unless, as in the case of the disasters at Johnstown and Galveston, the results can somehow be traced back to re- sponsible human action. But earth and air and water, with tlieir common stock of bane and blessing, are disposable by the will of man, according to fair or unfair judgment ; and so are the fruits and deposits of the earth, the breezes of heaven, and the contents of river, lake, and ocean. And He who made men in his own image commanded : " Let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth." It is not material goods alone whose apportionment de- pends upon the conduct of man. Honor in the eyes of one's fellows, reputation, political place and influence, social position, intellectual attainment, opportunities for moral and spiritual welfare, are also among the things for the distribution of which the virtuous judgment which we call justness is imperatively demanded. This dependable char- acter of those goods which all men desire, and of those evils which all men wish to avoid, upon man's conduct is the fundamental and universal fact which makes human jus- tice and injustice possible. Within the consciousness of man, therefore, there arises 1 For a discussion of some of the curious implications regarding the nature of Reality which this involves, see Philosophy of Knowledge, chap. XVII and A Theory of Reality, chap. XIV and XVIL VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 289 what may be called an instinctive sense of justice; and with the development of moral self-consciousness there comes a sort of sacred apperception of the worth of personality. In its lower and beginning forms, this so-called " sense of justice " is chiefly protective and retributive. It has its foil in the animal consciousness; but injustice does not cut deep with the lower animals as it does with man, and it is doubtful whether anything resembling its dullest human appreciation is to be found with them. Wolves that hunt in packs do indeed contend with one another for a share in the captures of the hunt ; and ants have a semblance of organization in which each member has its duly allotted place, and suffers the just penalty of being found derelict in duty at that particular place. In fact, however, the con- sciousness with which all this is done probably does not even remotely resemble that of the Homeric heroes when they dispute over the spoils of war, or the places of honor and of leadership. There are seemingly authentic stories of animals — notably of elephants — cherishing the spirit of revenge and punishing those who had excited their anger, even after considerable intervals of time. But it is doubtful whether the sense of being wronged, and of righting the wrong in accordance with the satisfactions of moral con- sciousness, such as the lowest savages manifest, is back of any of these analogous actions on the part of the lower animals. Adult human beings generally resent attempts to deprive them of good, or to inflict evil upon them, not merely in the spirit of instinctive anger, but with the approving con- sciousness of protecting their rights. We believe also that Lotze ^ is true to the psychological facts, when, in discussing "the simple moral ideals," he declares: "Retribution is agreeable to conscience; that is to say, the returning of a corresponding measure of reward or of punishment to a will, 1 Outlines of Practical Philosophy, p. 29. 19 290 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT which has occasioned a definite measure of weal or woe.'* Every man, by virtue of his normal moral consciousness, is capable, not only of feeling spontaneous anger or prolonged resentment, but also of feeling " wronged " and of cherishing the desire to see the wrong somehow righted. Therefore, the virtue of temperance in the form of the self-control of anger only limits but does not extinguish the sense of jus- tice. On the contrary, it requires justness, — the submis- sion of the feeling of anger to rational considerations in order that all the interests of the Virtuous Life may be the better conserved and promoted. Here also justness itself, in the higher form of this virtue, intervenes to correct the tendency to an unjust excess of merely protective and retribu- tive justice. For the man who invokes even the most primi- tive sense of justice is always a member of some sort of a community ; and he is necessarily restrained by the enforced obligation to remember that the man who has wronged him is still also a man unless, indeed, he be an outlaw, or a beast of a man. Eetribution itself, therefore, must also take on the garb of justness, must be measured according to custom or to law, whether it be between members of the same tribe, or between different tribes. It would take the discussion too far afield to examine thoroughly the psychological origin and historical evolution of the doctrine of human rights. It is enough for the present purpose to know that the consciousness out of which this doctrine develops is strictly universal; it belongs to man everywhere and under all circumstances, to man as man. Every normal adult human being claims for himself some rights, and also acknowledges the obligation to respect some of the claims made by others for the satisfaction of their rights. Every man believes that certain of the good things of life are his dues, and is irrevocably committed to the conviction that he ought to be exempted from certain evils at the hands of his fellow-men. What precisely are VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 291 these goods and evils, and what the measure of them, which justice demands for every man, is a question whose answer admits of no general agreement. The Javanese servant will not resent fines and blows from his master, if they are " nominated in the bond " which the customary relation executes; but he will kill you with good conscience, and as a duty, if you call him certain opprobrious names. The " grafters " and " strong-armed " thieves of our modern American cities are ready enough to insist upon what they call the " fair thing" in their iniquitous partnership with the police. Nor do they have any less respect for the justice of the authorities that arrest, imprison, and hang them, if only such is their fate in the result of a " fair " fight be- tween themselves and the public good. In some sort, then, every developed moral consciousness places all individual moral selves on a basis of equality. The goods and the evils of human life are manifold; the former are somewhat uncertain, yet on the whole abundant enough for all to have some share ; the evils are inevitable and of such nature that every one must have some share. The distribution of both goods and evils depends largely, either directly or indirectly, upon the will of man. Every Self, because of his selfhood, is morally entitled to his own proper share ; to this he has rights, and he is in duty bound to leave to every other the share that is his own. If in human society there is a failure here, and the failure is due to human conduct, wrong has been done. Justice demands, originally, the avoidance of all such wrong; it requires the positive virtue which assists in the equable allotment of both good and evil. But when the wrong of injustice has been committed, justice demands that punishment should correct the wrong. That curious mixture of highflown talk about essential rights, and of intense feeling with respect to exacting and rendering justice to these rights, with what we should regard as the most flagrant injustice in the work- 292 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT ing of the existing customs and laws, and with the most confused and inadequate notions of personal responsibility, of which human society is capable, is perhaps nowhere else so well illustrated as in China. ^ The case is not, then, as though man, like the other animals, simply wanted the satisfaction of his desires ; for his social life rests upon the ethical demand, as a right, of a due pro- portion of the common good. Why this universal demand ? and, Why this concession of the Tightness of a similar demand by others ? Some crude estimate, at least, of that personal worth in which each individual has a share must be at the bottom of the demand. It is this which in part (bat only in part) accounts for the satisfaction which all man- kind feel in retributive justice. Pain suffered by the offender and inflicted by the offended may satisfy the passion for vengeance. Punishment regulated by custom or legal enact- ment, and proportioned duly, makes for the peace and order of the community. But outraged sense of justice puts in its voice at this point with a claim for satisfaction that is of a deeper sort. Only in accordance with this view, it seems to me, can we account for such ethical phenomena as the fre- quent self-punishment of criminals (sometimes even with death); or where, as in " Old Japan," the corporate con- science was sensitive and the conceptions of personality vague, and the man of honor voluntarily assumed the penalty needed to satisfy the demands of justice as against the com- munity at large. Although compliance with custom and observance of legal- ity cannot be identified with the virtue of Justness, and although regard for the current forms of behavior and for obedience to the laws cannot explain the attitude of men toward their criminal fellows, yet this virtue can never get concrete expression in action irrespective of custom and legality. Ignorance, or scorn of custom or of the existing 1 See Chinese Characteristics, by Arthur H. Smith. VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 293 legal enactments, makes distributive justice difficult; it makes protective or punitive justice well-nigh impossible. For the measure of the rights to which most men think themselves entitled is that afforded by either one, or by both, of these two standards. All the others have this good fortune, why cannot I ? None of my fellows are treated so ill, why should I be ? These are questions which children and childish men and women are forever asking of themselves and of one another. If they cannot get a sat- isfactory answer from human sources, they will have it from heaven. Thus struggles for precedence at courts and at all manner of functions, and for the enjoyment of all the trivi- alities of life, are gloried over and made seemingly to have a certain ethical respectability, by an appeal to this univer- sal and eternal regard for what is fair and just. Each rank, each circle, each social class, makes in this way its attempt at the fixing of some accepted standard. But as, in the evolution of moral selfhood the tenet of the equality of all selves, in some respects at least, becomes more widely extended, and the corresponding sense of jus- tice and the demand for the recognition of rights expand, the customs and the laws which regulate the concrete ex- pressions of the virtue of justness undergo constant changes. What was once very just has now become the most rank and unbearable injustice. What is generous rather than simply just in one place, and under one set of circumstances, seems intolerable when change of place and of circumstances must be taken into the account. Practical justice is, therefore, doomed ever to shift and alter both its grounds and its char- acter. Custom and law cannot confine it, although custom and law are so largely the expressions which it has given to its own inner spirit and intent. On the other hand, as there is a higher wisdom, so there is a higher justness. This higher justness judges the cus- toms and the laws themselves and condemns or approbates 294 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT them in accordance with its own ideals. In order to be just, and so true to its own higher nature, this supremely virtuous judgment must keep free from the temptations of Fanaticism; it must always bear in mind the inevitable limitations under which all human ideals of virtuous living are progressively realized. At the same time, and espe- cially in the case of those more highly complex civiliza- tions where the forms of justice have become registered in prevalent customs and accepted laws, one is made painfully aware that often these same customs and laws are most blameworthy and pernicious from the point of view of the higher justness. Alas! that this judgment should be so emphatically true of the most advanced nations at the pres- ent time. Nothing else can possibly be so disturbing to the public morals, or so threatening to the public welfare, as the enactment of laws which the multitude of the people governed by those laws feel to be unjust and unfair. This, however, is the inevitable result of class legislation — especially under a republican form of government. Here the very laws and the whole structure of society become chargeable with the dreadful crime of a deliberate, wilful, and protracted disregard of fairness. It is not individual acts of injustice, however frequent and violent, that most threaten the virtuous quality or even the stability of the national life of any people ; it is, the rather, the organized and cus- tomary and legalized unfairness which is most dangerous. And what awful retribution has more than once in human history followed a long-continued disregard of this essential characteristic of a virtuous National Life ! What, then, can the individual man do in order to merit the title of the " perfectly just " ? He can (1) cherish always the spirit of fairness; (2) hold ever before him an estimate of the worth of every individual man (no matter to what race or social rank the individual may belong, and irrespective of the relative grade or the total mixture of VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 295 human characteristics which constitute the individual) ; (3) diligently inform himself as to the relative values of the ends of life and the means of obtaining them; (4) study those customs and laws which are so influential over the interests of men in the use of means for the pursuit of every form of good ; and, then, finally, (5) fuse all these elements of justness into judgment whenever any concrete question arises concerning the share of the common stock of good and evil which shall be borne by any individual self — himself, of course, included. He who with courage and constancy, and with the spirit of tempered kindness, always acts under the control of such judgment gives to the world the best pos- sible example of perfect Justness. But a perfect objective justice — a wholly fair distribution of earth's goods and evils in accordance with the merit of each individual man — is an ideal toward the realization of which one man, with his highest wisdom and most strenuous endeavor, can do little enough. As Plato long ago taught, justice is the reality of which all the division of life's labors and acquisitions is the sem- blance ; — " dealing, however, not with the outward man but with the inward, which is the true self and concernment of a man. " ^ ** Say, what is honour ? *T is the finest sense Of Justice which the human mind can frame, Intent each lurking frailty to disclaim, And guard the way of life from all offence Suffered or done." Closely allied with the virtue of justness is that other car- dinal virtue of intellect which I have ventured to designate by the somewhat unusual title — Trueness. Indeed, so close is the alliance between the two that the latter might almost be called a species of the former. There is, however, an important difference between them; and that quality of ideal 1 The Republic, 443. 296 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT manhood which appears as sincerity in conduct and genuine- ness of character is not altogether the same as that which gives birth to the virtues of fairness, honesty, equity in dealing with others, etc. By Trueness as a cardinal virtue of judgment I do not understand mere truth-telling, or speaking what is believed to be either true in facts or to be in theory accordant with a large number of facts. Much less can one properly define this virtue so as to approve unthinking bluntness of speech, or that openness of conduct which reveals the thought and feel- ing without regard to effects upon the thoughts and feelings of others. Undoubtedly, justice and kindness both require much concealment, and sometimes even what is inevitably misinterpreted so as to construe a voluntary deceit; much of this same thing is also apparently necessary to a proper self-respect and to the maintenance of any ground of stand- ing for the exercise of the social virtues generally. Mere truth-telling, for its own sake and without regard to conse- quences or to the inquiry, whether the truth ought to be told at all and who is the proper person to tell it, may become criminal ; and such truth-telling often shows a defect in re- spect of 'the virtues of wisdom, justice, kindness, or even courage and temperance and constancy. On the other hand, it cannot be claimed either in view of the patent facts of universal opinion or of the course of moral evolution that there is no such cardinal virtue as a regard for truth — in some sort, " for its own sake." On the contrary, " being true " in conduct and in character may be esteemed the one indispensable condition of all virtuous- ness, the core of all right and dutiful character. Limited as is Aristotle's conception ^ of the virtue of trueness, he is unstinted in his praise for " the plain dealer " who is truth- ful both in life and speech. "Falsehood," says Aristotle, who makes " irony " in dealing with one's inferiors the 1 Nic. Eth., IV, vii. VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 297 virtue of a gentleman, — " falsehood is in itself base and censurable; truth is noble and laudable." And whatever one may think of Paulsen's teleological theory of virtuous- ness, neither the popular nor the critical estimate of the nature of all virtuous living can encourage us to follow him in exempting examples of infidelity to truth in practice, like Schopenhauer, Rousseau, and Petrarch, from the charge of falsehood in the most intensely moral meaning of the word, on the authority of a motto like this : — " The man who rings the bell cannot march in the procession." The student of ethics must not hastily fall in with the too prevalent opinion that the virtue of trueness is not even recognized in the lower stages of moral evolution, or among peoples where lying and all forms of deceit are habitual and persistent. It is true, indeed, that ignorance, falsehood, and craft interpenetrate the whole life of almost all savage, as well as of many civilized peoples. In the case of the savages, unceasing craft and deceit are so indispensable even to continued existence that the conduct in which they find ex- pression is esteemed an essential kind of virtue. Yet even in such cases the virtue which is really recognized and esteemed is, after the notion of these same people, a sort of wisdom or prudence. Only the man who is in the position of independ- ence and power can he — so it is assumed — habitually frank and truthful. It would not be easy to show, however, any essential difference in respect for this virtue between the most immoral peoples and those who most pride themselves on their superior morality. All men recognize how com- paratively difficult it is for one to practise truthfulness at the cost of, rather than in the maintenance of, the desirable and good things of life. Even the Ojis have a saying: " When a poor man makes a proverb it does not spread ; " and in Accra it is cleverly declared: " A poor man's pipe does not sound. " But the persuasion is tolerably widespread and embodied 298 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT in maxims among mankind, that it is poor policy to lie. " The liar is short-lived," says the Arabian proverb. " Lies, though many, will be caught by Truth, as soon as she rises up," is the Wolof way of expressing the general experience. " Even in Afghanistan, where it is said that no disgrace attaches to lying per se, and where lying is called an honest man's wings, while truth can only be spoken by a strong man or a fool, there is also a proverb with the moral, that the career of falsehood is short." As long ago as Herodotus it was known how the Persian moral philosophy held, what the Persian gentleman practised, — namely, " that the man who speaks truth is always at his ease; that men never suffer from speaking the truth; that it behoves them to speak their minds unreservedly, for there is no hill in front of the tongue. " Probably, nowhere else in the world is falsehood in all its shades of gray, from that which is a little off the pure white of truth to the blackest of lying, more prevalent than amongst the Hindus of India. Nowhere else is deceit of every kind more ingenious or more tolerated. Yet when the Hindu can free his judgment from the temptations of poverty, fear, greed, and superstition, he shows the same appreciation of the value of trueness which belongs to others ; and with the high-minded Hindu gentle- man, truth, as he understands it, is as essential a part of the Virtuous Life as it is with the high-minded English gentle- man. In the Hindu moral philosophy truthfulness is one of the sattwik gunas, or principles that introduce harmony " by controlling self or by sacrificing self to higher forces ; " and as such, it is daivik (or divine). " Of the good man in the Rig Veda," says Professor Hopkins,^ " are demanded piety toward gods and manes and liberality to priests ; truthfulness and courage." That this virtue of judgment is connected in the Hindu system of thinking with a true apprehension of the great religious and philosophical verities is not to be ^ Beligions of India, p. 148. VIKTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 299 urged as a mark of its depreciation ; but rather of the oppo- site, — while, as I have already said, the prevalence and the tolerance of the breaches of this virtue are in India, as else- where, due to ignorance, superstition, cowardice, and greed. As says the base lago : — " O monstrous world ! Take note, take note, O World, To be direct and honest, is not safe." Trueness involves, essentially considered, an appreciation of the value of Reality and of the correspondence which may be established between it and the Self by way of its own act of true judgment. This appreciation it is which inspires the noblest minds with the love of the truth for the truth's own dear sake. Such a passionate affection, however, when subjected to psychological analysis and then, as far as its residuum is concerned, to further reflective thinking, loses its abstract character, but gains much thereby in actual ethical significance and importance. The love of Truth for its own sake turns out to be an affective appreciation of the value of true judgment for the Selfs own sake, and for the sake of other selves ; and, finally, for the sake of fidelity to that Supreme Selfhood who is the source and the guardian of all truth — " The Truth," as well as the Life, of man.^ By this virtue, accordingly, I understand that voluntary judgment which corresponds to the facts and principles of Reality as these are made known to the Moral Self. In perception and self-consciousness we stand face to face with certain actual facts. By reflection and reasoning we proceed from the apprehension of those facts to the knowledge of principles, or to the belief, varying all the way from timid conjecture to unshaken conviction, in facts and principles that cannot be immediately apprehended or (as often hap- pens) empirically verified. It is in the judgment that this 1 Compare the chapters on ** Truth and Error " and on '* The Ethical and ^sthetical * Momenta ' of Knowledge," in the author's Philosophy of Knowledge (XV and XVU). 300 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT total activity so culminates as to come under the rubric of the true and the false. It is the actual judgment which, as a species of conduct, merits the title of being either good or bad, not only from the logical, but also from the ethical point of view. This is only to say in other words that the Self, when voluntarily pronouncing judgment, is virtuous and meritorious or vicious and blameworthy, according to the relation which it thus assumes toward the facts and principles that appear to have reality. Undoubtedly somewhat the same obscurities and perplex- ities encompass this inquiry which were found surrounding the discussion of the virtues of wisdom and justness. The sceptical questions : What is Truth ? and, How can any one assume that his representation of it does correspond, and that of his fellow-man does not correspond, to Reality ? need not embarrass us at this point. Let it be granted that " real " truth in this connection means what seems true to each mind; that it is the individual's own seizure of the fact or of the principle. Without attention, memory, insight, thought, and the fair spirit, there is no satisfactory judg- ment of either fact or principle possible. So that getting the judgment into a form which shall appear to ourselves clearly and fully to correspond with reality is a complex piece of conduct which always has either a certain good or bad moral quality. But truths, like other forms of good, have different degrees of worth and are therefore capable of being arranged in a scale of values. Their place in such a scale, so far as either they or it can be the proper consideration of philosophy, must be determined by two things : (1) by the relation in which the truths, as respects the possibility of their attainment, stand to human conduct ; and (2) by the relation in which the truths, when partially or perfectly attained, stand to human welfare. It will not do dogmatically to pronounce upon the irre- VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 301 movable limits of human cognition. The folly of attempting this after the fashion of the Kantian or other agnosticism is made clear by a consistent theory of knowledge; and the his- tory of the particular sciences is fall of instructive instances of discoveries which have brought to nought the agnostic declarations of the men of science themselves. Yet the inquiry, whether the " game is worth the candle,'^ when judiciously put, always has an ethical import. And to spend energy and time that might be given to the solution of solvable problems in the search for unattainable mysteries, or in the hair-splitting discussion of abstract propositions, or even in almost hopeless attempt to unearth matters of fact buried too deep for human industry, may savor of an immoral lack of wisdom. For the spirit of trueness is, after all, opposed to the exploiting of mere fact or barren theory, for the "truth's own sake" so-called. But ethics must be very liberal upon this point. And a due humility before the great realities themselves strengthens rather than diminishes the faith that the door into the innermost chamber of Reality is never wholly shut to man ; and that each fact has some worthy place and important significance in the structure, as it were, of that Reality. Here it will appear to the thoughtful mind that fidelity to the virtue of True- ness approaches, and in a sisterly way embraces, the virtue of Resignation. It is a more obvious remark in the interests of a fuller exposition of this form of virtuous judgment, that truths themselves stand in different relations to human welfare. Our conception of " The Truth " may, perhaps, properly be such as to sanctify in some measure every seemingly insig- nificant fact. Thus scientific exactness, in all its pettiness of details, may come to have a decidedly ethical quality and may even be worshipped with something of the fervor of religious devotion. And accepting the correct psychological view and metaphysical estimate of the virtue of trueness, 302 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT one can readily see how such exactness meets a moral de- mand ; since all truth is for some self's sake. Let then the " man of science " pride himself on having counted exactly the petals of some new species of flower or the scales of some hitherto unknown species of fish, and on having correctly derived the one from its true plant progenitor or pieced suc- cessfully together the skeleton of the other, — and all the more, if both be extinct and of no practical interest to either pharmacist or fisherman. For his own patience, industry, intellectual control, are features of good selfhood ; and he is so far virtuous in this piece of conduct, although the truth he has obtained prove of small value to other selves. While, of course, God knew it all beforehand. What, how- ever, shall be said of the man who spends his energies and risks his life in finding the way to the North Pole, or the best plan of spanning with a bridge some river, but refuses even earnestly to inquire whether there be any God, or no, or what is the better way to adjust one's own conduct to the exigencies of the higher life and to the attainment of its supreme values ? It is, of course, not possible for a philosophy of conduct accurately to scale the values belonging to every form of truth; it is sufficient here to point out that the virtue of trueness, since it is a species of conduct, must always recog- nize its object as a thing of worth. And this good value, which the object has, is a matter of degrees. Like every species of good, therefore, this good which belongs to truth has reference to human welfare — to the welfare of persons in their manifold social relations. So that the highest truth- fulness, like the highest wisdom and the highest justice, will be exhibited in the forms of judgment that concern matters of the highest worth. Although, perhaps, nothing can be further from the spirit of an age that values truth chiefly from the commercial standpoint, and even estimates the truths of science in dependence solely upon the worth of the VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 303 profit that is in them, it nevertheless remains an invincible conclusion from the inmost nature of man : He has most of the virtue of Trueness who most painstakingly and sincerely adjusts his judgments to the realities that have most of value in relation to the supreme ends of the Virtuous Life, The reverse of this is also true: to exalt, either theoretically or practically, either in education or in life, so-called scientific truth or those forms of knowledge which minister to success in trade or in warfare, above the truths of morals and religion, is im- moral; it is distinctly disloyal to the inmost spirit of the virtue of trueness itself. The vices which oppose this virtue are manifold ; but they do not consist chiefly of the different kinds and degrees of lying — a form of evil conduct that is oftenest the expression of the vices of cowardice, greed, love of notoriety, etc. They are chiefly of the following three varieties: (1) Thoughtlessness, whether taking the form of carelessness, indifference, or sloth in forming judgments; (2) Dog- matism ; (3) Partisanship. Man is made to be thoughtful ; and the ideal selfhood is not to be attained, or successfully pursued, or even most distantly approached, without pains- taking thought. It is chiefly thought that makes judgment true ; and he who, for any reason, will not think, is essen- tially untrue to his manhood. Carelessness, however, in- evitably results in untrue judgment; but taking care is a voluntary matter, an activity of the willing Self that is essential to the formation of all sound judgment. Indif- ference, too, is destructive of sound judgment; for, while carelessness is likely to err through haste and lack of pro- longed and concentrated attention, it may sometimes by good luck hit the mark more or less near its centre. But the vice of untrueness which is due to a cool and deliberate disregard of the value of truth shows a more deeply seated and repulsive character. Especially is this so, when the indifference has for its object the higher ethical, social, and 304 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT religious truths. Let it be said again, then, that the man who claims that such truths have no interest in his sight, and who treats them with a practical neglect — not to say contempt — is, as respects the virtue of trueness, one of the most immoral of men. He is untrue to the highest devotions — the principles of conduct, the welfare of the race, the attitude of the human soul toward the Supreme Good — of which his manhood is capable. Dogmatism, too, is untrueness, a species of immorality. But by dogmatism I do not, of course, mean either positive knowledge which has subjected itself to the scientific tests of valid cognition, or reasoned opinion which is held firmly, as opinion, in view of the rational grounds on which it reposes, or warm conviction concerning moral issues where wisdom and justice are difficult to secure, or even the faith which reposes, somewhat ignorantly, in the judgment or the authority of others. All these forms of judgment may evince, under differing circumstances, the various shades of the virtue of trueness. Dogmatism is the arrogant and unreasoning attitude of mind, in judgment, toward the facts and principles of Reality. No doubt, the dogmatist habitually has his reasons to offer; and they may appear convincing to him and to his coterie, if to no others. And to be alone with The True One in one's judgment may he more virtuous than to agree with the world's multitude against Him. But he who is in this position of seem- ing isolation from his fellow men, or in any position re- sembling it, escapes the vice of dogmatism so long as he keeps free from arrogance, however firm in his opinions, and remains ever willing and striving to know the truth, however this new truth may disturb or contradict his past opinions. In politics, and in all the judgments which prevail among the different classes. Partisanship is the most mischievous form of the vice of untrueness. Lies here and there are VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 305 mischievous enough; no one but an all-seeing Providence can foretell how long and how far their mischief will spread over the sphere of the liar's selfhood and over the sphere of society. Habitual tolerated trickery, when it permeates the multitude, is worse in its effects. But, sometimes in amus- ing as well as appalling ways, the evils of this form of the vice come almost constantly to correct themselves. In parts of the Orient everybody knows that everybody else is lying ; but everybody has come pretty correctly to conjecture what everybody else truly means by the lie that he is telling. To escape from the practical evils of the vice without taking part in it requires time and patience; it is, indeed, quite impossible for the inexpert foreign traveller. But in its practical mischief the vice of partisanship is worst of all. It is bitter in spirit and coupled with all injustice of judg- ment. It inevitably expresses itself in methods of action which join all the vices of cowardice, unwisdom, and un- kindness, in one amalgamation of baseness. Inasmuch as it unites men in masses, so that each individual rather accentuates than corrects the untrue judgments of every other, it is of all forms of falsehood the most dangerous to the civic welfare and to the national life. On the other hand, it is the man who remains true to his ideal of man- hood, and, while benevolently inclined to join with others in every good cause, steadfastly refuses to join with any, or with all, in efforts to debase this ideal, — it is such a man, who is both most truly virtuous in his own Self and most truly valuable in his social relations. The forms of expression which the true judgment re- ceives, whether in speech, or in gesture, or in more elaborate action, are manifold; they give rise to many complicated and difficult ethical problems. The virtue which we have been considering is a virtue of judgment; it is the virtue of trueness, and its opposite is found in the different forms of untrue judgment. But what is customarily understood 20 306 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT by deceit, falsehood, or lying, has to do with the voluntary failure to make the expression correspond with the judgment itself. These failures are, of course, a species of conduct. But as has already been pointed out, the vices which the failures really evince are often, perhaps ordinarily, of another kind; they are cowardice, greed, some unlawful desire, love of applause, etc. It is most important, then, briefly to notice how dependent the form and number of such vicious actions is upon the civic and social environ- ment. Attention has already been called (p. 296 f.) to the fact that, in Aristotle's scheme, truthfulness appears as the virtue especially of the gentleman, the man of honor who does not need to degrade himself by telling a falsehood. Truthfulness goes with wittiness and modesty. It is the consciousness of superiority which makes the man out- spoken. ^ In fact there is much truth in this view. Many powerful influences, both direct and indirect, may be traced between the civil and political constitution of any com- munity and the character and amount of falsehood prevalent in the community. Between the tyrant, or the irresponsible government and its subjects, falsehood is inevitable; thus Oriental intrigue and lying are largely due to wrong civic relations. In a constitutional but aristocratic government, the gentry are in general truthful ; they have little tempta- tion to be false, and truthfulness is a primary virtue and point of honor with them. In a mercantile community, a certain amount of truthfulness is necessary; but as the spirit of greed grows, and rivalry becomes more intense, the various forms of deceit grow more elaborate and seductive ; until the experience of the race in its efforts to get the start of the great, abiding, and worthy realities repeats itself, and the Arabian and Wolof proverbs come true again: "The liar is short-lived ; " and " Lies, though many, will be caught by Truth, as soon as she rises up." So far, however, as the 1 Nic. Eth., IV, iii, 29. VIRTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 807 essential spirit of Trueness, as well as of Justness, is con- cerned, the modern Commercialism, when unmodified by the, at least, indirect influences of Christian benevolence, is every whit as cruel, false, and unscrupulous as was the ancient or mediasval greed of Empire. What kinds and degrees of deceit, if any, are consistent with the Virtuous Life ? and, Is lying ever justifiable ? — these are questions which it belongs to casuistry to raise and to discuss. But the essential nature of that virtue of the judgment which is called trueness enables one to make the following observations looking toward the success of any attempt to answer them. 1. Trueness, in the higher meaning of the word, is one of the most unqualified of all the virtues. Indeed, if one considers that all right conduct, and all estimate of the Tightness of conduct depends upon true judgment, one may affirm that this virtue is of all most absolute. All the virtues are essentially various forms of the voluntary con- formity of the Self to its Ideal; they are all, therefore, different ways of being true to some type or principle, — so far as such trueness depends upon ourselves. 2. But trueness, as a virtue of the judgment, requires courage, temperance, constancy, wisdom, justness, kind- ness, in its own expression, — whether the expression be in the form of speech, or in some other form of action; and trueness does not require intemperate, unwise, or unjust expression of its own judgment. So that to secure its own proper influence, and even to make its own essential excel- lence apparent, this virtue must somehow be combined with, and qualified by, certain other virtues. Concealment of the judgment may, then, either be a virtue, or it may be a con- temptible form of vice ; and only good judgment, which is a form of conduct, and oftentimes equivalent to natural or acquired tact, can decide between the reasons for concealing, and the reasons for revealing, any true judgment. 308 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT 3. The true interpretation of any expression of judgment, the understanding of the speech or other action of another, is always a somewhat doubtful, and often an extremely diffi- cult matter. No amount of trueness in one man's judgment, or fidelity and care in the expression of the judgment, can furnish security against other men's blundering, mistaken, or perverted interpretation. There is often wisdom, too, in "answering a fool according to his folly," if you answer him at all. To a certain extent, moreover, which can never be determined antecedently, and can never be determined at all with much approach to accuracy, all good and truthful men must allow themselves to be falsely interpreted, whether they speak or remain silent, whether they act upon their judgment or think fit to suspend action while remaining in the same true judgment. 4. There are certain matters, and many times, when one's conduct cannot be altered on moral grounds in view of the fact that it is certain to be misunderstood. One cannot be decent or virtuous, in a social environment constructed as that of man actually is, without concealing many things ; and concealing in not a few instances is tantamount to deceiving. 5. Where those who carry the utilitarian or teleological conception of the virtue of truthfulness to its extreme are ready to justify deceit, or even lying, this justification, so long as it is in any sense of the word a moral affair, consists in qualifying this particular virtue by some other virtue. In wisdom or kindness or justice toward others, they hold, one may deceive or tell lies ; perhaps sometimes one even ought to tell a lie, or two, in the interests of these other virtues. But few moralists in any age have been found ready to claim that those popular sayings which praise the benefits of un- truthfulness to the seeker for the goods of life have any standing at the bar of a refined moral consciousness. We have here, then, in another form, a question of casuistry, a problem arising from a seeming conflict of duties. VIKTUES OF THE JUDGMENT 309 6. Once more, there undoubtedly is always a certain feel- ing of moral degradation attaching itself to the personality of one who, for any reason, however praiseworthy the reason in itself may be, has told a lie. The more exalted the virtue of truthfulness has been in the estimate of such a person, the more violent the wrench, the more pitiful the feeling of self-depression, which follow yielding to the most approved motives for lying. It is the nun who has never lied, who, in Victor Hugo's Les Mis^rables, becomes the heroine for her self-sacrificing benevolence in telling just this one lie in the interests of another person. The angels drop a tear on the record to wash it away. Moralists debate and perhaps end by justifying it ; at any rate all pity the doer and perhaps condone the deed. But none glory in it as we glory in the conduct of the man who dies himself rather than tell a base and selfish lie. The man, then, who uses all his powers of judgment in the interests of good conduct, is the man of the Virtuous Life, so far as qualities of judgment can go. In his estimate of the ends of life, and of the means for their attainment, he is wise. In his apportionment of the goods and evils of life to the different individual selves with whom he has rela- tions, he is just. In his own mental attitude of judgment toward all the facts and principles of reality, he is true. Being wise, and just, and true, in all matters of judgment, he is the good man whom the universal moral consciousness of his fellows must approbate and esteem " worthy of being treated accordingly. " CHAPTER XIII VIRTUES OF FEELING: KINDNESS, SYMPATHY, ETC. The virtues of the class which await consideration differ in some important respects from those of the two classes which have already been discussed. The differences are, for the most part, due to two causes ; first, to the character of the psychological source or mainspring of these virtues ; and second, to the relation which the virtues themselves, consid- ered as forms of conduct, sustain to the individual's social en- vironment. Certain modes of behavior originate mainly in the affectional and sentimental nature of man (" the heart," das GemutK) ; and these modes of behavior, coming under the guidance of judgment and the control of the will, institute and sustain a great variety of powerful and valuable relations, of a general character called friendly^ among men. Such virtues are, therefore, pre-eminently social in the narrower mean- ing of the word. I say in the narrower meaning of the word social ; for we have already seen that, in the broader and truer meaning of the same word, there neither are, nor can be, any virtues or vices which are not social. It should be observed, first, that the affectional and senti- mental origin of this class of virtues makes difficult, if not quite impossible, any clear definition of their characteristic marks. It is now, for example, almost universally acknowl- edged in the ethically more highly developed communities, that kindness is due to men generally, and that it is to be morally approbated and deemed worthy of reward for its meritoriousness. But what is it to be kind ? The feeling to which one must appeal in order to get any basic fact in VIRTUES OF FEELING 811 human experience for an answer to such a question as this, does not admit of definition. It is what it is, as feeling ; and to know what this particular feeling really is, it is necessary that it should actually be felt. But the theory of morals as applied to the description of every cardinal virtue refuses to regard mere feeling as coming up to the full standard of those characteristics that are required of every claimant to the title. This theory very promptly and properly introduces a distinc- tion between merely having kindly feeling and being truly kind, — or exercising the full-orbed grace of virtuous kindness. For such kindness, judgment is necessary ; and, as well, the volition which, as it were, appropriates and makes the Selfs very own, the spontaneous kindly feeling. " Good nature," for example, is a potent and praiseworthy source of virtuous con- duct ; but he who good-naturedly tosses a coin to a beggar is not, as a matter of course, virtuous, — especially, if he owes that coin to his family or to some other cause. It is necessary that the natural feeling of kindness should be vol- untary and subjected to rational judgment in order to convert it into the cardinal yet qualified virtue whicli it may become. That there are natural feelings of kindness, sympathy, be- nevolence, and self-sacrificing love, scarcely need be ques- tioned anew at the present time. Aristotle was, like all the ancient Greek and Latin world, far enough from recognizing the highest form of the virtues of this class, such as the en- thusiasm of humanity, the principled love of all mankind. But he was too keen and observing a psychologist not to notice how " Love seems to be implanted by nature in the parent towards the offspring, and in the offspring towards the parent, not only among men but also among birds and most animals ; and in those of the same race toward one another, among men especially — for which reason we commend those who love their fellow-men. And when one travels one may see how man is always akin to and dear to man." ^ That 1 Nic. Eth., Vni, i, 3. 812 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT outcome of sensationalism and egoism in psychology which prevailed at one time among certain English and French writers on ethics, and which thought to show that all these obviously kindly, sympathetic and friendly forms of human feeling are only sly and indirect forms of selfishness, and that the different species of conduct to which the feelings give rise are only concealed ways of seeking one's own good, — jejune and unproductive as it always was — is now so deservedly ex- tinct as to require only a passing reference. It is interesting to remark, however, how the successors of this psychological system are at present among those most interested to make out that certain spontaneous feelings belonging to our com- mon human nature are distinctively (and even exclusively) altruistic. Indeed, " sympathy " is the term which some of these writers employ as fit to summarize all those impulses of humanity in which the social virtues have their origin and their support. Kindness, sympathy, and various forms of affection and friendship undoubtedly belong by birthright to the nature of man. They are as essential impulses in his soul as are the impulses to anger, fear, pride, and jealousy. Indeed, the two classes of impulses, when one attempts to classify them as two, and apart, appear so to interpenetrate, modify each other, and fuse together in complex emotional states, as to be prac- tically indistinguishable, if considered as furnishing motives to deeds and courses of conduct. The affection of the sexes, for example, often manifests itself as jealousy ; and, indeed, in not a few instances it feeds upon this passion. Much anger and pride are sympathetic, and belong to the social life of the community, whether domestic, tribal, or national. The various affections of family, tribe, and state foster no little anger and pride. To be proud, without sufficient reason, of the object of our love, is quite as natural as to love that which ministers to our pride. And there is no fiercer, as well as more rational anger, than that which burns against VIRTUES OF FEELING 313 the person who attacks a beloved member of one's own social or friendly alliance. These kindly outgoings of the human spirit belong as truly to man in a ''state of nature*' (if by a state of nature be meant any condition in which human existence is historically recognizable, or even conceivable in view of an accurate psychological analysis) as do any of his passions, emotions, or desires. On the other hand, it cannot be denied that, in some re- spects, the virtues of the heart are not so fundamental and essential to mere existence, or to the earliest stages of man's moral evolution, as are the cardinal virtues of the will and of the judgment. Courage, a certain amount of temperance and of wisdom, and some rude justice, can perhaps less easily be dispensed with, when man is making his first start toward the ideal of virtuous life, than can kindness, generosity, or the love of man as man. To be sure, one cannot fail to recognize a certain large truth in Aristotle's ^ declaration : " If citizens be friends, they have no need of justice, but though they be just, they need friendship or love also ; indeed, the completest realization of justice seems to be the realization of friendship or love also." But even the truth of this declaration seems to confirm the truth of what has just been said. Man cannot exercise the virtue of the higher justice without rendering to other men that kindly, sympathetic, and friendly service which is their due. And friendship is needed to satisfy a yearning which is native to every human soul, — except, per- haps, the most callous and degraded. There is, moreover, a profound and powerful ethical truth in the declaration that — " Love is the fulfilling of the law," in its essence and its entirety. But it is also true that the virtues of the heart flourish upon a basis laid by the sterner and less lovable virtues of courage, prudence, and a rude but sturdy form of protective and retributive justice. It is true, however, that some degree and form of the 1 Nic. Eth., VIII, i, 4. 314 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT virtues of feeling is found and appreciated at all the lower levels of moral evolution. A certain prizing, and even a relatively large amount of practice, of these virtues is often found among savage peoples. For no savages are all the while engaged in hating, killing, and abusing others — in- cluding those of their own household or tribe. Many savages are, on the contrary, quite habitually kind, generous, and friendly, not only to those of their own tribe, but also to strangers. One of the saddest things about the effect of contact with the evil representatives of peoples who have attained an advance of civilization that permits so-called " benevolence " largely to take the place of protective and punitive justice is this, it too often destroys the more simple and confiding forms of friendly feeling among savage peoples. What M. Rose says is true of his own countrymen with respect to their influence upon other savage virtues is too often true of so-called superior races generally in their influence upon the hospitality, generosity, and kindliness of inferior races: " The people are simple and confiding when we arrive, per- fidious when we leave them. Once sober, brave, and honest, we make them drunken, lazy, and finally thieves. After having inoculated them with our vices, we employ these very vices as an argument for their destruction." ^ Among the more warm-blooded races, however low in the scale of civilization, there is usually a large amount of the various forms of natural affection. Even where polygamy abounds, or concubinage is most unrestricted, affection be- tween the sexes is not wanting. Nor do abortion, the expos- ure and murder of children, and other similar kinds of crime against offspring, do away with that instinctive and powerful love which binds the parent — especially the mother — to the child. But particularly is hospitality counted to be essential among the virtues of manhood ; and the ties of friendly feeling everywhere bind men together — master and servant, chief and 1 Quoted by Quatrefages, The Human Species, p. 462. VIRTUES OF FEELING 315 retainer, old man and youth, tribesman with member of the same tribe — in a way to mitigate and sweeten the hardships and cruelties of the struggle for existence and for the posses- sion of the goods of life. The Tongan chiefs, according to Mariner, were familiar with the value of " the agreeable and happy feelings which a man experiences within himself when he does any good action and conducts himself nobly and gen- erously as a man ought to do." " A good name makes one sleep well " ; and '' A lent knife does not come back alone '* (^. e., a good deed is never thrown away), say the Basutos of South Africa, — while the lofty ancient morality of the Persians proclaims : " The liberal man is the friend of God " ; and, '' Practise liberality, but lay no stress on the obligation." Even our own savage and cruel ancestors who, not many generations ago, spared "the bairn that is on the floor" (is born) only when the father had caused it to be lifted up, prized the " pure virtue " of hospitality and enjoyed no little of " romantic love " in the marital relations of the sexes. It has already been said that kindness as spontaneous and natural feeling cannot be further analyzed or, strictly speak- ing, defined ; but its various manifestations, as these depend either upon the social relations under which the feeling comes into play, or upon the condition of the object toward whom the feeling goes out, require some separate mention. Of such relations the following three deserve chiefly to be con- sidered : (1) the relations of the family ; (2) the relations of the tribe, or other form of social community ; and (3) the peculiar relations which come under the term of friendship, in the narrower meaning of this word. In adopting this order I do not intend to raise the question whether the family or the tribe is the oldest social organization. The physical and mental constitution of man and woman is such that any sexual union, when continued and repeated, necessarily develops feelings either of affection or of repul- sion. So true is this that it is only under the most un- 316 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT favorable conditions, and where sexual intercourse is most unregulated by law or custom, and most brutish, that the human pair do not feel the happy impulse to some degree of distinguishing kindly feeling toward each other. Were it not that so many other influences, both among savage and highly civilized peoples, tend to counteract this impulse, it would probably be quite generally true that husbands and wives would love each other, — and this, whether the affec- tion were left to follow upon marriage or were made to precede it. Mothers naturally tend to feel a peculiar kind- ness toward their offspring; and amongst the cruellest of savages the pride and affection of the father in his son, whenever this son has grown to an age to reciprocate the simpler forms of intercourse, manifest themselves in not a few important ways. Members of the same family — brothers and sisters, daughters-in-law and mothers-in-law, etc. — doubtless quarrel frequently and bitterly enough even in the most re- fined and Christian communities ; but, after all, membership in the same family, however the family may be constituted and however much its confines may be enlarged, is the one form of affection which ties society together at its very base, so to say. Witness the amazing strength of the mixed and ill-defined Hindu family, both for offensive and for defensive purposes, in spite of the wide-spreading evil of family jealous- ies, bickerings, and strifes. In China, too, the cement which unites the various heterogeneous interests of the social fabric is a sort of loyal affection for the family and the clan. I have heard it said by one of those most familiar with Chinese char- acter that one can never judge the individual by himself as either so good or so bad as he seems to be. He is always, in his most fundamental and effective characteristics, a mem- ber of the family or clan. In spite of the large amount of insincerity, jealousy, and even cruelty which are prevalent among the different members of the same family or clan, *' filial piety," as they understand it, continues to be both the- VIRTUES OF FEELING 317 oreticallj and practically a force which mitigates the selfish struggle for existence among the Chinese. Every one familiar with the history of " Old Japan " knows how much of virtuous conduct, in spite of exceedingly loose notions of the morality of sexual relations, came from the reciprocal affections of those who bore the same family name, or who owed allegiance to the same Daimyo. To ethnology and the history of ethical development the student of the philosophy of conduct may confidently appeal to show how valuable, and how universal and effective, are these kindlier affections, and the virtues which grow out of them, among the different tribes and other subdivisions of the human race. When the common social life and social inter- ests have spread themselves over the larger and ever widening circles of men, the power of the friendly feelings, in general, is yet more obvious. It is never merely selfish interest, and rarely, if ever, the merely natural reaction of courageous anger against attack, which enlists the members of the same tribe or larger community in a common cause. It is rather also because they have sympathy with one another ; because even they, in some rude and imperfect fashion, obey the Divine command, as brethren to love one another. The idea of brotherhood, however, extends only to the one bound up in the same bundle, in respect of his notions, customs, language, loves, and even prejudices and hates. But, alas ! how few in the most Christian nations have really any higher conception of the brotherhood of man than just this ! There is something yet more imposing and in some sort mysterious about the love of friendship in the more restricted and positive meaning of this word. This peculiar form of love, although it is by no means identical with the affection which ties together the members of the same family, clan, or tribe, may be added to domestic or tribal affection, and so constitute a double cord for human souls. Where it exists between husband and wife, it may outlast, and outstrip in self- 318 PHILOSOPHY OF CONDUCT denying service and in mutual reward, the relations peculiar to the two sexes; where it binds brothers and sisters to- gether, it is a much more durable and purer bond than mere consanguinity. Where it exists in its noblest form, as between good souls who desire to have, and are able to have, suitable converse with each other, and whose motive for love is pure, friendship is the finest and most elevating of human affections. The mysterious nature of this bond, as respects both its origin and also the character of the persons between whom it can properly exist, or exist in fact at all, has been the subject of debate for centuries. Aristotle was forced to say : ^ " There are not a few differences of opinion about the matter." In his day some said the principle of choice is "Like to like," as "Crow to crow;" but others even then reminded the inquirer how "Potter quarrels with potter, and carpenter with carpenter" (Kal Kepa^ev