Southern Branch 
 of the 
 
 University of California 
 
 Los Angeles 
 
 Form L 1 
 
 3J
 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below 
 
 A 
 
 -'h 2 3 T32a 
 
 MAY 2 6 1931 
 
 DEC 3 1 ^952 
 
 1-^- 
 
 m L-9-:./H-12,'2;
 
 ELEMENTS of MORALS: 
 
 SPECIAL APPLICATION OF THE MORAL LAW TO THE 
 
 DUTIES OF THE INDIVIDUAL AND OF 
 
 SOCIETY AND THE STATE. 
 
 rZ/sJ-^ 
 
 BY 
 
 PAUL JANET, 
 
 MEMBER OF THE INSTITUTE, OF THE ACADEMY OF MORAL AND POLITICAL 
 
 SCIENCES, AUTHOR OF THEORY OF MORALS, HISTORY OF MORAL 
 
 AND POLITICAL PHILOSOPHY, FINAL CAUSES, ETC., ETC. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 Mits. O. R. CORSON. 
 
 
 ' 1 i ' i* 
 
 NEW YORK •:• CINCINNATI •:• CHICAGO 
 
 AMEKICAN BOOK COMPANY 
 
 FEOM THE PRESS OP 
 
 A. S. BARNES & CO. 
 
 Z 7 S9> 

 
 Copyright, ISSU, bv A. 8. Barnes & Oo. 
 
 I CI t • ,* • c ' 
 4 1 c • « r t 
 
 . I ' • » ' 
 
 ». «. t
 
 ]5T 
 
 PBEFACE 
 
 rriHE Elements de Morale, by M. Paul Janet, which we 
 -■■- here present to the educational world, translated from 
 the latest edition, is, of all the works of that distinguished 
 moralist, the one best adapted to college and school purposes. 
 Its scholarly and methodical arrangement, its clear and direct 
 reasonings, its felicitous examples and illustrations, drawn 
 with rare impartiality from the best ancient and modern 
 writers, make of this study of Ethics, generally so unattrac- 
 tive to young students, one singularly inviting. It is a sys- 
 tem of morals, practical rather than theoretical, setting forth 
 man's duties and the application thereto of the moral law. 
 Starting with Preliminary Notions, M. Janet follows these 
 up with a general division of duties, establishes the general 
 principles of social and individual morality, and chapter by 
 chapter moves from duties to duties, developing each in all 
 its ramifications with unerring clearness, decision, and com- 
 pleteness. Never before, perhaps, was this difficult subject 
 brought to the comprehension of the student with more con- 
 vincing certainty, and, at the same time, with more vivid 
 and impressive illustrations. 
 
 The position of M. Paul Janet is that of the religious 
 moralist. 
 
 " He supplies," says a writer in the British Quarterly Re- 
 view,* in a notice of his Theory of Morals, " the very element 
 
 ♦ No. CLIX.— July 1, 1884, pp. 246, 247.
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 to which Mr. Sully gives soJittle place. He cannot conceive 
 morals without religion. Stated shortly, his position is, that 
 moral good is founded upon a natural "and essential good, and 
 that the domains of good and of duty are absolutely equivalent. 
 So far he would seem to follow Kant ; but he differs from 
 Kant in denying that there are indefinite duties: every duty, 
 he holds, is definite as to its form; but it is either definite or 
 indefinite as to its application. As rehgion is simply belief in 
 the Divine goodness, morality must by necessity lead to reli- 
 gion, and is like a flowerless plant if it fail to do so. He holds 
 with Kant that practical faiffi in the existence of God is the 
 postulate of the moral law. The two things exist or fall to- 
 gether." 
 
 This, as to M. Janet's position as a moralist; as to his 
 manner of treating his subject, the Avriter adds : 
 
 "... it is beyond our power to set forth, with approach 
 to success, the admirable series of reasonings and iUustrations 
 by which his positions are estabHshed and maintained." 
 
 M. Janet's signal merit is the clearness and decision which 
 he gives to the main points of his subject, keeping them ever 
 distinctly in view, and strengthening and supplementing them 
 by substantial and conclusive facts, drawn from the best 
 sources, framing, so to say, liis idea in time-honored and 
 irrefutable truths. 
 
 The law of duty thus made clear to the comprehension of 
 the student, cannot fail to fix his attention ; and between fix- 
 ing the attention and striking root, the difference is not very 
 
 great, 
 
 ^ C. R. C.
 
 PREFATOEY NOTE. 
 
 M JANET is now too -n-ell know amongst us to need any intro- 
 • duction. His Causes Finales, which still remains the most 
 comprehensive and philosophical treatise ever written on the subject of 
 ends in nature, has become a naturalized classic in the English-speak- 
 ing world, thanks to the excellent translation of Mr. Affleck. And 
 all students of the deeper problems of ethics know the value of his 
 Morale, which has recently been translated under the supervision of 
 Ex- President Porter of Yale. 
 
 The EUmeivts de Morale, of which llrs. Corson here offers a transla- 
 tion, is addressed to a different and a larger audience. While the 
 Morale is in great part a metaphysics of ethics, and therefore abstract 
 and argumentative, the Elements de Morale, avoiding all subtle discus- 
 sions and abstruse researches, seeks, as M. Janet himself tells us, "to 
 present such of the clearest and most useful results of moral science as 
 would be accessible to all minds, especially those of the young." 
 
 This seems to . me a highly important mission at all times, and 
 especially in a critical and skeptical age like ours. Whatever difference 
 of opinion there may be about the ultimate origin and nature of duty, 
 there can be none about the desirability of having men think of duty. 
 Reflection may dissolve many beliefs, but, as the case of Darwin hap- 
 pily illustrates, it can only illumine the contents of the moral law and 
 strengthen its claims upon us. To stimulate such reflection in the 
 minds of the intelligent reading public, is the object of this work of 
 Janet's. And for its purpose it can be heartily recommended. 
 
 Mrs. Corson, who is equally at home in French and English, has 
 taken every pains to make the translation accurate. Her work may be 
 left to speak for itself I need only add that a few unimportants slips 
 which escaped revision in the first edition have here been removed. 
 
 J. G. SCUUKMAX. 
 Cornell University, Dec. 1st, 1SS7.
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. — Prclimiuary Notions 1 
 
 II. — Division of Duties. — General Principles of Social Moral- 
 ity 33 
 
 III. — Duties of Justice. — Duties toward Human Life. 50 
 
 IV. — Duties Concerning tlie Property of Others 63 
 
 V. — Duties toward the Liberty and toward tlio Honor of 
 Others. — Justice, Distributive and Remunerative. — 
 
 Equity 93 
 
 VI.— Duties of Charity and Self-Sacrifice Ill 
 
 VII.— Duties toward the State 1^ 
 
 VIIL— Professional Duties 157 
 
 IX. — International Duties. — International Law 182 
 
 _ X.— Family Duties 190 
 
 XL— Duties toward One's Self— Duties relative to the Body. 223 
 
 XII.— Duties relative to External Goods 244 
 
 XIIL— Duties relative to the Intellect 260 
 
 XIV.— Duties relative to the Will 281 
 
 XV.— Religious Morality.— Religious Rights and Duties 299 
 
 XVI.— Moral Medicine and Gymnastics 315 
 
 Appendix to Chapter VIII 341
 
 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 OHAPTEE I. 
 
 PEELIMINART 2fOTI02fS. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 Starting point of morals. — Notions of common sense. 
 Object and divisions of morals. — Practical morality and theoretical 
 morality. 
 
 Utility of morals. — Morals are useful : 1, in protecting us against 
 the sophisms which combat them; 2, in fixing principles in the 
 mind ; 3, in teaching us to reflect upon the motives of our 
 actions; 4, in preparing us for the diflSculties which may arise 
 in practice. 
 
 Short resume of theoretical morality.— Pleasure and the good. — 
 Utility and virtue. — Duty. — Moral conscience and moral sentiment. 
 — Liberty. — Merit and demerit. — Moral responsibility. — Moral sanc- 
 tion. 
 
 All sciences have for tlieir starting-point certain elementary 
 notions wiiich are furnished them by the common experience of 
 mankind. There Avould be no arithmetic if men had not, as 
 tlieir wants increased, begun by counting and calculating, and 
 if they had not already had some ideas of numbers, imity, 
 fractions, etc. ; neither Avould there be any geometry if they 
 had not also had ideas of the round, the square, the straight 
 line. The same is true of morals. They presuppose a certain 
 number of notions existing among all men, at least to some 
 degree. Good and evil, duty and obligation, conscience, lib-
 
 2 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 
 
 erty and responsibility, virtue and vice, merit and demerit, 
 sanction, punishment and reward, are notions which the 
 philosopher has not invented, but which he has borrowed 
 from common sense, to return them again cleared and deep- 
 ened. 
 
 Let us begin, then, by rapidly enumerating the elementary 
 and common notions, the analysis and elucidation of which is 
 the object of moral science, and explain the terms employed 
 to express them. 
 
 I. Starting point of morals: common notions.— Aii 
 men distinguish the good and the had, good actions and had 
 actions. For instance, to love one's parents, respect other 
 people's property, to keep one's word, etc., is right; to hanu 
 those who have done us no harm, to deceive and lie, to be 
 uncrrateful towards our benefactors, and unfaithful to our 
 friends, etc., is wrong. . _ 
 
 To do right is obligatory on every one— that is, it sliouid be 
 done; wrong, on the contrary, should be avoided. Duty is 
 that law by which we are held to do the right and avoid the 
 wrong. It is also called the moral laio. This law, like aU 
 laws, commands, forbids, and permits. 
 
 He who acts and is capable of doing the right and the 
 wrong, and who consequently is held to obey the moral law 
 is called a moral agent. In order that an agent may be held 
 to obey a law, he must know it and understand it. In morals, 
 as in legislation, no one is supposed to he ignorant of the law. 
 There is°then, in every man a certain knowledge of the law, 
 that is to say, a natural discernment of the right and the 
 wrong. This discernment is what is called conscience, or 
 
 sometimes the moral sense. -n ^ •+ • 
 
 Conscience is an act of the mind, a judgment. Eut it is 
 not only the mind that is made aware of the right and the 
 wron- • it is the heart. Good and evil, done either by others 
 or by^ourselves, awaken in us emotions, affections of diverse 
 nature. These emotions or affections are what collectively 
 constitute the moral sentiment.
 
 PRELIMINARY NOTIONS. 3 
 
 It does not suffice that a man know and distinguish the 
 good and the evil, and experience for the one and for the 
 other different sentiments ; it is also necessary, in order to he 
 a moral agent, that he be capable of choosing between them; 
 he cannot be commanded to do what he cannot do, nor can 
 he be forbidden to do what he cannot help doing. This 
 power of choosing is called liberty, ov free will. 
 
 A free agent — one, namely, who can discern between the 
 right and the wrong — is said to be responsible for his actions ; 
 that is to say, he can answer for them, give an account of 
 them, suffer their consequences ; he is then their real came. 
 His actions may consequently be attributed to him, put to his 
 account ; in other words, imputed to him. The agent is re- 
 sponsible, the actions are imjputahle. 
 
 Human actions, we have said, are sometimes good, some- 
 times bad. These two qualifications have degrees in propor- 
 tion to the importance or the difficulty of the action. It is 
 thus we call an action suitable, estimable, beautiful, admirable, 
 sublime, etc. On the other hand, a bad action is sometimes 
 but a simple mistake, and sometimes a crime. It is culpable, 
 base, abominable, execrable, etc. 
 
 If we observe in an agent the hahit of good actions, a con- 
 stant tendency to conform to the law of duty, this habit or 
 constant tendency is called virtue, and the contrary tendency 
 s called vice. 
 
 Whilst man feels himself bound by his conscience to seek 
 the right, he is impelled by his nature to seek pleasure. 
 When he enjoys pleasure without any admixture of pain, he 
 is happy ; and the highest degree of possible pleasure with 
 the least degree of possible pain is happiness. Now, experience 
 shows that happiness is not always in harmony with virtue, 
 and that pleasure does not necessarily accompany right 
 doing. 
 
 And yet we find such a separation unjust; and we believe 
 in a natural and legitimate connection between pleasure and 
 right, pain and wrong. Pleasure, considered as the conse-
 
 4 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 
 
 quence of Avell-doing, is called recom2Je7ise ; and pain, consid- 
 ered as the legitimate consequence of evil, is called xnmisli- 
 
 ment. 
 
 When a man has done well he thinks, and all other men 
 think, that he has a right to a recompense. When he has 
 done ill they think the contrary, and he himself thinks also 
 that he must atone for his wrong-doing by a chastisement. 
 This principle, by virtue of which we declare a moral agent 
 deserving of happiness or unhappiness according to his good 
 or bad actions, is called the principle of merit and demerit. 
 
 The sum total of the rewards and punishments attached to 
 the execution or violation of a law is called sanction; the 
 sanction of the moral law will then be caUed moral sano 
 
 tion. 
 
 All law presupposes a legislator. The moral law will pre- 
 suppose, then, a moraMegislator, and morality consequently 
 raises us to God. All human or earthly sanction being shown 
 by observation to be insufficient, the moral law calls for a re- 
 ligious sanction. It is thus that morality conducts us to the 
 immortality of the soul. 
 
 If we go back upon the whole of the ideas we have just 
 briefly expressed, we shall see that at each of the steps we 
 have "taken there are always two contraries opposed the one 
 to the other: good and evil, command and proliihition, virtue 
 and vice, merit and demerit, pleasure and pain, reward and 
 
 jinnisliment. 
 
 Human life presents itself, then, under two aspects. Man 
 can choose between the two. This power is liberty. This 
 choice is difficult and laborious ; it exacts from us incessant 
 efforts. It is for this reason that life is said to be a trial, 
 and is often represented as a coynbat. It should therefore 
 not be represented as a play, but rather as a manly and 
 valiant effort. Struggle is its condition, peace its prize. 
 
 Such are the fundamental ideas morality has for its object, 
 and of which it seeks, at the same time, both the principles 
 and the applications.
 
 PRELIMINARY NOTIONS. 5 
 
 2. What is morality? the object of morality. — Moral- 
 ity may be considered as a science or as an art. 
 
 By science we understand a totality of truths connected 
 with each other concerning one and the same object. Science 
 has for its object proper, knowledge. 
 
 By art we understand a totality of rules or precepts for 
 directing activity towards a definite end ; art has for its 
 object proper, action. 
 
 Science is theoretical or speculative; art \^ practical. 
 
 IMorality is a science inasmuch as it seeks to know and 
 demonstrate the principles and conditions of morality ; it is 
 an art inasmuch as it shows and prescribes to us its applica- 
 tions. 
 
 As science, morality may be defined : science of good or 
 science of duty. 
 
 As art, morality may be defined : the art of right living or 
 the art of right acting. 
 
 3. Division of morality. — MoraHty is divided into two 
 parts : in one it studies principles, in the other, applications ; 
 in the one, duty ; in the other, duties. 
 
 Hence a theoretical morality and a practical morality. The 
 first may also be called general morality, and the second par- 
 ticular morality, because the first has for its object the study 
 of the common and general character of all our duties, and 
 the other especially that of the particular duties, which vary 
 according to objects and circumstances. It is in the first that 
 morality has especially the character of science, and in the 
 second, the character of art. 
 
 4. Utility of morality. — The utility of moral science lias 
 been disputed. The ancients questioned whether virtue could 
 be taught. It may also be asked Avhether it should be taught 
 ^loraHty, it is said, depends much more upon the heart than 
 upon the reasoning faculties. It is rather by education, ex- 
 ample, habit, religion, sentiment, than through theories, that 
 men become habituated to virtue. If this were so, moral 
 science would be of no use.
 
 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 However, though it may be true that for happiness noth^ 
 incr can take the place of practice, it does not follow that re- 
 flection and study may not very efficaciously contribute 
 toward it, and for the following reasons : 
 
 1 It often happens that evil has its origin in the sophisms 
 of the mind, sophisms ever at the service of the passions. It 
 is therefore necessary to ward off or prevent these sophisms 
 by a thorough discussion of principles. 
 
 2 A careful study of the principles of morality causes 
 them to penetrate deeper into the soul and gives them there 
 
 greater fixity. 
 
 3 Morality consists not only in the actions themselves, but 
 especially in the motives of our actions. An outward moral- 
 ity wholly of habit and imitation, is not yet the true morality. 
 Morality must needs be accompanied by conscience and re- 
 flection. So viewed, moral science is a necessary element of 
 a sound education, and the higher its principles the more the 
 conscience is raised and refined. 
 
 4 Life often presents moral problems for our solution, it 
 the mind is not prepared for them it will lack certainty of 
 decision ; what above all is to be feared is that it wul most y 
 prefer the easier and the more convenient solution. It should 
 be fortified in advance against its own weakness by acquiring 
 the habit of judging of general questions before events put it 
 
 to the proof. 
 
 Such is the utility of morality. It is of the same service 
 to man as geometry is to the workman; it does not take the 
 place of tact and common sense, bat it guides and perfects 
 
 ^^' iTis well understood, moreover, that such a study in no- 
 wise excludes, it even exacts, the co-operation of aU he 
 practical means we have indicated above wnich constitute 
 what is called education. Doctrinal teaching is but th com- 
 plement and confirmation of teaching by practice and by ex- 
 
 'T' Short resume of theoretical movzy^i^.'Tl^eoreUcal
 
 PE£LliIi:NAEY NOTIONS. ' 7 
 
 morality sliould, in fact, precede practical morality, and that 
 is what usually takes place ; but as it presents more dithcul- 
 ties and less immediate applications than practical morality, 
 we shall defer the developments it may give rise to, to a subse- 
 quent year.* The present will be a short resume, purely 
 elementary, containing only preliminary and strictly necessary 
 notions. It will be an exposition of the common notions we 
 have just enumerated above. 
 
 6. Pleasure and the good. — Morality being, as we have 
 said, the science of the good, the first question that presents 
 itself is : Wliat is good ? 
 
 If we are to believe the first impulses of nature, which in- 
 stinctively urge us towards the agreeable and cause us to repel 
 all that is painful, the answer to the preceding question 
 would not be difficult; we should have but to reply: " Good 
 is what makes xis happy; good is pleasure." 
 
 One can, without doubt, affirm that morality teaches us to 
 be happy, and p\its us on the way to true happiness. But it 
 is not, as one might believe, in obeying that blind law of 
 nature Avhich inclines us tov/ards pleasure, tliat we shall be 
 truly happy. The road morality points out is less easy, but 
 surer. 
 
 Some very simple reflections will suffice to show us that 
 it cannot be said absolutely that pleasure is the good and 
 pain the bad. Experience and reasoning easily demonstrate 
 the falsity of this opinion. 
 
 1. Pleasure is not always a good, and in certain circum- 
 stances it may even become a real evil ; and, vice vei'sa, pain 
 is not always an evil, and it may even become *a great good. 
 Tinas we see, on the one hand, that the pleasures of intem- 
 perance bring with them sickness, the loss of health and rea- 
 son, shortening of life. The pleasures of idleness bring 
 poverty, uselessness, the contempt of men. The pleasures of 
 vengeance and of crime carry Avith them chastisement, re- 
 
 The fifth collegiate year will be devoted to thcoretiral morality.
 
 8 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 
 
 morse, etc. Conversely, again, we see the most painful 
 troubles and trials hrin^ini^r with them evident good. The 
 amputation of a limb saves our life ; energetic and painstak- 
 ing work brings comfort, etc. In these different cases, if Ave 
 consider their results, it is pleasure that is an evil and pain 
 a good. 
 
 2. It mnst be added that among the pleasures there are 
 some that are low, degrading, vulgar ; for example, the 
 pleasures of drunkenness ; others, again, that are noble and 
 generous, as the heroism of the soldier. Among the pleasures 
 of man there are some lie has in common with the beasts, 
 and others that are peculiar to liim alone. Shall we put the 
 one kmd and the other on the same level 1 Assuredly not. 
 
 3. There are pleasures very keen, which, however, are 
 fleeting, and soon pass away, as the pleasures of the passions ; 
 others which are durable and continuous, as those of health, 
 security, domestic comfort, and the respect of mankind. Shall 
 we sacrifice life-long pleasures to pleasures that last but an 
 hour ? 
 
 4. Other pleasures are very great, but equally uncertain, 
 and dependent on chance ; as, for instance, the pleasures of 
 ambition or the pleasures of the gaming-table ; others, again, 
 calmer and less intoxicating, but surer, as the pleasures of 
 the family circle. 
 
 Pleasures may then be compared in regard to certainty, 
 2mrity, durability, intensity, etc. Experience teaches that 
 Ave should not seek pleasures Avithout distinction and choice ; 
 that Ave should use our reason and compare them ; that Ave 
 should sacrifice an uncertain and fleeting present to a durable 
 future; prefer the simple and peaceful pleasures, free from re- 
 grets, to the tumultuous and dangerous pleasures of the pas- 
 sions, etc. ; in a Avord, sacrifice the agreeable to the useful. 
 
 7. Utility and virtue. — -One should prefer, Ave have just 
 seen, the useful to the agreeable ; but the useful itself should 
 not be confounded Avith the real good — that is, Avith the 
 honest.
 
 PRELI5IIKARY NOTIOXS. 9 
 
 Let us explain tlic differences between these two ideas. 
 
 1. There is no virtue or moral goodness without disin- 
 terestedness ; and he who never seeks anything but his own 
 personal interest is branded by all as a selfish man. 
 
 2. Interest gives only advice ; morality gives commands. 
 A man is not obliged to be skillful, but he is obliged, to be 
 vi7'tuous. 
 
 3. Personal interest cannot be the fomidation of any uni- 
 versal and general law as applicable to others as to ourselves, 
 for the happiness of each depends on his own way of viewing 
 things. Every man takes his pleasure where he finds it, and 
 understands his interest as he pleases ; but honesty or justice 
 is the same for all men. 
 
 4. The virtuous is clear and self-evident ; the useful is ?f«- 
 certain. Conscience tells every one what is right or WTong ; 
 but it requires a long trained experience to calculate all the 
 possible consequences of our actions, and it woiild often be 
 absolutely impossible for us to foresee them. "\Vo cannot, 
 therefore, always knoAv what is useful to us ; but we can 
 always know what is right. 
 
 5. It is never impossible to do right ; but one cannot 
 always carry out his own wishes in order to be happy. The 
 prisoner may always bravely bear his prison, but he cannot 
 always get out of it. 
 
 6. We judge ourselves according to the principles of action 
 we recognize. The man who loses in gambling may he troid)led 
 and regret his imprudence ; but he who is conscious of having 
 cheated in gambling (though he won thereby) must desjn'sc 
 himself if he judges himself from the standpoint of moral 
 law. This law must therefore be something else than the 
 principle of personal liappiness. For, to bo able to say to 
 one's self, " I am a villain, though I have filled my purse," 
 requires another principle than that by Avhich one congratu- 
 lates himself, saying, " I am a prudent man, for I have filled 
 my cash-box." 
 
 7. The idea of punishnifint or chastisement could not bo
 
 10 
 
 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 understood, moreover, if the good only ^vere tlie useful. A 
 man is not punished for inaptitude ; he is punished for his 
 
 ^""f The good op virtue.-We have just seen that neither 
 pleasure nor usefulness is the legitimate and supreme ohject 
 of human life. We are certainly permitted to seek pleasure, 
 since nature invites us to it; hut Ave shoidd not make it the 
 aim of life. We are also permitted, and even sometimes 
 commanded, to seek what is useful, since reason demands we 
 see to our self-oreservation. ' But, above pleasure and utdity, 
 there is another aim, a higher aim, the real ohject of human 
 life. This higher and final aim is what we call, according to 
 circumstances, the good, the virtuous, and the just 
 
 Now, what is virtue ? . -, ^ i 
 
 We distinguish in man a double nature, hodi/ and soul ; 
 and in the soid itself two parts, one superior, one inferior; 
 one more particularly deserving of the name of soul, the other 
 more carnal, more material, if one may say so which comes 
 nearer the body. In one class we have intelhgence, smt^- 
 ments, will; in the other, senses, appetites, passions Now, 
 that which distinguishes man from the lower animal is the 
 power to rise above the senses, appetites, and passions, and to 
 be capable of thinking, loving, and willing. _ 
 
 Thus, moral good consists in preferrmg what there is best 
 in us to what there is least good ; the goods of the soul to the 
 goods of the body ; the dignity of human nature to the servi- 
 tude of animal passions ; the noble affections of the heart to 
 the inclinations of a vile selfishness. 
 
 In one word, moral good consists m man becoming truly 
 ,nan-that is to say, ;; A free will, guided by the heart and 
 enlightened by reason." 
 
 Moral -ood takes different names, according to the relation, 
 under which we consider it. For instance, when we consider 
 it as having for its special object the individual man m rela- 
 tion with himself, good becomes what is properly called 
 virtue, and has for its prime object personal dignity. In its
 
 rRELIMlXAKY MOTIONS. 11 
 
 relation with other men, good takes the name of the jiist, and 
 has for its special object the happiness of others. It consists 
 either in not doing to others what we should not wish they 
 should do to us, ur in doing to others as we should ourselves 
 wish to be done by. Finally, in its relation to God, the 
 good is called piety or saintliness, and consists in rendering to 
 the Father of men and of the uni Averse what is his due. 
 
 9. Duty. — Thus, the virtuous, i\ie just, and the x>ious are 
 the different names which moral good takes in its relations to 
 ourselves, to other men, or to God. 
 
 Moral good, under these different forms, presents itself 
 always in the same character, namely, imposing on us the ob- 
 ligation to do it as soon as avc recognize it, and that, too, 
 without regard to conseqiiences and wliatever be our inclina- 
 tions to the contrary. 
 
 Thus, we should tell the truth even though it injures us; 
 Ave should respect the property of others, though it be neces- 
 sary to our existence ; finally, avc should CA'en sacrifice, if 
 necessary, our life for the family and the countrj-. 
 
 This laAv, AA'hich prescribes to us the doing right for its 
 OAvn sake, is Avhat is called moral law or the law of duty. It 
 is a sort of constraint, but a moral constraint, and is distin- 
 guished from 2'hl/sical constraint by the fact that the latter is 
 dictated by fate and is irresistible, Avhilst the constraint of 
 duty imposes itself upon our reason Avithout violating our 
 liberty. This kind of necessity, Avhich commands reason 
 alone A\uthout constraining the Avill, is moral obligation. 
 
 To say that the right is obligatory is to say, then, that Ave 
 consider ourselves held to do it, Avithout being forced to do it. 
 On the contrary, if Ave Avere to do it by force it would cease 
 te be the right. It must therefore be done freely, and duty 
 may thus be defined an ohligation consented to. 
 
 iDuty presents itself in a tAvo-fold character : it is absolute 
 and universcd. 
 
 1. It is absolute : that is to say, it imposes its commands 
 Unconditionally, Avithout taking account of our desires, our
 
 ]^2 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 passions, oiTr interests. It is by this that the commands of 
 duty may be distinguished, as we have ah-eady said, from the 
 counsels of an interested prudence. The rules or calculations 
 of prudence are nothing but means to reach a certain end, 
 which is the useful. The law of duty, on the contrary, is in 
 itself its own aim. Here the law should be obeyed for its own 
 sake, and not for any other reason. Prudence says : " The 
 end justiHes the means." Duty says : "Do as thou shouldst 
 do, let come what will." 
 
 2. From this first character a second is deduced : duty being 
 absolute, is urdversal ; that is to say, it can be apphed to all 
 men in the same manner and under the same circumstances ; 
 whence it follows that each must acknowledge that this law 
 is imposed not only on himself, but on all other men also. 
 
 To which correspond those two beautiful maxims of the 
 Gospel : "Do to others as thou wishest to be done by. Do 
 not do to others what thou dost not wish they should do to 
 
 thee." . ,^ .^ . 
 
 The law of duty is not only obligatory m itself, it is so 
 also because it is derived from God, Avho in his justice and 
 goodness wishes we should submit to it. God being himself 
 the absolutely perfect being, and having created us m his 
 image, wishes, fortius very reason, that we should make every 
 effort to imitate him as much as possible, and has thus imposed 
 on us the obligation of being virtuous. It is God we obey 
 in obeying the law of honesty and duty. 
 
 10. Moral conscience.— A law cannot be imposed on a 
 free accent without its being known to him ; without its being 
 present to his mind-that is to say, without his accepting it 
 as true, and recognizing the necessity of its application m 
 every particular case. This faculty of recognizing the moral 
 law, and applying it in all the circumstances that may present 
 thoiusi'lves, is what is called comcience. 
 
 Conscience is then that act of the mind by which we apply 
 
 to a particular case, to an action to he perforrmd or already 
 
 'joerformr'd, the general rules prescribed by moral law. it is
 
 PRELIMINARY NOTIONS. 13 
 
 })()tli the power that commands and the inward judge that 
 condemns or absolves. On the one hand it dictates Avhat 
 should be done or avoided ; on the other it jitdges what has 
 been done. Hence it is the condition of the performance of 
 all our duties. 
 
 Conscience being the practical judgnient which in each 
 particular ca&o decides the right and the wrong, one can ask 
 of man only one thing : namely, to act according to his con- 
 science. At the moment of action there is no other rule. Eut 
 one must take great care lest by subtle doubts, he obscures 
 either within liimself or in others the clear and distinct de- 
 cisions of conscience. 
 
 In fact, men often, to divert themselves from the right 
 when they Avisli to do certain bad actions, fight their own 
 conscience with sophisms. Under the influence of these soph- 
 isms, conscience becomes erroneous ; that is to say, it ends by 
 taking good for evil and evil for good, and this is even one 
 of the punishments of those who follow the path of vice : 
 they become at last incapable of discerning between right and 
 wrong. When it is said of a man that he has no conscience, 
 it is not meant that he is really deprived of it (else he were 
 not a man) ; but that he has fallen into the habit of not con- 
 sulting it or of holding its decisions in contempt. 
 
 By ignorant conscience we mean that conscience which does 
 wrong because it has jnot yet learned to know wliat is right. 
 Thus, a child tormenting animals does not always do so out of 
 bad motives : he docs not know or does not think that he 
 hurts them. In fact, it is with good as it is with evil ; the 
 child is already good or bad before it is able to discern be- 
 tween the one or the other. This is what is called the state 
 of innocence, Avhich in some respects is conscience asleep. But 
 this state cannot last ; the child's conscience, and in general 
 the conscience of all men, must be enlightened. Tliis is the 
 pwgress of human reason which every day teaches us better 
 to know the difference between good and evil. 
 
 It sometimes happens that one is in some respects in doubt
 
 14 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 between two indications of conscience; not, of course, between 
 duty and passion, which is the highest moral combat, but be- 
 tween two or more duties. This is Avhat is called a douhhng 
 ov perplexed conscience. In such a case the simplest rule to 
 follow, when it is practicable, is the one expressed by that 
 celebrated maxim : When in doubt, abstain. In cases wliere 
 it is impossible to absolutely abstain, and where it becomes 
 necessary not only to act but to choose, the rule should always 
 be to choose that part which favors least our interests, for we 
 may always suppose that that which causes our conscience to 
 doubt, is an interested, unobserved motive. If there is no 
 private interest in the matter either on the one side or the 
 other there remains nothing better to do than to decide 
 according to circumstances. But it is very rare that con- 
 science ever finds itself in such an absolute state of doubt, ana 
 there are almost always more reasons on the one side than on 
 the other. The simplest and most general rule in such a case 
 is to chose what seems most probable. 
 
 II Moral Sentiment.— At the same time, as the mind 
 distinguishes between good and evil by a judgment called 
 conscience, the heart experiences emotions or divers affections, 
 Avhich are embraced under the common term moral sentwieni. 
 These are the pleasures or pains which arise in our soul at the 
 si"ht of good or evil, cither in ourselves or in others. 
 
 °In respect to our own actions this sentiment is modified 
 according as the action is to be performed, or is already per- 
 formed In the first instance we experience, on the one hand, 
 a certain attraction for the right (that is when passion is not 
 stron- enough to stifle it), and on the other, a repugnance or 
 aversion for the wrong (more or less attenuated, according to 
 circumstances, by habit or the violence of the design). Usage 
 has not given any particular names to these two sentiments. 
 ' When on the contrary, the action is performed, the pleasure 
 which results from it, if we have acted rightly, is called moral 
 .rdirfadion; and if we have acted wrong, remorse, or re- 
 licntanee.
 
 PRELIMINARY NOTIONS. 15 
 
 Eemorse is a burning pain ; and, as the word indicates, the 
 bite that tortures the heart after a culpable action. This 
 pain may be found among the very ones who have no regret 
 for having done wrong, and who would do it over again if 
 they could. It has therefore no moral character whatsoever, 
 and must be considered as a sort of punishment attached to 
 crime by nature herself. "Malice," said Montaigne, " poisons 
 itself with its own venom. Vice leaves, like an ulcer in the 
 flesh, a repentance in the soul, which, ever scratching itself, 
 draws ever fresh blood." 
 
 Repentance is also, like remorse, a pain which comes from a 
 bad action; but there is coupled with it the regret of having done 
 it, and the wish, if not the firm resolution, never to do it again. 
 
 Repentance is a sadness of the soul ; remorse is a torture 
 and an anguish. Repentance is almost a virtue ; remorse is 
 a punishment ; but the one leads to the other, and he who 
 feels no remorse can feel no repentance. 
 
 Moral satisf action, on the contrary, is a peace, a joy, a keen 
 and delicious emotion born from the feeling of having accom- 
 plished one's duty. It is the only remuneration that never 
 fails us. 
 
 Among the sentiments called forth by our own actions, 
 there are two which are the natural auxiliaries of the moral 
 sentiment : they are the sentiment of honor and the sentiment 
 of shame. 
 
 Honor is a principle which incites us to perform actions 
 Avhich raise us in our own eyes, and to avoid such as would 
 lower us. 
 
 Shame is the opposite of honor ; it is what we feel when 
 wo have done something that lowers us not only in the 
 eyes of others, but in our own. All remorse is more or less 
 accompanied by shame ; yet the shame is greater for actions 
 which indicate a certain baseness of soul. For instance, one 
 will feel more ashamed of having told a falsehood than for 
 having struck a person ; for having cheated in gambling than 
 for having fought a duel.
 
 IQ ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 Honor and shame are therefore not always an exact measure 
 of the moral value of actions ; for be they but brilliant, man 
 will soon rid himself of all shame ; this happens, for instance, 
 in cases of prodigality, licentiousness, ambition. One does 
 wrong, not without remorse, but with a certain ostentation 
 which stifles the feelings of shame. 
 
 Let us pass now to the sentiments which the actions of 
 
 others excite in us. 
 
 Sympathy, antipathy, kindness, esteem, contempt, respect, 
 enthusiasm, indignation, these are the various terms by which 
 we express the diverse sentiments of the soul touching virtue 
 
 and vice. 
 
 SyjnpafJij/ is a disposition to share the same impressions 
 with other men ; to sympathize Avith their joy is to share 
 that joy ; to sympathize with their grief is to share that grief. 
 It may happen that one sympathizes with the defects of others 
 when they are the same as our own ; but, as a general thing, 
 people sympathize above all with the good qualities, and 
 experience only antipathy for the bad. At the theatre, all 
 the spectators, good and bad, wish to see virtue rewarded and 
 crime punished. 
 
 The contrary of sympathy is antipathy. 
 
 Kindness is the disposition to wish others well. Usteem is a 
 sort of kindness mingled with judgment and reflection, which 
 we feel for those who have acted well, especially in cases of or- 
 dinary virtues ; for before the higher and more difficult virtues, 
 esteem becomes respect ; if it be heroism, respect turns into 
 admiration and enthusiasm ; admiration being the feeling of 
 surprise which great actions excite in us, and enthusiasm that 
 same feeling pushed to an extreme ; carrymg us away from our- 
 selves, as if a god were in us.* Contempt is the feeling of 
 aversion we entertain towards him who does wrong ; it im- 
 plies particularly a case of base and shameful actions. 
 When these actions are only condemnable without being 
 
 * Tho word enthusiasm comes from a Greek word signifying, to be filled with 
 a Kod.
 
 PRELIMINARY NOTIONS. 17 
 
 odious, the sentiment is one of hlame, which, Hke esteem, is 
 nearer being a judgment than a sentiment. When, finally, it 
 is a case of criminal and revolting actions, the feeling is one 
 of horror or execration. 
 
 12. Liberty. — We have already said that man or the 
 moral agent is free, when he is in a condition to choose be- 
 tween right and wrong, and able to do either at his will. 
 
 Liberty always supposes one to be in possession of himself. 
 Man is free when he is awake, in a state of reason, and an 
 adult. He is not free, or very little so, when he is asleep, 
 or delirious, or in his first childhood. 
 
 Liberty is certified to man. 
 
 1. By the inward sentiment which accompanies each of his 
 acts ; for instance, at the moment of acting, I feel that I can 
 will or not will to do such or such an action ; if I enter on 
 it, I feel that I can discontinue it as long as it is not fully 
 executed ; when it is completed, I am convinced that I might 
 have acted otherwise. 
 
 2. By the very fact of moral law or dut//; I ought, therefore 
 I can. No one is held to do the impossible. If, then, there is 
 in me a law that commands me to do good and avoid evil, it 
 is because I can do either as I wish. 
 
 3. By the 7noral satisfaction which accompanies a good 
 action ; by the remorse or repentance which follows a bad one. 
 One does not rejoice over a thing done against his will, and 
 no one reproaches himself for an act committed under com- 
 pulsion. The first word of all those reproached for a bad 
 action is, that it was not done on purpose, intentionallij. They 
 acknowledge thereby that we can only be reproached for an 
 action done wilfully ; namely, freely. 
 
 4. By the rewards and punishments, and in general by the 
 moral responsibility which is attached to all our actions when 
 they have been committed knowingly. AVe do not punish 
 actions which are the result of constraint or ignorance. 
 
 5. By the exhortations or counsels we give to others. We 
 do not exhort a man to be warm or cold, not to suffer hunger
 
 18 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 or thirst, because it is well known that this is not a thing de- 
 pendent on his wiU. But we exhort him to be honest, be- 
 cause we believe that he can be so if he wishes. 
 
 6. By promises : no one promises not to die, not to be sick, 
 etc., but one promises to be present at a certain meeting, to 
 pay a certain sum of money, on such a day, to such a man, 
 because one feels he can do so unless circumstances over 
 which he has no control prevent. 
 
 Prejudices against Liberty. — Although men, as we have seen, 
 may have the sense of liberty very strong, and may show it by 
 their acts, by their approbation or blame, etc., yet, on the other 
 hand, they often yield to the force of certain prejudices 
 which seem to contradict the universal belief we have just 
 spoken of. 
 
 1. Cliarader. — The principal one of these prejudices is the 
 often expressed opinion that every man is impelled by his own 
 character to perform the actions wliich accord with this chai- 
 acter, and that there is no help against this irresistible neces- 
 sity of nature ; this is often expressed by the common axiom : 
 " One cannot make himself over again." The same has also 
 been expressed by the poet Destouches in that celebrated line : 
 
 Chasstiz le naturel, il revient au galop.* 
 
 Nothing is less exact as a fact and more dangerous as a 
 principle, than this pretended immutability of human char- 
 acter, which, if true, would render evil irremediable and incor- 
 rigible. 
 
 Experience teaches the contrary. No man is wholly de- 
 prived of good and bad inclinations ; he may develop the one 
 or tlie other, as he chooses betAveen them. 
 
 2. Habits. — Habits in the long run become, it is true, 
 irresistible. It is a fact which has been often observed ; but 
 if, on the one hand, an inveterate habit is irresistible, it is not 
 so in the beginning, and man is thus free to prevent the en- 
 
 * Drive away nature, and it gallops back again. Lafontaine has .said tlie same 
 thing : " Shut the door to its nose, and it will return by the window."
 
 PRELIMIXARY NOTIONS. 19 
 
 croachments of bad habits. It is for this reason that moralists 
 ■warn us above all against the beginnings of habits. " Beware 
 especially of beginnings," says the Imitation. 
 
 3. Passions. — Passions have especially enjoyed the privilege 
 of passing for uncontrollable and irresistible. All great sin- 
 ners find their excuse in the fatal allurements of passions. 
 " The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak," says the Gos- 
 pel. The remarks we have just made touching the habits, 
 may be equally applied to the passions. It is rare that pas- 
 sions manifest themselves all of a sudden, and with that ex- 
 cess of violence which, breaking upon one imexpectedly and 
 like a delirium, assume, indeed, aU the appearances of a 
 fatality. But, as a general thing, passions grow little by little. 
 " Some smaller crimes always precede the greater crimes." It 
 is especially when the first attacks of a passion begin to show 
 themselves that it should be energetically fought do\vn. 
 
 4. Education and circumstances. — The education one has 
 received, the circumstances one finds himself in, may put a 
 limit to liis liberty ; and man is not wholly responsible for the 
 impulses which he may owe to example and the bad principles 
 in which he may have been brought up. These may, perhaps, 
 be called attenuating circumstances ; but they do not go so far 
 as wholly to suppress liberty and responsibility. In the ap- 
 preciation of other people^s acts, we may allow the attenuating 
 circumstances as large a margin as possible, but in the case of 
 self-government, one should make it as strict and narrow as 
 possible. No one having, in fact, a measure by which he may 
 determine his moral strength in an absolute manner, it is 
 better to aim too high than too low. One should be guided 
 by the principle that nothing is impossible to him Avho has a 
 strong will ; for " we can do a thing when we think we can." 
 In conclusion, liberty means nothing else but moral strength. 
 Experience certifies that man can become the master of the 
 physical nature which he can subject to his designs ; he can 
 gain the mastery over his own body, his passions, his habits, 
 his own disposition ; in a word, he can be " master of him-
 
 20 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 self." In thus ascending, step by step, from exterior nature 
 to the body, from the body to the passions, from the passions 
 to the habits and the character, we arrive at the first motor 
 of action which moves everytliing without being moved : 
 namely, liberty. 
 
 13. Merit and demerit— We call in general merit the 
 quality by virtue of which a moral agent renders himself 
 worthy of a reward ; and deinerit that by which he renders 
 himself, so to say, worthy of punishment. 
 
 The merit of an action may be determined : 1, by the diffi- 
 culty of the action ; 2, by the importance of the duty. 
 
 1. Why, for instance, is there in general very little merit 
 in respecting other people's property and abstaining from 
 theft 1 Because education in this respect has so fashioned us, 
 that few men have any temptation to the contrary; and, even 
 were there such a temptation, we should be ashamed to pub- 
 licly claim any merit for having resisted it. 
 
 Why, on the other hand, is there great merit in sacrificing 
 one's life to the happiness of others 1 Because we are strongly 
 attached to life, and comparatively very little attached to men 
 in general ; to sacrifice what we love most, to what we love 
 but little, from a sense of duty, is evidently very difficult ; for 
 this reason, we find in this action a very great merit. 
 
 Suppose a man, who had enjoyed in all security of con- 
 science and during a long life, a large f ortime which he be- 
 lieves his, and of which he has made the noblest use, should 
 learn all at once, and at the brink of old age, that this fortune 
 belongs to another. Suppose, to render the action still more 
 difficult to perform, that he alone knows the fact, and could 
 consequently in all security keep the fortune if he wishes : 
 aggravate the situation still more by supposing that this for- 
 tune belongs to heirs in great poverty, and that in renouncing 
 it the possessor would himself be reduced to utter misery. 
 Imagine, finally, all the circumstances which may render a 
 duty both the strictest and most difficult, and you will have 
 an action the merit of wliich will be very great.
 
 PRELIMINARY X0TI0N3. 31 
 
 2. It is not only the difficulty of an action that constitutes 
 its merit, but also the importance of the duty. Thus the 
 merit of a difficulty surmounted, has no more value in 
 morality than it has in poetry, when it stands alone. One 
 may of course impose upon himself a sort of moral gymnastics, 
 and consequently very difficult tasks, though very useless in 
 the end; but these will be considered only in the light of dis- 
 cipline and exercise, and not in that of duty ; and this dis- 
 cipline woidd have to be more or less connected with the life 
 one may ])e called to lead. For instance, suppose a mission- 
 ary, called to brave during all his life aU kinds of climates 
 and dangers, should exercise himself beforehand in under- 
 takings brave and bold, such undertakings would be both 
 reasonable and meritorious. But he who out of bravado, 
 ostentation, and without any worthy aim, should undertake the 
 climbing to inaccessible mountain-tops, the swimming across 
 an arm of the sea, the fighting openly ferocious animals, etc., 
 he would accompKsh actions which, it is true, woidd not be 
 without merit, since they are brave ; but their merit would not 
 be equivalent to that we should attribute to other actions less 
 difficult, but more wise. 
 
 As to demerit, it is in proportion to the gravity of duties, 
 and the facility of accomplishing them. The more important 
 a matter, and the easier to fulfil, the more is one culpable 
 in failing to fulfil it. 
 
 According to these principles, one may determine as follows 
 the estimation of moral actions : 
 
 Human actions, we have said, are divided into two classes : 
 the good and the bad. It is a question among the moralists 
 to determine whether there are any that are to be called in- 
 differ^tit. 
 
 Among the good actions, some are hemdifid, heroic, sublime ; 
 others, proper, right, and virtuous ; among the bad, some are 
 simply censurable, others shameful, criminal, hideous ; finally, 
 among the indifferent ones, some are agreeable and allowable, 
 others necessary and unavoidable.
 
 22 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 Let us give some examples by which the different characters 
 of human actions may be well understood. 
 
 A judge Vv^ho administers justice without partiality, a mer- 
 chant who sells his merchandise for no more than it is worth, 
 a debtor who regularly pays his creditor, a soldier punctual 
 at drill, obedient to discipline, and faithful at his post in 
 times of peace or war, a schoolboy doing regularly the task 
 assigned to him, all these persons perform actions good and 
 laudable, but they cannot be called extraordinary. They are 
 approved of, but not admired. To manage one's fortune 
 economically, not to yield too much to the pleasure of the 
 senses, to tell no lies, to neither strike nor wound others, are 
 so many good, right, proper, and estimable actions ; but they 
 cannot be called admirable actions. 
 
 Actions are beautiful in proportion to the difficulty of their 
 performance ; when they are extremely difficult and perilous, 
 then we call them heroic and sublime ; that is, provided they 
 are good actions, for heroism is unfortunately sometimes allied 
 with wrong. He who, like President de Harlay, can say to 
 a very powerful usurper : " It is a sad thing when the servant is 
 allowed to dismiss the master ;" he who can say, like Viscount 
 d'Orthez, who made opposition to Charles IX. after St. 
 Bartholomew, saying : " My soldiers are no executioners ;" ho 
 who, like Boissy d'Anglas, can firmly and resolutely uphold the 
 rights of an assembly in the face of a sanguinary, violent, and 
 rebellious populace ; he who, like Morus or Dubourg, would 
 rather die than sacrifice his trust ; he who, like Columbus, 
 can venture upon an unknown ocean, and brave the revolt of 
 a rude and superstitious crew, to obey a generous conviction ; 
 he who, like Alexander, confides in friendship enough to re- 
 ceive from the hands of his physician a drink reputed poisoned; 
 any man, in short, who devotes himself for his fellow beings, 
 who, in fire, in water, in the depths of the earth, braves 
 death to save life ; who, in order to spread the truth, to re- 
 main true and honest, to work in the interests of religion,
 
 PRELIMINAKY NOTIONS. 23 
 
 science, or humanit}^ will suffer hunger and thirst, poverty, 
 slavery, torture, or death, is a hero. 
 
 Epictetus was a slave. His master, for some negligence or 
 other, caused him to l)e beaten. " You will break my leg," 
 said the sufferer ; and the leg broke, indeed, under the blows. 
 " I told you you would break it," he remarked quietly. This 
 is a hero. 
 
 Joan of Arc, defeated by the English and made a prisoner, 
 threatened with the stake, said to her executioners : " I knew 
 quite well that the English would put me to death ; but were 
 there a hundred thousand of them, they should not have this 
 kingdom." This is a heroine. 
 
 Bad actions have their degrees likewise. But here we 
 should call attention to the fact that the worst are those that 
 stand in opposition to the simply good actions ; on the con- 
 trary, an action which is not heroic is not necessarily bad ; 
 and when it is bad it is not to be classed among the most 
 criminal. Some examples will again be necessary to under- 
 stand these various shades of meaning, which every one feels 
 and recognizes in practice, but which are very difficult to 
 analyze theoretically. 
 
 To be respectful towards one's parents is a good and proper 
 action, but not a heroic one. On the contrary, to strike them, 
 insult them, kill them, are abominable actions, and to be 
 classed among the basest and most hideous that can be com- 
 mitted. To love one's friends, to be as serviceable to them 
 as possible, shows a straightforward and well-endowed soul ; 
 but there is nothing sublime in it. On the other hand, to 
 betray friendship ; to slander those that love us ; to lie 
 in order to win their favor ; to inquire into their secrets 
 for the purpose of using them against them, are black, 
 base, and shamefid actions. There is scarcely any merit in 
 not taking what does not belong to us ; theft, on the con- 
 trary, is the most contemptible of things. Now, not to be 
 able to bear with adversity, to fear death, to shrink from 
 braving the ice of the North Pole, to stay at homo when firo
 
 24 _ ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 or flood threatens our neighbor, may be mean or weak, but not 
 criminal. Let us add, however, that there are cases where 
 heroism becomes obligatory, and where it is criminal not to be 
 heroic. A sea-captain, who has endangered his ship, and 
 who, instead of saving it, leaves his post ; a general who, 
 when the moment caUs for it, refuses to die at the head of 
 his army, lack courage ; the chief of a State who, in times of 
 revolt, or when the country is in peril, fears death ; the pre- 
 sident of a convention who takes to flight before a rebellion ; 
 the physician who runs away before an epidemic ; the magis- 
 trate who is afraid to be just; all these are truly culpable. 
 Every condition of life has its peculiar heroism, which at cer- 
 tain moments becomes a duty. Yet will it always be true 
 that the more easy an action is, the less excusable is its neglect, 
 and consequently the more odious is it to try to escape from it. 
 Besides the good or bad actions, there are others wliich ap- 
 pear to partake of neither the one nor the other of these two 
 characters, which are neither good nor bad, and which for 
 this reason are called indifferent. For instance, to go and 
 take a walk is an action which, considered by itself, is neither 
 good nor bad, although it may become the one or the other 
 according to circumstances. To be asleep, to be awake, to 
 eat, to tSce exercise, to talk with one's friends, to read an 
 acrreeable book, to play on some instrument, are actions which 
 certainly have nothing bad in themselves, but which, never- 
 theless, could not be cited as examples of good actions. One 
 would not say, for instance, such a one is an honest man be- 
 cause he plays the violin well ; such a one is a scholar because 
 he has a good appetite; still loss when actions absolutely 
 necessary come into question, as the act of breathing and 
 sleeping. Actions, then, which are inseparable from the 
 necessities of our existence, have no moral character ; they are 
 the same with us as with the animals and plants; they are 
 purely natural actions. There are others, again, that are not 
 necessary, but simply agreeable, which we perform because 
 ihov suit our tastes and fancies.
 
 PKELIMINAllY NUTIONS. 25 
 
 It is sufficient that they arc not contrary to the right, that 
 one cannot call them bad ; but it does not foUow from this 
 that they are good, and such are wliat are called indifferent 
 actions. 
 
 Such, at least, is the appearance of things ; for, in a more 
 elevated sense, the moralists were right in saying that there 
 is no action absolutely indifferent, and that all actions are in 
 some respect good or bad, according to motive. 
 
 14. Moral responsibility. — Man being free, is for this reason 
 respdnsihle for liis actions : they can be imputed to him. These 
 two expressions have about the same meaning, only the term 
 responsibility applies to the agent, and imputability to the 
 actions. 
 
 The two fundamental conditions of moral responsibility 
 are : 1, the knowledge of good and evil ; 2, the liberty of 
 action. In proportion as these two conditions vary, the re- 
 sponsibility will vary. 
 
 It follows from tliis, that idiocy, insanity, delirium in cases 
 of illness — destroying nearly always both conditions of re- 
 sponsibility — namely, discernment and free agency, deprive 
 thereby of all moral character the actions committed in these 
 different states. They are not of a nature to be imputed to 
 a moral agent. Yet are there certain lunatics not wholly in- 
 sane who may preserve in their lucid state a certain portion of 
 responsibility. 
 
 2. Drunkenness. May that be considered a cause of irre- 
 sponsibility 1 No, certainly not ; for, on the one hand, one is 
 responsible for the very act of drunkenness ; and, on the other, 
 one knows that in putting himself in such a condition he ex- 
 poses himself to all its consequences, and accepts them im- 
 plicitly. For example, he who puts himself in a state of 
 drunkenness, consents beforehand to all the low, vulgar 
 actions inseparable from that state. As to the violent and 
 dangerous actions which may accidentally result from it, as 
 blows and murders springing from quarrels, one cannot, of 
 eourse, impute them to the drunken man with the same sever-
 
 2Q ELEMEJ^TS OF MORALS. 
 
 ity as to the sober man, for he certainly did not explicitl;^ 
 chose them when he put himself into a state of drunkenness ; 
 but neither is he wholly innocent of them, for he knew that 
 they were some of the possible consequences of that condition. 
 As to him who puts himself voluntarily into a state of 
 drunkenness, with the express intention of committing a 
 crime and giving himself courage for the act, it is evident 
 that, so far from diminishing thereby his share of responsi- 
 bility in the action, he, on the contrary, increases it, since he 
 makes violent efforts to keep off all the scruples or hesitations 
 which might keep him from committing it. 
 
 3. " ISTo one is held to do impossible things." According 
 to this theory, it is evident that one is not responsible for an 
 action he has been absolutely unable to accomplish ; thus we 
 cannot blame a paralytic, or a child, or an invalid, for not 
 taking up arms in defence of his country. Yet Ave must not 
 have voluntarily created the impossibility of acting, as it often 
 happened in Kome, where some, in order not to go to war, cut 
 off their thumbs. The same with a debtor who, by circum- 
 stances independent of liis will (hre, shipwreck, epidemics), is 
 unable to acquit himself : he is excusable ; but if he placed 
 himself in circumstances which he knew would disable him, 
 his inability is no longer an excuse. 
 
 4. ISTatural qualities or defects of mind and body cannot be 
 imputed to any one, either for good or for bad. Who would 
 reproach a man for being born blind, or because he became so 
 in consequence of sickness or a blow 1 The same with the 
 defects of the mind: no one is responsible for having no 
 memory, or for not being bright. Yet as these defects may be 
 corrected by exercise, we are more or less responsible for mak- 
 
 ■ ing no efforts to*remedy them. As to the defects or deformities 
 which result from our own fault, as, for example, the conse- 
 quences of our passions, it is evident that they can justly be 
 imputed to us. Natural qualities cannot be credited to any 
 one. Thus we should not honor people for their physical 
 strength, health, beauty, or even wit ; and no one should boast
 
 prelim:inary xotioxs. 27 
 
 of such advantages, or pride himself on them. However, he 
 who by a wise and laborious life has succeeded in preserving 
 or developing his physical strength, or who, by the effort of 
 his will, has cultivated and perfected his mind, deserves 
 praise ; and it is thus that physical and moral advantages 
 may become indirectly legitimate matter for moral appro- 
 bation. 
 
 5. The effects of extraneous causes and events, whatever 
 they may be, Avhether good or bad, can only be imputed to 
 a man, as he could or should have produced, prevented, or 
 directed them, and has been careful or neghgent in doing so. 
 Thus a farmer, according as he works the land entrusted to 
 him well or badly, is made responsible for a good or bad 
 harvest. 
 
 6. A final question is that of the responsibility of a man for 
 other people's actions. Theoretically, no man certainly is 
 responsible for any but his own actions. But human actions 
 are so interlinked Avitli each other that it is very rare that we 
 ha,ve not some share, direct or indirect, in the conduct of 
 others. For instance, one is responsible in a certain measure 
 for the conduct of those under him ; a father for his children, 
 a master for his servants, and, up to a certain point, an em- 
 ployer for his workmen ; 2, one is responsible in a measure 
 for actions which he might have prevented, when, either 
 through negligence or laziness, he did not do so ; if you see a " 
 man about to kill himself, and make no effort to prevent it, 
 you are not innocent of his death, unless, of course, j'ou did 
 not suspect what he was going to do ; 3, you are responsible 
 for other people's actions when, either by your instigations, or 
 even by a simple approbation, you have co-operated towards 
 them. 
 
 15. Moral sanction. — "We call the sanction of a law the 
 body of recompenses ami punishments attached to the execu- 
 tion or violation of the law. Civil laws, in general, make 
 more use of punishments than rewards ; for punishments may 
 appear means sufficient to have the law executed. In educa-
 
 23 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 tion, on the contrary, the commands or laws laid down by a 
 superior, have as much need of rewards as punishments. 
 
 But what is to be understood by the terms recompense and 
 punishment ? The recompense of a good and virtuous action 
 is the pleasure we derive from it, and for the very reason that 
 it is good and virtuous. 
 
 There are to be distinguished, however, two other kinds of 
 rewards, which, though they resemble recompense, are never- 
 theless very different from it namely, favor and remunera- 
 tion. 
 
 Favor is a pleasure or an advantage bestowed on us, without 
 our having deserved or earned it ; a pure expression of the 
 good-will of others towards us. It is thus that a king grants 
 favors to his courtiers, that those in power distribute favors. 
 It is thus we speak of the favors of fortune. Although 
 theoretically there is no reason why we should understand the 
 word favor in a bad sense, yet has it by usage come to signify 
 not only an advantage undeserved, but unworthy ; not only a 
 let^ntimate preference which has its reason in sympathy, but 
 an arbitrary choice more or less contrary to justice. How- 
 ever, although no such ugly signification need be attached to 
 it, a favor, as a gratuitous gift, must always be distinguished 
 from reward, which, on the contrary, implies a remuneratimi ; 
 that is to say, a gift in return for something. 
 
 Yet not all remuneration is necessarily a reward ; and here 
 we must establish another distinction between reward and re- 
 muneration. Bv remuneration we mean the price we pay for a 
 service rendered us, no matter what motive may determine a per- 
 son to render us this service ; it is for its utility we pay, and 
 for nothincr else. The reward, on the contrary, imphes the idea 
 of a certain effort to do good. He who renders us a service 
 from affection and devotion, would refuse being paid for it, 
 and, vice versa, he who sells us his work does not ask us for 
 a recompense, but for an equivalent of what he would have 
 earned for himself if he had applied his work to his own 
 wants.
 
 PKELIMIXARY NOTIOXS. 29 
 
 On the contrary, we call every pain or suffering inflicted on 
 an agent for committing a bad action, for no other reason than 
 that it is had, chastisement or pnnislnnent. 
 
 Punishment stands against damage or icrong ; that is to say, 
 against undeserved harm. The hloics of fortune or of men are 
 not always punishments. One may be struck without being 
 punished. 
 
 Although we say in a general way that the ills that befall 
 men are often the chastisements of their faults, yet this should 
 not be taken too strictly, otherwise we shoidd too easily 
 transform the merely unfortunate into criminals. 
 
 Although recompenses and pmiishments may be only 
 secondary means by Avhich men may be led to do good and 
 avoid evil, this should not be their essential office nor their 
 real idea. 
 
 It is not that the law should he fulfilled that there are re- 
 wards and punishments in morality ; it is hecatise it has been 
 fulfilled or violated. Such is the true principle of reward. 
 It comes from justice, not utility. 
 
 For tlie same reason, chastisement, in its true sense, should 
 not only be a menace insuring the execution of the law, but a 
 reparcdion or expiation for its violation. The order of things 
 disturbed by a rebellious will is again re-established by the 
 suffering which is the consequence of the fault committed. 
 In one sense it may be said that punishment is the remedy for 
 the fault. In fact, injustice and vice being, as it were, the 
 diseases of the soul, it is certain that suffering is their remedy ; 
 but only on condition that this suffering be accepted by way 
 of chastisement. It is thus that grief has a purifying virtue, 
 and that instead of being considered an evil, it may be called 
 a good. 
 
 Another confusion of ideas which should be equally avoided, 
 and which is very common among men, is that which consists 
 in taking the reward itself fur a good, and the punishment for 
 an evil. 
 
 It is thus that men are often more proud of the titles and
 
 30 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 honors they have obtained, than of the real merit through 
 which they have won them. It is thus also that they fear 
 the prison more than the crime, and shame more than vice. 
 
 It is for this reason that the greatest courage is needed to 
 bear undeserved punishment. 
 
 We distinguish generally /o2«r species of sanction : 
 1. Natural sanction; 2, legal sanction; 3, the sanction of 
 puUic opinion ; 4, inward sanction. 
 
 1. Natural sanction is that which rests on the natural con- 
 sequences of our actions. It is natural for sobriety to keep 
 up and establish health, for intemperance to be a cause of 
 disease. It is natural for work to bring with it ease of cir- 
 cumstances, for idleness to be a source of misery and poverty. 
 It is natural that probity should insure security, confidence, 
 and credit ; that courage should put off the chances of death; 
 that patience should render life more bearable ; that good-will 
 should call forth good-^viU ; that wickedness should drive men 
 from us ; that perjury should cause them to distrust us, etc. 
 These facts have ever been verified by experience. ihe 
 honest is not always the useful ; but it is often what is most 
 
 useful. . 
 
 2 Xe.7r«Z sanction is above aU a i9(^»r,Z sanction. It is com- 
 posed of the chastisements which the law has established for 
 the <^uilty. There are, in general, few rewards estabhshed by 
 the Taw, and they may be classed among what is called the 
 
 estgem of men. . . 
 
 3 Another kind of sanction consists in the opinion other 
 men entertain in regard to our actions and character. A\ e 
 have seen that it is in the nature of good actions to inspire 
 esteem, in the nature of the bad to inspire blame and contempt. 
 The honest man generally enjoys public honor and considera- 
 tion. The dishonest man, even though the law does not 
 reach him, is branded with discredit, aversion, contempt, etc. 
 
 4 Finally, a more exact and certain sanction is that whicli 
 results from the very conscience and moral sentiment men- 
 tioned above.
 
 PRELIMINARY XOTIOXS. 31 
 
 16. The superior sanction : the future life. — These 
 
 variuus sanctions being insuliicieiit to satisfy our want of 
 justice, there is required, still another, namely, the superior 
 religious sanction. 
 
 It is a well-known fact that virtue is not a sufficient shield 
 to protect us against tlie blows of adversity,' and that im- 
 morality does not necessarily condemn one to misery and grief. 
 It is evident that a man corrupt and wicked may be born with 
 all the advantages of genius, fortune, health ; and that an 
 honest man may have inherited none of these. 
 
 There is in this neither injustice nor blind chance ; but it 
 proves that the harmony between moral good and happiness 
 is not of this world. 
 
 In regard to the pleasures and pains of conscience, it is 
 also evident that they are not sufficient. In fact, the pleasures 
 of the senses may divert and deaden the pangs of remorse ; 
 and it must also be said, though it be still more sad, that it 
 sometimes happens that a merciless continuance of misfortune 
 deadens in an honest soul the delight in virtue ; and the pain- 
 ful efforts which virtue costs may finall}^ obliterate in a man, 
 tired of life, the calm and sweet enjoyment which it naturally 
 brings with it. 
 
 If such is the disproportion and disagreement between the 
 inner pleasures and pains, and the moral merit of him who 
 experiences them, what shall Ave say of that wholly outward 
 sanction Avliich consists in the rewards and punishments dis- 
 tributed by the unequal justice of man? I do not speak of 
 legal pains alone ; it is well known that they often fall upon 
 the innocent, and are spared to the guilty ; that they are 
 almost always disproportioned : the law punishing the crime, 
 without taking note of the exact moral value of the action ; 
 but I speak also of the pains and rewards of public opinion, 
 esteem, and contempt. Are these always in an exact propor- 
 tion to merit? 
 
 From all these observations it results that the law of har- 
 mony between good and happiness is not of this world ; that
 
 32 ELEMENTS OL- MORALS. 
 
 there is always disagreement, or at least disproportion, between 
 moral merit and tlie pleasures of the senses. Hence the neces- 
 sity of a superior sanction, the means and time of which are 
 in the hand of God. 
 
 " The more I go within myself," says a philosopher,* " the 
 more I consult myself, the more I read these words written- 
 in my soul : he just and thou shalt he happy. And yet it is 
 not so, looking at the actual state of things: the wicked 
 prosper, and the just are oppressed. See, also, what indigna- 
 tion arises in us when this expectation is frustrated ! The 
 conscience murmurs and rebels against its author ; it cries to 
 him, groaning : Thou hast deceived me ! I have deceived 
 thee, oh thou rash one 1 Who has told thee so 1 Is thy soul 
 annihilated ? Hast thou ceased to exist ? Oh, Brutus ! oh, my 
 son, do not stain thy noble life by putting an end to it ; do 
 not leave thy hopes and glory Avith thy body on the fields of 
 PMlippi. Why sayest thou: A^irtue is nothing when thou 
 art now about entering into the enjoyment of thine ? Thou 
 shalt die, thinkest thou ; no, thou shalt live, and it is then I 
 sli^ll keep what I have promised ! One would say, hearing 
 the murmurings of impatient mortals, that God owes them a 
 reward before they have shown any merit, and that he is 
 obliged to pay their virtue in advance. Oh ! let us first be 
 good ; we shall be happy afterwards. Do not let us claim the 
 prize before the victory, nor the salary before the work. ' It 
 is not in the lists,' says Plutarch, ' that the victors in our 
 sacred games are crowned; it is after they have run the 
 
 course.' " 
 
 * J. J. Rousseau, EmiU,
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 DIYISIOK OF DUTIES— GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL 
 
 MORALITY. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 Division of duties. — In theory there is but one duty, which is to do 
 right ; but this duty is subdivided according to the various relations 
 of man. Hence three classes of duties : duties towards ourselves, 
 towards others, towards God : individual, social, religious morality. 
 We will begin with social morality, which requires the most ex- 
 pounding. 
 
 General principles of social duties : to do good ; not to do evil. 
 
 Different degrees of this double obligation: 1, not to return evil 
 for good (ingratitude) ; 2, not to do &\\\ to those who have not done 
 us any (injustice and cnielly) ; 3, not to return evil for evil (revenge) ; 
 4, to return good for good (gralitude) ; 5, to do good to those who 
 have not done us any (cliarity) ; 6, to return good for evil (dcinoicy, 
 generosity). 
 
 Distinction between the various kinds of social duties : 1, to- 
 wards the lives of other men ; 2, towards their property ; 3, towards 
 their faynily ; 4, towards their ho7ior ; 5, towards their liberty. 
 
 Distinction between the duties of justice and the duties of charity. 
 — Justice is absolute, without restriction, without exception. Charity, 
 although as obligatory as justice, is more independent in its applica- 
 tion. It chooses its time and place ; its objects and means j its beauty 
 is in its liberty. 
 
 We have seen that practical morality or private morality 
 has for its object to acquaint us with the ajtiilication of tlieo- 
 retical morality. It bears not so much on duty as on duties. 
 The fir^ question, then, that presents itself to us is that of 
 the division of duties.
 
 34 ELEMENTS OF MOEAI.S. 
 
 17. Division of duties. — It lias been reasonaLly asserted 
 that there is in reality but one duty, which is to do good 
 under all circumstances, the same as it has also been said that 
 there is but one virtue : wisdom, or obedience to the laws of 
 reason. But as these two general divisions teach us in reahty 
 nothing toucliing our various actions, which are very numer- 
 ous, it is useful and necessary to classify the principal circum- 
 stances in which we have to act, in order to specify in a more 
 particular manner wherein the general principle which com- 
 mands us to do good may be applied in eacb case. 
 
 Human actions may then be divided, either in regard to the 
 different beings they have for their object, or in regard to the 
 various faculties to which they relate. 
 
 The ancients divided morality particularly in reference to 
 the divers human faculties, and in private morality they con- 
 sidered above all the virtues. 
 
 The moderns, on the other hand, have divided morahty 
 particularly in its relatiT)ns to the different objects of our 
 actions ; and, in private morality, they have considered, above 
 
 all, the duties. 
 
 The ancients reduced all virtues to four principal ones : 
 prudence, temperance, courage, andjmtice. This division was 
 transmitted to us, and it is these four virtues which the 
 catechism teaches under the name of cardinal virtues. 
 
 The moderns reduced duties to three classes : the duties 
 towards ourselves, towards others, and towards God. Some 
 add a fourth plass, namely, duties towards animals. 
 
 That portion of morahty which treats of the duties towards 
 ourselves, is called individual morality ; that Avhich treats of 
 the duties towards God, is cahed religious morality; that 
 which treats of the duties towards other men, social morality. 
 As to the duties towards animals, they are of so secondary an 
 order, that it is not worth while to classify them apart ; we 
 shall include them in social morality. 
 
 Social morality is by far the most extended in precepts and 
 applications, the various relations of men with each other
 
 GEIfEEAL PRIifCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 35 
 
 being extremely numerous. It may be subdivided into three 
 parts: 1, general duties of social life, or morality j^rojjer??/ 
 called social ; 2, duties towards the State, or civil morality ; 
 3, duties towards the family, or domestic morality. 
 
 We will begin with the study of social morality, .social 
 duties towards men in general, and we will first establish 
 their principles and different varieties. 
 
 Let us in a few pages rapidly take a summary review of 
 the general principles of social morality. 
 
 18. General principles of social duties : to do good, not 
 to do evil. — Ail human actions, in regard to others, may be 
 reduced to these two precepts : 1, to do good to men ; 2, not 
 to do them harm. To this all the virtues of social morality 
 may be reduced. But before exhibiting these virtues and 
 vices more in detail, let us explain what is understood by the 
 expressions to do good and to do evil. 
 
 In the most general and apparent sense to do any one good 
 "would seem to be to give Jdm pleasure; to do him harm, would 
 seem to be to give Mm pain. Yet, is it always doing good to a 
 person to procure him pleasure ? and is it always doing him 
 harm, to cause him pain 1 For example, Kant* says, " Shall we 
 aUow the idler soft cushions ; the drunkard wines in abund- 
 ance ; the rogue an agreeable face and manners, to deceive more 
 easily; the violent man audacity and a good fist?" Would 
 it really be doing good to these men to grant them the object 
 of their desires, what may satisfy their passions'? On the 
 other hand, the surgeon who amputates a mortified limb, the 
 dentist who pulls out a bad tooth, the teaclier Avho obliges 
 you to learn, the father who corrects your faults or restmins 
 your passions, do they really do you harm because they give 
 you pain? No, certainly not. There are, then, cases where 
 to do some one good is to cause liim pain, and to do him harm 
 is to procure him pleasure. 
 
 One may reasonably reduce all principles of social morality 
 to these two maxims of the gospel : " Do not do to others what 
 
 * Kant, Doctriiis de la vertu. Frent li translation of J. Barni, p. 171. 
 
 ..bT£ FORMAL SCHOOL. 
 
 l_OS AN ^. -:- cal.
 
 36 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 you do not wish them do to you;"— "Do to others as you 
 wish to be done by." These two maxims are admirable, cer- 
 tainly ; but they must be interpreted rightly. If, for instance, 
 we have done wrong, do we generally wish to be corrected 
 and punished ? When we are yielding to a passion, do we 
 wish to be repressed in it, have it repelled ? On the contrary, 
 do we not rather wish to be allowed to enjoy it, and have the 
 free range of our vices ? Is not this generally what we all 
 wish, when the voice of duty is mute and does not silence 
 our passionate feelings? If this is so, should we \Yish to do 
 to others as we wish in similar circumstances, namely, in the 
 gratification of passions, to be done by? Should we not rather 
 do to them what we should not like them do to us, that is, 
 punish and correct them ? It is evidently not in that sense 
 we are to understand the two evangelical maxims ; for they 
 would be then no other than maxims of remissness and im- 
 proper kindness ; whilst they, on the contrary, express most 
 admirably a moral truth ; only when they speak of what we 
 wish, they mean a true and good wish, not the desires of pas- 
 sion; the same when we recommend men to do good, we mean 
 real good and not apparent good; as also in recommending to 
 do no harm, we mean real harm, not the illusory harm of the 
 senses, imagination and passions. 
 
 Thus, to weU understand the duties we have to fulfil towards 
 other men, we must understand the distinction between true 
 good and false good. False good is that which consists 
 exclusively in pleasure, all abstraction being made of useful- 
 ness or moral value; as, for example, the pleasures of pas- 
 sions. True good is that which independently of pleasure 
 recommends itself either through usefulness or through 
 moral value ; as, for instance, health or education. The real 
 evils, of course, are those which injure either the interests of 
 others or their moral dignity, such as misery or corruption. 
 Apparent evils are those which cause us to suff-er but a mo- 
 ment and redeem themselves by subsequent advantages : as, 
 for instance, remedies or chastisements.
 
 GENEEAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 3 
 
 •^ 
 
 AYlieu we speak of good in regard to others, we should not 
 fear to understand by that their interest, as well as their moral 
 welfare; for, though we should not make our own interest 
 the aim of our actions, it is not so in our relation with others. 
 The seeking of our own happiness has no moral value; but 
 the seeking of other people's happiness may have one, pro- 
 vided, we repeat, that we do not deceive ourselves touching 
 the real sense of the word happiness, and that we do not un- 
 derstand by it a deceitful and short-lived delight. 
 
 " To do to others as vie wish to be done by ; not to do to 
 them what we do not ivish they should do us," should, there- 
 fore, be understood in the sense of an enlightened will, which 
 wills for itself nothing but what is truly conformable either 
 to a proper interest or to virtue. Thus understood (and it is 
 their true sense*), these two maxims comprehend perfectly 
 the whole of social morality. 
 
 19. Different degrees of this double obligation. — The 
 sense of these two expressions, to do good and to do harm, 
 being now well-defined, let us examine the various cases wluch 
 may present themselves, in rising, so to say, from the lowest 
 to the highest round of duty. Let us first suppose a certain 
 good or a certain evil, which will not vary in any of the fol- 
 lowing cases: this is the scale one may observe starting from 
 the least virtue, to which corresponds evidentl}' the greatest 
 vice (by virtue of the principle set forth abovef), to rise to 
 the highest virtue, to which the least vice corresponds. 
 
 1. Not to return evil for good. — This is, one may say (all 
 things being equal), the feeblest of the virtues, as to return 
 evil for good constitutes the greatest of wrongs. Say, for 
 example, homicide : is it not evident that the murder of a 
 benefactor is the most abominable of all 1 that to rob a bene- 
 factor is the most horrible of robberies 1 that the slander of a 
 l)enefactor is the most criminal of slanders 1 On the other 
 
 * Kant is wrong in rejecting these two maxims, interpreting them in the seu30 
 t e have just refuted. 
 
 \ Chapter I., page 22.
 
 38 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 hand again, not to kill, not to steal, not to slander, not to 
 deceive a benefactor, is the niininuim of moral virtue. To 
 abstain from doing harm to him who has done you good, is a 
 wholly negative virtue, which is simply the absence of a 
 crime. We cannot call that gratitude, for gratitude is a posi- 
 tive virtue, not a negative one ; it is all in action, and not m 
 omission; but, befoi-e being grateful, the first condition at 
 least, is to be not ungrateful. We shall then say that the 
 greatest of crimes is ingratitude. It is by reason of this prin- 
 ciple that the crimes towards parents are the most odious of 
 all ; for we have no greater benefactors than our parents, and 
 without mentioning the crimes nature finds repugnant enough, 
 it is evident that^ the same kind of harm (wounds, blows, 
 insults, negligence, etc.) will always be more blamable Avhen 
 done to parents than to any other benefactors, and to bene- 
 factors in general, than to any other men. 
 
 2. Not to do harm to those who have not done nsany.—Ti\G 
 violation of this maxim is the second degree of crime and of sin, 
 somewhat less serious than the preceding one, but still odious 
 enough that to abstain from it is, in many cases, a rather 
 feeble virtue. Not to kill, not to steal, not to deceive, not to 
 expose one's self to the punishments of the law, are, indeed, 
 of a very feeble moral value ; whilst their contraries constitute 
 the basest and most odious of actions. 
 
 The kind of vice which injures others without provocation 
 is what is called injustice, and when the pleasure of doing 
 wrong is joined thereto, it is called cruelty. Cruelty is an 
 injustice which rejoices in the harm done to others ; injustice 
 contents itself with taking advantage of it. There is, there- 
 fore, a higher degree of evil in cruelty than in injustice pure 
 
 and simple. 
 
 The virtue opposed to injustice is justice, which has two 
 degrees and two forms: the one negative, which consists 
 simply in abstaining from (koixig injury to any one ; the second 
 positive, which consists in rendering to each his due. This 
 second form of justice is more difficult than the first, for it is
 
 GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 39 
 
 active. It is more diffici>lt to restore to others what we hold 
 as our own, or to pay one's debts, than to abstain from stealing; 
 it is more difficult to speak well of one's rivals, than to abstain 
 from slandering them ; it is more difficult to give up one's 
 position to another who deserves it, than to abstain from tak- 
 ing his ; and yet there are cases where justice requires one 
 should act instead of simply abstaining. 
 
 3. Not to return evil for evil. — Here we rise, in some 
 respect, a degree in the moral scale. The two inferior degrees, 
 namely, ingratitude and cruelty, have always and everywhere 
 been considered as crimes. Nowhere has it ever been con- 
 sidered allowable to do harm to those Avho have done i;s good. 
 But in nearly all societies, at a certain degree of civilization, 
 has it been considered allowable, and even praiseworthy, to 
 return evil for evil. "To do good to our friends, and harm 
 to our enemies," is one of the maxims the poets and sages of 
 Greece oftenest repeat. Among the Indians of America, glory 
 consists in ornamenting one's dwelling with the greatest 
 possible number of scalps taken from conquered enemies. We 
 know about the Corsican vendetta. In one word, the passion 
 of revenge (which consists precisely in returning evil for evil) 
 is one of the most natural and the most profound in the human 
 heart, and it demands a very advanced moral education to 
 comprehend that revenge is contrary to the* laws of morality. 
 Now, as the beauty of virtue is in proportion to the difficdty 
 of the passions to be overcome, it is evident that the virtu'^s 
 contrary to revenge, namely : gentleness, clemency, pardon of 
 injuries, are amongst the most beautiful and most sublime. 
 Already among the ancients had morality reached this maxim, 
 that one should not do any harm, namely, even to those who 
 had done us some, as may be seen from the dialogue of Plato, 
 entitled the Crito. " Socrates : One should then commit 
 no injustice whatsoever?" '^ Crito : No, certainly not." 
 
 ('> Socrcdes : Then should one not be unjust even towards those 
 who are unjust towards us." 
 -^ 4. Thus far we have only spoken of the virtues whiih ex-
 
 40 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 press themselves negatively, and Avhich consist especially in 
 doin" no harm. Let us now consider those which express 
 themselves affirmatively, and which consist in doing good. The 
 first degree is to return good for good : which is gratitude, 
 the contrary of which, as we have seen, is ingratitude ; but 
 there are two sorts of ingratitude, as there are two sorts of 
 gratitude. There is a negative ingratitude, as there is a posi- 
 tive ingratitude. The positive ingratitude, which is, as we 
 have seen, the most odious of all crimes, consists in returning 
 evil for good ; negative ingratitude consists simply in not 
 returning good for good, namely, in forgetting a kindness. 
 It is not so reprehensible as the former, but it has still a certain 
 character of baseness. Gratitude is also twofold in its degrees 
 and forms : it is negative, inasmuch as it abstains from iiijuring 
 a benefactor;* it is positive, inasmuch as it returns good fo)- 
 good. In one sense, gratitude is a part of justice, for it con- 
 sists in returning to a benefactor what is due him ; but it is 
 also a notable part, and one which deserves being pointed out, 
 for it seems that there is nothing easier than to return good 
 for good; and experience, on the contrary, teaches us that there 
 is nothing more rare. [This is certainly too strongly put.] 
 
 5. To do good to those who have done us neither good nor 
 harm. This is what is called charity, which is a degree above the 
 preceding, for in the preceding case we scarcely do more than 
 give back what we have received ; iii this case we put in 
 something of our own. But to characterize this new degree 
 of virtue, it is necessary to well explain that the question 
 relates to a good that is not diie. For justice, we have seen, 
 does not always mean to abstain from evil ; it even does good 
 
 * It would seem here that negative gratitude becomes confounded with negative 
 ingratitude ; the one doing no liarm, the other doing no good ; it wouUl seem as one 
 and the same condition, wherein neither harm nor good is done ; but the distinction 
 exists nevertheless ; for the question, on the one hand, is to do no harm when 
 tempted to do some, and on the other, not to do any good when there is an occasion 
 for it. For example, he who despoils others, but abstains before his benefactor, 
 experiences a certain degree of gratitude, and he who does good to his friends and 
 flatterers around him, and does not do any to his benefactor, is already ungrateful.
 
 GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF eOCiAL MORALITY. 41 
 
 sometimes. To restore a trust to one not expecting it ; to do 
 good to him wlio deserves it ; to elect to a position one 
 worthy of it ; or, what is still more heroic, to give one's own 
 position up to him, this evidently is doing good to others, and 
 to those who have not done us any ; but these are goods diie, 
 Avhich already belong in some respects to those upon whom 
 we confer them. It is not so with the goods which charity 
 distributes. The gifts I make to the poor, the consolations I 
 give to the afflicted, the care I bestow upon the sick, all of 
 which take from my time, my interests, and my life Avhich I 
 endanger to save a fellow-being, are also goods which are m}^ 
 own and not his. I do not return to him what he would 
 otherwise legitimately possess, Avhether he knows it or not. I 
 give him something of ray own ; it is a pure gift. This gift is 
 suggested to me by love, not by justice. The contrary of 
 charity or devotion to others is selfishness. 
 
 Finally, there is a last degree above all other preceding 
 degrees, namely, to return good for evil. This kind of A'irtue, 
 the highest of all, has no particiilar name in the language. 
 Charity, in fact, consists in doing good generally, and com- 
 prises the two degrees : to do good to the unfortunate, and 
 return good for evil. Clemency may consist in simply par- 
 doning ; it does not necessarily go so far as to return good for 
 evil. 
 
 Corneille might as well have called his tragedy of Cinna, 
 the Clemency of Augustus, even if Augustus had merely 
 pardoned Cinna, and not added : " Let us be friends!" Thus 
 has this great and magnificent virtue no name, and as science 
 is powerless in creating words suitable for every-day language, 
 it must rest satisfied with periphrases. Nevertheless, this 
 sublime virtue finds nowhere a grander expression than in 
 those maxims of the Gospel : " You have been told that it 
 was said : Thou shalt love thy neighbor and hate thy enemy : 
 But I say to you : Love your enemies ; do good to those that 
 hate you, and pray for those that despitefuUy use you and 
 persecute you."
 
 42 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 90 Different kinds of social duties— After the preceding 
 div*ision, which answers to the different degrees of obhgation 
 which may exist among men, there is anotlier classification 
 which rests on the various species or kinds of duties which we 
 may have to perform towards our fellow-beings. Let us first 
 briefly state Avhat AviU l^e developed at greater length m the 
 
 following chapters. t ^ .1 
 
 1 Mies reletting to the life of of /^.rs. -According to the 
 two maxims cited above, these duties are of two kinds : 
 1 not to attempt the life of others ; 2, to make efforts to 
 save the life of others. All attempt at the life of others is 
 called homicide. When accompanied by perfidy or treason, 
 it is assassination. The murder of parents by _ children is 
 called parricide ; of children by parents (especially at the 
 tenderest age), hfcmtidde; of brothers by brothers, /raim-^i.. 
 All these crimes are most odious, and most repugnant to the 
 human heart. Murder is never permitted, even when the 
 hio-hest interest and the greatest good is at stake. Thus did 
 the ancients err in believing that the murder of a tyrant, or 
 tyrcmnidde, was not only legitimate, but also honorab e and 
 beautiful. However, there is to be excepted the case of Ze^zf ^ 
 ,«af...Z/V?.f.n.«;forwe cannot beforbiddentodefendourselves 
 
 against him who wishes to deprive us of life. But the ^el 
 should not be considered an act of legitimate self-defense : that 
 is evident in the case of the aggressor; and, on the other side, 
 there is only the defense that there has been the consent to be 
 put in peril. As to the question whether an attack on honor 
 L not equivalent to an attack on life, it cannot be said that it 
 is false in all cases ; but the abuse of the thing is here so near 
 the principle, that it is wiser to condemn altogether a barbar- 
 ous practice, of which so deplorable an abuse has been made 
 Finally, homicide in war, .'ithin the conditions authorized 
 by international law, is considered a case of legitimate self- 
 defense.* 
 
 * These questions will be examined more in detail in the next chapter.
 
 GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 43 
 
 If murder is the most criminal of actions, and the most 
 revolting to our sensibilities, the action, on the contrary, Avhich 
 consists in saving the life of others is the most beautiful of alL 
 • The good shepherd gives his life for the sheep." 
 
 With the fundamental duty not to attempt the life of other 
 men, is connected, as corollary, the duty not to injure them 
 bodily by blows or wounds, or by dangerous violence done to 
 their health, and, conversely, to assist them in illness. 
 
 2. Duties relating to property. — It is evident* that man 
 cannot preserve his life and render it happy and comfortable 
 without a certain number of material objects which are his. 
 The legitimate possession of these goods is what is called 
 property.] The right of property rests in one respect on so- 
 cial utility, and in the other on human labor. On the one 
 hand, society cannot subsist without a certain order that 
 settles for each what is his own ; on the other, it is but right 
 that each should be the proprietor of what he has earned by 
 his work ; the right of possession carries with it the right of 
 economizing, and, consequently, the right of forming a capital, 
 and, moreover, the right of using this capital in making it 
 bear interest. Again, the right of preserving implies also the 
 right of trans7nissron ; hence the legitimacy of inheritance. 
 
 Property once founded upon law, it becomes our duty not 
 to transgress the law. The act of taking what belongs to an- 
 other is called theft. Theft is absolutely forbidden by the 
 moral law, Avhatever name it may assume, or under whatever 
 prestige it may present itself. " Thou shalt not steal." Theft 
 does not consist merely in putting one's hand into a neigh- 
 bor's pocket ; it includes all possible ways whereby the prop- 
 erty of others may be appropriated. For example, to defraud 
 in regard to the quality of the thing sold ; to practice illegal 
 stock-jobbing ; to convert to one's own use a deposit entrusted 
 
 ♦ See chapter IV. 
 
 \ Lawyers make a distinction Iretween possession and property. The first consists 
 simply in having the object in use ; the second, in enjoying its exclusive use, even 
 if the object were not naturally in one's hands. 
 
 /"
 
 44 ELEMENTS OE MORALS. 
 
 to one's care; to borrow without knowing whether one 
 can pay, and after having borrowed, to disown the debt, or 
 refuse to pay it ; there are as many forms of theft as there 
 are ways of appropriating the property of others. 
 
 Kegarding the property of others, the negative duty then 
 consis^ts in not taking what belongs to others. The positive 
 duty consists in assisting others with one's own property, m 
 reheving their misery. This is called benevolence, which be- 
 nevolence may be exercised in various Avays, either by ^^(/^, or 
 by loan. It may also be exercised in Miid, that is in giving to 
 others the objects necessary to their maintenance or support, or 
 in money, that is, in furnishing them the means of procuring 
 them ; or in work, which is the best of all gifts ; for in thus 
 relieving others we procure them the means of helping them- 
 selves. 
 
 With the duty relating to the property of others, are con- 
 nected as corollaries, the duties relating to the observance of 
 agreements or contracts ; the transmission of property in so- 
 dety being not always done from hand to hand, but by means 
 of promises and writings. To fail in keeping one's promise, 
 to pervert the sense of solemn contracts, is, on the one side, 
 to appropriate other people's property, and on the other, to lie 
 and deceive, and thus to fail in a double duty. 
 
 3. Duties relating to the families of others.— ^\e have seen 
 above what are the duties of man in his family ; there re- 
 mains to be said a few words touching the duties towards the 
 families of others. One may fail in these duties either by 
 violating the conjugal bond, which is adultery; or by carry- 
 ing off other people's children, which is abduction, or by de- 
 praving them through bad advice or bad examples, which is 
 
 corruption. . 
 
 4. Duties relating to the hmor of others.— One may fail m 
 these duties, either by saying to a man (who does not deserve 
 it), wounding and rude things to his face, which are irisulis, 
 or 'in speaking ill of others; and here we distinguish two de- 
 grees : if what is said is tme, it is backbiting ; if what is said
 
 GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 45 
 
 is false and an invention, it is slander. In general one must 
 not too easily ascribe evil to other men ; this kind of defect 
 is what is called rash judgments. 
 
 The 2^ositive duty respecting other people's reputation is to 
 be just towards every one, even towards one's enemies ; to 
 speak well of them if they deserve it, and even of those -who 
 speak ill of us. It is a duty to entertain a kindly disposition 
 towards men in general, provided this does not go so far as to 
 wink at wrong. In our relations with our neighbors, usage 
 of the world has, in order to avoid quarrels and insults, in- 
 troduced what is called jpoliteness, which, for being a worldly 
 virtue, is not the less a necessary virtue in tlie order of 
 society. 
 
 5. Duties towards the liberty of others. — These are rather 
 the duties of the State than of the individual. They consist 
 in respecting in others the liberty of conscience, the liberty 
 of labor, individual liberty, personal responsibility, all of 
 Avhich are the natural rights of man. However, private indi- 
 viduals may themselves also fail in this kind of duties. The 
 violation of the liberty of conscience is called intolerance ; it 
 consists either in employing force to constrain the consciences, 
 or in imputing bad morals or bad motives to those who do not 
 think as we do. The virtue opposed to intolerance is toler- 
 ance, a disposition of the soul which consists, not in approv- 
 ing what we think false, but in respecting in others what we 
 wish they should respect in us, namely, conscience. One may 
 also violate individual liberty, the liberty of labor, in keeping 
 one's fellow-beings in slavery ; but slavery is rather a social 
 institution than an individual act. However, there may be 
 cases where one may seek to injure other people's work, in 
 restraining others by threats from work ; which, for example, 
 takes sometimes place in workmen's strikes. There is also a 
 certain way of domineering over the freedom of others with- 
 out restraining it materially, which constitutes real tyranny ; 
 it is the dominion which a strong will exercises over a feeble 
 will, and of which it too often is tempted to take advantage.
 
 4G ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 On tlie contrary, it is a duty, not only to respect the liberty 
 of others, but also to encourage it, to develop it, to enlighten 
 it through education. 
 
 6 Didies relating to friendsUp.-kW the preceding duties 
 are the same towards all men. There are others which con- 
 cern more particularly certain men, those, for example, to 
 whom we are attached either by congeniality of disposition or 
 uniformity of occupation, or a common education, etc., those, 
 namely, whom we call friends. The duties relating to friend- 
 ship are- 1, to choose well one's friends; to choose the 
 l«)nest, and enlightened, in order to find in their society en- 
 cx)uragement to right-doing. Nothing more dangerous than 
 pleasure-friends or interested friends, united by vices and pas- 
 sions, instead of being united by wisdom and virtue ; ., the 
 friends once chosen, the reciprocal duty is fidelity. _ Ihey 
 should treat each other with perfect equality and with confi- 
 dence They owe each other secrecy when they mutually 
 entrust their dearest interests ; they owe each other self-devo- 
 tion when they need each other's help. Finally, they owe to 
 each other in a more strict and rigorous a sense, all they gen- 
 erally owe to other men, for the faults or crimes against hu- 
 manity in general assume a still more odious character when 
 
 against friends. 
 
 2i Professional duties and civic duties.-feuch are the 
 
 genei"al duties of men in relation to each other, whe_n simply 
 viewed as men. But these duties become diversified and 
 specialized according as we view man either m the light ot 
 the private functions he fills in society, which are his profes- 
 sional duties, or in the light of the particular society of which 
 he is a n>ember, and which is called the Stcde or the country, 
 and these are the cvvic duties. (See chapters xii. and xiil) 
 
 22 Distinction between the duties of justice and the 
 duties of charity.-We have said above that all the social 
 duties could be reduced to these two maxims: "Do not do 
 unto others what you do not wish they should do to you. Do 
 to others as you wish to be done by." These two maxims
 
 GENERAL PRINCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 47 
 
 correspond with what is called : 1, the duties of justice ; 2, 
 the duties of charity. 
 
 The hrst consists in not doing wrong, or at least in repair- 
 ing the wrong already done. Charity consists in doing good, 
 or at least in giving to others what is not really their due. 
 X celebrated writer* has made a very subtle and forcible dis- 
 tinction between these two virtues : 
 
 " The respect for tlie rights of others is called justice. All 
 violation of any right whatsoever is an injustice. The greatest 
 of injustices, since it comprises all, is slavery. Slavery is the 
 subjugation of all the faculties of a man for the benefit of an- 
 other. Moral personality should be respected in you as well 
 as in me, and for the same reason. In regard to myself it 
 has imposed a duty on me ; in you it becomes the foundation 
 of a right, and imposes thereby, relatively to you, a new duty 
 on me. I owe you the truth as I owe it to myself, and it is 
 my strict duty to respect the development of your intelligence 
 and not arrest its progress towards the truth. I must also 
 respect your liberty ; perhaps even I owe it to you more than 
 I do to myself, for I have not always the right to prevent you 
 from making a mistake. 
 
 " I must respect you in your affections, which are a part of 
 yourself ; and of all the affections none are more holy than 
 those of the family. To violate the conjugal and paternal 
 right is to violate what a person holds most sacred. 
 
 " I owe respect to your body, inasmuch as belonging to 
 you, it is the instrument of your personality. I have neitlicr 
 the right to kill you nor to wound you, unless in self-de- 
 fense. 
 
 " I owe respect to your property, for it is the product of 
 your labor ; I owe respect to your labor, which is your very 
 liberty in action ; and if your property comes from inherit- 
 ance, I owe respect to the free ■will which has transmitted it 
 to you. 
 
 * Victor Cousin, The. True, the Beautiful, and the Good (lectures xxi. and xxil.).
 
 48 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 Justice, that is, the respect for the person in all that con- 
 stitutes his personality, is the first duty of man towards his 
 fellow-man. Is this duty the only one ? 
 
 " When we have respected the person of others, when we 
 have neither put a restraint upon their liberty, nor smothered 
 their intelligence, nor maltreated their body, nor interfered 
 with their family rights nor their property, can we say that 
 we have fulfilled towards them all moral duties ? A wretch 
 is here suffering before us. Is our conscience satisfied if We 
 can assure ourselves that we have not contributed to his suf- 
 ferings 1 No ; something tells us that it would be well if we 
 should give him bread, help, consolation ; and yet this man 
 in pain, who, perhaps, is going to die, has not the least right 
 to the least part of our fortune, were this fortune ever so 
 o-reat ; and if he were to use violence to take a farthing from 
 us, he would connnit a crime. We shall meet here a new 
 order of duties which do not correspond to rights. Man, we 
 have seen, may resort to force to have his rights respected, 
 but he cannot impose on another a sacrifice, whatever that 
 may be. Justice respects or restores : charity gives. 
 
 " One cannot say that to be charitable is not obligatory ; 
 but this obligation is by no means as precise and as inflexible 
 as justice. Charity implies sacrifice. Now, who will furnish 
 the rule for sacrifice, the formula for self-renunciation ? For 
 justice, the formula is clear : to respect the rights of others. 
 But charity knows neither rule nor limits. It is above all 
 obligation. Its beauty is precisely in its liberty." 
 
 It follows from these considerations that justice is absolute, 
 without restriction, without exception. Charity, whilst it is 
 as obligatory as justice, is more independent in its applica- 
 tions ; it chooses its place and its time, considers its objects 
 and means. In a word, as Victor Cousin says, " its beauty is 
 in its liberty." 
 
 Let us not hesitate to borrow from the Apostle Rt. Paul his 
 admirable exaltation of charity : 
 
 " Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and
 
 GENERAL PRIKCIPLES OF SOCIAL MORALITY. 49 
 
 have not charity, I am become as sounding brass or a tinkling 
 cymbal." 
 
 " And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand 
 all mysteries, and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, 
 so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am 
 nothing."* 
 
 " And though I bestowed all my goods to feed the poor, and 
 though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, 
 it profiteth me mothing." 
 
 " Charity suffereth long, and is kind ; charity envieth not; 
 charity vaunteth not itself; is not puffed i:p." 
 
 " Doth not behave itself unseemelj^ ; seeketh not her o-wn ; 
 is not easily provoked; thinketh no evik" 
 
 " Beareth all things ; belie veth all things ; endure th all 
 things."! 
 
 * Which is to say that the acts are nothing if the heart is absent, 
 ■J St. Paul, 1 Cor., xiii., 1-7.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DUTIES OF JUSTICE — DUTIES TOWAKDS HUMAN LIFE. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 Division of the duties of Justice. — Four kinds of duties : 1, towards 
 the life of others ; 2, towards the liberty of others ; 3, towards the 
 honor of others ; 4, towards the property of others. 
 
 Duties towards human life. — Avoid homicide, acts of violence, and 
 mutilation. Pascal and the Proviiiciales. 
 
 The right of self-defense. — Right to oj^pose force to force. Limits 
 of this right. 
 
 Problems. — Four very grave problems are bound up in the question 
 of self-defense : 1, the penalty of death ; 2, political assassination ; 
 3, the duel ; 4, war. 
 
 The penalty of death. — The penalty of death is the right of self- 
 defense exercised by society : it is just so far as it is efficacious. 
 
 Political assassination. — Murder is always a crime, under whatever 
 pretext it may conceal itself 
 
 The duel. — The duel is at the same time a homicide and a suicide; it is 
 falsely considered justice, since it appeals to chance and skill. 
 
 War.— War is the only mode of self-defense existing among nations ; 
 it is desirable for the sake of humanity that it may some day disap- 
 j)ear ; but humanity cannot now exact this sacrifice of the country. 
 
 23. Division of social duties.— According to the fore- 
 going distinctions, we will first divide duties into duties of 
 justice anel duties of charity. 
 
 Let us begin by expounding the duties of justice. 
 
 These duties may be summed up in a general manner in 
 the respect fur the person of others, and for all that is necessary
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAN LIFE. 51 
 
 for the preservation and development of that person. Hence 
 four kinds of duties : 
 
 1. Towards the life of other men. 
 
 2. Towards their liberty. 
 
 3. Towards their honor. 
 
 4. Towards their property. 
 
 Besides these duties, purely negative, which consist only in 
 doing others no harm, there are also the duties of justice, 
 which may be called positive ; and which consist not only in 
 not injuring others, but also in granting each what he has a 
 right to. This is called distributive or remunerative justice, 
 and is the duty of all those who have others under them, and 
 who are commissioned to distribute rewards, titles, or functions, 
 
 24. Duties towards the life of men. — We have seen above 
 that self-preservation is the duty of every one, and that one 
 should not attempt one's own life, nor mutilate one's self, nor 
 injure one's health. Now, all these obligations which we 
 have towards ourselves, we have equally towards others ; for 
 that which each owes to himself, he owes it to his quality, as 
 ma7i, to his quality as a free and reasonable being, a moral 
 person. It is, as Kant says, humanity itself that each one 
 must respect in his own person ; and it is also humanity which 
 each must respect in others. We should not do to others 
 Avhat we do not wish that they should do to us, or wliat Ave 
 should not wish to do to ourselves. Now, no one wishes others 
 to attempt his life ; no one should wish to attempt it himself. 
 For the same reason he should not wish to attempt the life of 
 others. 
 
 These are such self-evident considerations that it is useless 
 to insist on them. Let us add that this duty rests, besides, 
 on one of the most powerful instincts of humanity, the instinct 
 of sympathy for other men, the horror of their sufferings, the 
 horror of spilt blood. Those who are wanting in this senti- 
 ment are like monsters in the midst of humanity. 
 
 One of the corollaries of this principle is to avoid the blows 
 and wounds which might, througli imprudence and unex-
 
 g2 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 pectedly, cause death, and .vhich, besides, are in themselves 
 be coidemned, inasmuch as they contribute, xf not towards 
 destroying, at least towards mutilating, the person and render- 
 ina it "unfitted to fulfil its duties and functions. In a word, 
 to^avoid scuffles, bodily quarrels, which ^^^^^'''^^''^^ 
 over, from their very brutality, of a reasonable being; all this 
 is comprised in the duty of avoiding homicide. AU may be 
 summed up m these words of the Decalogue : fhou sMU 
 
 " ptscai, in his letter on homicide (xiv. Pro..V.c/aZ.), expressed 
 xnost eloquently the duty concerning the respect for human 
 life: 
 
 „e„ess.,.3. to e.„b,i,.. pjb.ic f„„ct,« u^-el^ ' J , ttrpu^Hc 
 
 crimes, now wu j i important ; they would 
 
 5 S^>" all »m or people ; but only to tl.at of f[l«^^^ 
 
 i„te«,ity ana sufficiency ha,e l.en --'- ^tht No " I - -«' 
 «„<. -.Innp is enoueli to condemn a man to tieatu . x^kj, 
 
 pronounce upon him only according to law, or judge woithy of de.th 
 only those whom the law condemns. 
 
 After having thus expounded the innumerable precautions 
 with society Iras taken,'out of respect for human life, touching 
 the persons of criminals, Pascal continues as follows : 
 
 .. Behold in what way, in the order of justice, the life of man is dis-
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAN LIFE. 53 
 
 posed of; let us see now how yon dispose of it* In your new laws 
 there is but one judge, and this judge is the offended party. Hals at 
 the same time judge, accuser, and executioner. He seeks himself the 
 death of his enemy ; he commands it, he executes him on the spot ; and, 
 without respect for either the body or soul of his brother, he kills and 
 damns him for whom Christ died ; and all this to avenge an affront, 
 or slander, or an insulting word, or other similar offences for which a 
 judge, although clothed with legal authority, would be considered a 
 criminal if he should condemn to death those wdio had committed 
 them, because the laws themselves are very far from condemning them. " 
 
 Finally, gathering into one Avord all the evils Avhich homi- 
 cide comprises, Pascal ends by saying " homicide is the only 
 crime which at the same time destroys the State, the Church, 
 nature, and piety." 
 
 25. The right of self-defense. — Xone of the foregoing 
 principles would present the shadow of a difficulty to any 
 except those who are nearer the brute than man, if it were 
 not for an apparent exception to the rule, which is the case 
 of legitimate self -defense. To understand properly the solu- 
 tion of this question, it is necessary to examine carefully 
 the nature of the relations which Ijintl men to each other. 
 
 Every man is a moral person; that is to say, a free 
 being, and for that very reason inviolable in his dignity 
 and in his rights. He is, as Kant says, an end to him- 
 self, and should not be treated as a means. The things of 
 nature are to us but means to satisfy our wants ; Ave may 
 therefore mutilate and destroy them, not as our whims may 
 dictate, but as our wants require. Thus can we cut the finest 
 trees of a forest to make fire of, or for furniture. We even 
 claim a similar right over animals, although it may, perhaps, 
 not be so evident. But we have no such right over man. 
 We can neither mutilate nor destroy him for our use. 
 
 And, in fact, to d(?stroy or mutilate through sheer force a 
 member of humanity, is to apply to him the law of compulsion, 
 which is the laAV of physical nature, and which without reserve 
 
 * In the Frovinciales this apostrophe is addressed to tlie Jesuits, whom Pascal 
 .^eeuses of loose iiiaxiins on the subject.
 
 54 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 croverns all physical phenomena : it is to make of man a thing 
 If nature, to see in him the body only, and ignore the soul 
 
 The consequence of such conduct is evident : it is that 
 .vhosoever employs against another the law of compulsion 
 means thereby that he does not recognize between himselt and 
 other men anv other law but that. Treating them as if they 
 were purely physical agents, he gives us thereby to understand 
 that he recognizes himself, and expects to be treated, as such ; 
 he means to take advantage of his strength-as long as he is the 
 strongest, but gives us to understand thereby that he is satisfied 
 to submit to strength if he is the weaker. 
 
 It is here that the right of self-(Ufense comes in. He who 
 is violently attacked, has the right to oppose to violence just 
 as much strength as there is employed against him. Other- 
 wise, in aUowing himself to be knocked down by strength, 
 he would consent to the abasement, to the suppression of his 
 own personality ; he would in some respect be the accomphce 
 of thfe violenc^he is made to suffer. Some Christian sects, 
 straining this point, go so far as to condemn absolutely the 
 riaht of self-defense ; they do not see that this would mfalhbly 
 br°inc. with it the triumph of brute force, and the suppression 
 of all iustice. Such sects may, to a certain extent, manage to 
 exist in civHized societies ; but the principle is self-destructive, 
 since not to resist violence is in some respect to be its accom- 
 
 plice. 
 
 Yet, whilst admitting the right of self-defense, it is necessary 
 to recognize its limits. " This agent," says ^L Kenouvier, 
 " whom the right of self-defense treats as a brute, tins bemg is 
 a man, nevertheless, or has been one, or may become such. 
 Hence the doctrine of conscience is to admit this right only 
 when necessary, and not beyond what is necessary." {Moral 
 Science, Ch. LVi.) This is, to begin with, a natural conse- 
 quence of the duties towards one's self, since it is already a sur- 
 render of one's digmity to be obliged to act in the capacity of 
 a physical agent, and renounce one's character of a moral per- 
 son -^it is also a duty towards humanity in general, which is
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAN LIFE. 00 
 
 represented by every man, even the most violent and the 
 most uncultivated. 
 
 26. Problems. — The right of legitimate self-defense gives 
 rise to a certain number of problems relative to the law of 
 homicide. M. Jules Simon* reduces them to five: homicide 
 in case of self-defense, penalty of death, political assassination, 
 duel, and war. In the first case it is implied in ^vhat pre- 
 cedes, that legitimate self-defense may go so far as to deprive 
 another man of life ; but only in case of absolute necessity. 
 
 There remain the four other cases, which are not all of the 
 same order. 
 
 27. The penalty of death. — The penalty of death in 
 these days has been very much contested, and several States 
 have tried to abolish it. f 
 
 The following arguments are brought to bear against it : 
 
 1. The inviolahility of luiman life. — The State, it is said, 
 should not give the example of what it proscribes and punishes. 
 Now, it punishes homicide ; then it should not itself commit 
 homicide. 
 
 2. The possible mistahe-s, which in all other cases can be 
 corrected, but which in this case alone are irreparable. 
 
 3. Experience, which, it is said, tells against it in certain 
 countries by proving that the number of crimes has not been 
 increased by the suppression of the penalty of death. 
 
 4. Finally, the refinement of manners, which can no longer 
 bear the idea of capital punishment. 
 
 No one of these arguments is wholly decisive. 
 
 1. The inviolability of human life is not an absolute thing, 
 at least not for those who admit the right of legitimate self- 
 defense. We shall examine this presently. 
 
 2. Judiciary mistakes are very rare, and will become more 
 
 * Le Devoir. Part iv., Ch. iii. 
 
 t In Tuscany the penalty of death was abolished in the eighteenth century by the 
 Grand Duke Leopold. It was again established with the Grand Duch/s annexation 
 to the Kingdom of Italy. In Switzerland, after being abolished by the Confeder- 
 ation, the penalty of death was finally left to be determined by each particular can- 
 ton.
 
 56 ELEMKXTS OF MORALS. 
 
 r 
 
 and more so, as justice becomes more respectful to^A^^^d3 the 
 rights of the accused, and tlarough greater publicity, by the 
 intervention of a jury, etc. 
 
 3. Experience is not so much of a test as it is said to be, and 
 is often made on too small a scale. The attempts at abolition 
 have not been very numerous. In Tuscany murders have 
 always been very rare on account of the gentleness of man- 
 ners. In Switzerland, on the contrary, crime is on the in- 
 crease, and certain cantons have asked for a return to the death 
 penalty. Besides, it is a very difficult experiment to make. 
 How could a society as complicated as ours dare to trust its 
 security to so hazardous an experiment 1 
 
 4. The refinement of manners may gradually bring about, 
 thanks to the institution of the jury, the diminution, perhaps 
 some day the suppression, of the penalty of death, without its 
 being necessary for the State to lay aside this powerfid means 
 of defense and intimidation. 
 
 The ]>enalty of death, in fact, can be considered legitimate 
 only in the light of the right of self-defense. If society needs 
 this penalty to protect the life of its members, it may be said 
 that it is authorized to use it, on the same ground as each in- 
 dividual to whom we have conceded the right to repel force 
 by force, and to deprive of his own life one who should 
 threaten to take his life. 
 
 But, it will be objected, the right of self-defense, when end- 
 ing in homicide, is justifiable only at the moment of the attack, 
 and to ward off a sudden aggression itself threatening murder ; 
 but the deed once committed and the criminal in the hands of 
 the law, there is no reason to fear a new aggression from him, 
 and his chances of escape from justice through evasion are too 
 few to justify the violation of a duty so absolute as the re- 
 spect for human life. 
 
 It may be answered that society, by the death penalty, not 
 only defends itself against the criminal himself, but against 
 all those who might be inclined to imitate him. The penalty 
 of death is above all a precautionary means of defense, that
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAN" LIFE. 57 
 
 is to say, a means of intimidation. The future criminal is 
 warned beforehand of the risks he runs ; he accepts volun- 
 tarily the punishment he will incur. If society should catch 
 him in the a<i\,^agrante delicto — it would certainly, in order 
 to prevent the crime, since it is the representative of all indi- 
 viduals, have the same rights as the individual of defending 
 himself. But the difficulty of seizing upon the criminal at the 
 moment of commission, can it be considered a circumstance 
 in favor of the criminal, and does society lose its right, be- 
 cause, through the skill and precautions of assassins, it 
 can but very rarely, and scarcely ever, catch them in the 
 act? 
 
 The right of society to defend itself by the death penalty 
 does not seem to us, then, to admit any doubt. The whole 
 question is to know whether such a means of defense is really 
 necessary and efficacious. It is, as as we have said, a question 
 of experience which it is very difficult to settle, for the rea- 
 son that we dare not make the experiment. All that can be 
 said is that, as a principle, every man fears death ; it is the 
 greatest of fears. There is, therefore, reason to believe that 
 it is the most powerful of the means of intimidation. Be- 
 sides, it is known that professional criminals estimate Avith 
 great accuracy offenses and crimes proportionably to their 
 penalties. Thus, those who steal know that they expose 
 themselves to such or such punishment, but they go no far- 
 ther in order not to incur a more severe punishment ; for 
 these the penalty of death is certainly a great item in their 
 plans, and it would be dangerous to relieve them of this 
 menace. 
 
 We do not mean to say that in future society may not 
 reach a state of organization strong and enlightened enough to 
 be able to do without such means ; but in the present state of 
 things we should consider the attempt to abolish them danger- 
 ous for society. 
 
 28. Of political assassination.— Concerning this pre- 
 tended right, so shockingly promulgated in these days by
 
 58 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 savage factions, we cannot do better, tlian quote the words of 
 M. Jules Simon in his book on Duty : 
 
 " Political assassination," he says, " is essentially worthy of condem- 
 nation from whichever side one looks at it. It has the same origin as 
 the penalty of death, with this double difference that, in the applica- 
 tion of the penalty of death, it is the State that pronounces the sentence 
 conformably to the law, whilst in political assassination it is the same 
 man who makes the law, pronounces the sentence, and executes it. 
 Now, society, though badly constituted, and the law, though bad, are 
 nevertheless a guaranty, whilst there is none at all against the caprice, 
 passion or false judgment of a single individual. Besides, the legiti- 
 macy of the penalty of death is connected uith the legitimacy of the 
 power that pronounces it, and the uniformity of the law. Let some 
 tyrannical authority cause a man to be shot at the corner of a street, 
 without form of legal process, that cannot be called penalty of death ; 
 it is called murder ; and even when the victim should have deserved 
 his death, the government would not be the less criminal for having 
 executed him without trial. If these principles are just, how can we 
 admit the theory of political assassination, which allows the destiny of 
 all to depend upon the conscience of a single individual. We reflect so 
 little upon the rights of men that there are those who will condemn the 
 death penalty and yet approve of political assassination. We judge so 
 badly, that under the Restoration a monument was erected to Georges 
 Cadoudal, and we hear every day the eulogy of Charlotte Corday. The 
 guiltiness of the victim does not legitimate the act of the murderer. 
 It is both unwise and criminal to furnish hatred with such excuses." 
 
 29. The duel. — Does the duel come under the head of 
 legitimate self-defense ? iSTo ; whatever custom and prejudice 
 may say in its favor. 
 
 1. We must first lay aside without discussion all duels 
 bearing on frivolous causes, and they are the largest in num- 
 ber. 
 
 2. In many other cases reparation may be obtained through 
 the law, and prejudice alone can prevent having recourse to 
 it. If I am willing to have recourse to law in a case of rob- 
 bery, why should I not appeal to this same law when my 
 honor is attacked ? 
 
 3. The duel is an absurd form of justice, because it puts
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS HUMAN LIFE. 59 
 
 the offender and the one offended on the same level. It is 
 not the guilty one that is punished ; it is the awkward one. 
 
 4. Social justice has degrees of penalty in proportion to the 
 gravity of the offense, and is applied only aftei a very severe 
 examination. The aim of the duel is to apply to very un- 
 equal offenses one and the same |)enalty, death (Jules Simon, 
 Le Devoir^ IV.), or if there are any degrees, since it does not 
 always result in death, these degrees are the effect of chance. 
 Finally, if in a duel the parties agree to use skill enough to 
 hurt each other as little as possible, is it not as if they con- 
 fessed to the injustice and insanity of the proceeding ? 
 
 5. The duel had its origin in suj^erstition : in the Combat 
 of God, in the belief, nameh% that God himself would arbi- 
 trate by means of the combat, and give the victory to the in- 
 nocent and strike the guilty. 
 
 6. The duel is a homicide or a suicide. It is, therefore, 
 contrary to the duty towards others and the duty towards our- 
 selves. Finally, the duel is contrary to the duty towards so- 
 ciety, which forbids each to be his own judge. 
 
 J. J. Rousseau, in the Noxivelle Heloise, has written on the 
 duel and suicide (see further on, Chapter xi.,) a letter often 
 quoted, of which we will briefly give the principal passages. 
 
 1. One must distinguish between real honor and apparent 
 honor : 
 
 What is there in common between the glory of killing a man and the 
 testimony of a riglitrous soul ? What liold can the vain opinion of 
 others have upon true honor, the roots of which are in the depths of the 
 lieart ? What ! the lies of a slanderer can destroy real virtues ? Do the 
 insults of a drunkard prove that one deserves them ? And can the 
 honor of a sensible man be at the mercy of the first ruffian he meets ? 
 
 2. The use of force cannot be a title to virtue : 
 
 Will you tell me that one must show courage, and that courage suf- 
 fices to etiace the shame and reproach of all other vices 1 In this case 
 a rogue woidd have but to fight a duel to cease to be a rogue ; the words 
 of a liar would become true if maintained at the point of a sword ; and 
 if you were charged with ha^'ing killed a man, you wo'jld go and kill a
 
 60 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 second one to prove that the charge is not true. Thus, virtue, vice, 
 honor, infamy, tmth, falsehood, all derive their being from the event 
 of a fight ; a fencing-hall becomes the seat of all justice ; might makes 
 right. 
 
 3. Antiquity, so rich in heroes and great characters, knew 
 nothing of the duel. There may then exist societies civiKzed 
 and refined where a man may defend his honor without having 
 to resort to the duel. This is a remarkably striking argu- 
 ment :* 
 
 Did ever the valiant men of antiquity think of avenging their per- 
 sonal insults by single combats ? Did Caesar send a challenge to Cato 
 or Pompey to Ceesar ? " Other times, other manners, you 11_ say, 1 
 know, but true honor does not vary ; it does not depend on times or 
 places or prejudices ; it can neither pass away nor be born again; it has 
 Its eternal source in the heart of the just man and m the unalterable 
 rule of his duties. If the most enlightened, the bravest the most vir- 
 tuous nations of the earth knew nothing of the duel, I say that it is 
 uot an institution of honor, but rather a frightful and barbarous fashion 
 worthy of its savage origin. 
 
 4. It is not true that a man of honor incurs contempt hy 
 
 refusing a duel : 
 
 The righteous man whose whole life is pure, who never gave any sign 
 of cowardice, will refuse to stain his hand by a homicide, and wdl be 
 only the more honored for it. Always ready to serve his country, to 
 protect the feeble, to fulfil the most dangerous duties, and deijnd in a 1 
 •ust and honest encounters, and at the price of his blood, what he holds 
 dear he will reveal in all his transactions that resolute firmness which 
 always accompanies true courage. In the security o his conscience he 
 walks with head erect ; he neither flies from nor seeks his enemy on 
 can easily see that he fears less to die than to do wrong, and that it is 
 not danger he shuns, but crime. 
 
 30 War —War is the most serious and the most solemn 
 exception to the law which forbids homicide. Not only does 
 
 * It answers the frequent assertion that the courtesy -^ -S-'-^ch u,cn^^ 
 each other reciprocally, would soon disappear if they were not protected by 
 source of the duel.
 
 DUTIES TCWAEDS HUMAN LIFE. 61 
 
 it permit homicide, but it commands it. The means thereto 
 are prepared in public ; the art of practicing them is a brancli 
 of education, and it is glorious to destroy as many enemies as 
 possible. 
 
 One cannot fail to see the sad side of war, and how contrary 
 it is to the ideal tendencies of modern society. It is still to 
 be hoped that there will come a time when nations will 
 find a more rational and more humane means of conciliating 
 their differences. But there is no indication of this good time 
 as yet, nor even that it is near, and it is necessary to guard 
 against a false philanthropy, which would imperil the sacred 
 rights of patriotism. 
 
 The problem of war in itself belongs rather to the law of na- 
 tions than to morality properly so called. It Avill be in studying 
 late? the relations of the nations between each other that we 
 shall have to establish as a rule that the right of self-defense 
 exists for them as well as for the individual. The only ques- 
 tion in a moral point of view is to know whether the indi- 
 vidual, by the sole fact of the order of society, is released 
 from the duty imposed on him not to shed blood. Some re- 
 ligious sects in the early times of Christianity, others in 
 modern times in England and in America (the Quakers), be- 
 lieve that the interdiction of homicide is an absolute tliinsr ; 
 they claim the right to })e exempt from military duty. The 
 State, of course, never recognized the legitimacy of such a 
 scruple, which would prevent all social subordination and de- 
 prive the defense of the country of all its strength. But 
 neither does morality recognize such a right. As a part of a 
 society which is commissioned to defend us, and which can 
 do so only by using force, it is evident that each one should 
 share in the acts by which it undertakes to defend us. For 
 how can malefactors be prosecuted without employing force 1 
 The same may be asked as to enemies from without. Xow, as 
 society defends every one equally, it cannot make any excep- 
 tion in favor of such or such scruple. It can grant exemp-
 
 g2 TLEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 tions, but cannot admit that each should exempt himself hy 
 the scruples of liis conscience. 
 
 Certainly it ought not to be maintained that any order given 
 by society releases the individual conscience from all consider- 
 ation But obedience to the law is the foundation of social 
 order, and co-operation in the public defense is a duty of ab- 
 solute necessity. Of course one assumes m this view im- 
 plicitly the legitimacy of war ; but this question will be 
 treated later on by itself, and in accordance with the reasons 
 belonging to it.
 
 CHAPTER ly. 
 
 DUTIES CONCEEXIXG THE PROPEKTY OF OTHERS. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 Of property. — Its fundamental principle ; work sanctioned by law. 
 Communistic Utopia. — Inequality of wealth : it is founded on nature, 
 but should not be aggravated by the law. — Different forms of the 
 rights of property : loans, trusts, things lost, sales, ijropcrty i^Toperlij 
 so called. 
 
 Loan. — Is it a duty to loan ? — The interest of money. — The question of 
 usury. — Duties oi creditor and debtor. — Failures and bankruptcies. — 
 The commodate or things loaned for use. 
 
 Trust. — Duties of the depositary and the deponent. 
 
 Of the possession in good faith. — The thi-ng lost. 
 
 Sales. — Obligations oi seller and buyer. 
 
 Of property in general. — Violation of property or th^ft. — ^The ele- 
 ments which constitute ilieit— Simple thefts and qualified thefts. — 
 Abuse of confidence, sivindling. — Restitution. 
 
 Promises and contracts. — Differences between these two facts. — Strict 
 obligation to keep one's promises : rare exceptions (practical impos- 
 sibility, illicit promises, etc.) — Different kinds of contracts. —Co/it? i- 
 tions of the contract : consent, capacity of contracting parties, a real 
 object, a licit cause. —Rules for the formation of contracts.— Rules 
 for the interpretation of contracts. 
 
 The immediate consequence of the right of self-preservation 
 which eacli lias, etc., implies the rujht of property. 
 
 31. Property. — A'SHiat is property ? ^Miat is its origin and 
 principle ? \Vliat objections has it raised ] What moral and
 
 64 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 social reasons justify it, rendering its maintenance both sacred 
 and necessary ? 
 
 " Property," says the civil code, "is the right to enjoy and 
 dispose of tilings in the most absoli;te manner, provided no use 
 is made of them prohibited by the laws or the rules." (Art. 544.) 
 
 "The right of property," says the Constitution of '93, " is 
 that which belcngs to every citizen: to enjoy, and dispose at 
 will of liis property, his income, of the frxiit of his labor and 
 industry." (Art. 8.) 
 
 These are the judicial and political definitions of property. 
 Philosophically, it may be said, that it is the right each man 
 has to make something his own, that is to say, to attribute to 
 himself the exclusive right to enjoy something outside of 
 himself. 
 
 We must distinguish between possession and x^'^'operty. 
 Possession is nothing else than actual custody: I may have m 
 my hands an object that is not mine, which has either been 
 loaned to me, or which I may have found ; this does not make 
 me its proprietor. Property is the right I have to exclude all 
 others from the use of a thing, even if I should not be in 
 actual possession of it. 
 
 32. Origin and fundamental principle of ppoperty.— The 
 first property is that of my own body, but thus far it is nothing 
 else than what may be called corporeal liberty. How do we 
 go beyond that 1 How do we extend this primitive right 
 over things which are outside of ourselves 1 
 
 Let us first remark that this right of appropriating external 
 things rests on necessity and on the laws of organized beings. 
 It is evident, in fact, that life cannot be preserved otherwise 
 than by a perpetual exchange between the parts of the living 
 body and tlie particles of the surrounding bodiea Kutrition 
 is assimilation, and, consequently, approjyriation. It is, then, 
 necessary that certain things of the external world should be- 
 come mine, otherwise life is impossible. 
 
 Property is then necessary ; let us nov/ see by what means 
 it becomes legitimate.
 
 DUTIES CONCEKNIXG THE IROPERTY OF OTHERS. 60 
 
 Property has been given several origins : occupation, law, 
 work: According to some, property has for its fundaiuenia! 
 ^nnciTple iha rijht of the first occupant It is said that man 
 has the right of appropriating a thing not in possession of 
 some one else ; the same as at the theatre, the spectator who 
 comes first has the right to take the best place. (Cicero.) 80 
 be it ; but at the theatre I occupy only the place occupied by 
 my own body ; I have not the right to appropriate the whole 
 theatre, or even the pit. It is the same with the right of the 
 lirst occupant. I have certainly a riglit to the place my own 
 body would occupy, but no further : for where would my 
 right then stop 1 
 
 " Will the setting one's foot," saj^s J. J. Rousseau, " on a piece of com- 
 mon ground be sufficient to declare one's self at once the master of it? When 
 Nunez Balboa took on landing possession of the Southern Sea, and of 
 the whole of Southern America in the name of the Crown of Castile, 
 was tliat enough to exchide from it all the princes of the world ? At 
 that rate the Catholic king had but to take all at once possession in his 
 study of the wliole universe, relying upon subsequently striking otf 
 from his emiiire what before was in possession of the other princes.'' 
 (Contrat social, liv. ler, Ch. ix. ) 
 
 The law. — If occupation of itself alone is insufficient in 
 founding the right of property, Avill it not become legitimate 
 by adding to it convention — that is to say, the law 1 Property, 
 we have seen, is necessary ; but if every one is free to appro- 
 priate to himself what he needs, it becomes anarchy ; it is, as 
 Hobbes .said, " the war of all against all." It is necessary 
 that the law should fix the property of each in the interest of 
 all. Property, under tliis new hypothesis, would then mean 
 the part which public authority has fixed or recognized, whether 
 we admit a primitive division made by a magistrate, or a 
 primitive occupation more or less due to clianee, but conse- 
 crated by law. 
 
 Certainly, the reason of social utility plays a groat part in 
 the establishment and consecration of property ; and it would 
 be absurd not to take this consideration into account. Cer-
 
 65 ELEMENTS OF MORAI^ 
 
 tainly, even if property were but a fact consecrated by tinie^ 
 by necessity, and by law, it would already by tliat alone have 
 a very great authority ; but we believe that that is not saying 
 enouo-li. Property is not only a consecrated fact, it is also a 
 right. It finds in the law its guarantij, but not its foundation. 
 
 The true prmciple of property is icork ; and property be- 
 somes blended with liberty itself : " liberty and proiJertij," 
 say the English. 
 
 Work. — If all the things man has need of were in unlimited 
 number, and if they could be acquired without effort, there 
 would be no property. This, for example, takes place in the 
 case of the atmosphere, of which we all have need, but which 
 belongs to no one. But if the question is of things that can- 
 not be acquired except by a certain effort (as in the case of 
 animals running wild), or even that can be j^roduced only by 
 human effort (as a harvest in a barren ground), these things 
 belong by right to him who conquers them or brings them 
 about. 
 
 " I take wild wheat into my hand, I sow it in soil I have dug, and I 
 wait for the earth, aided by rain and sunshine, to do its work. Is 
 the growing crop my property ? Where would it be without me ? I 
 created it. Wlio can deny it ? . . . This earth was worth nothing 
 and produced nothing : I dug the soil ; I brought from a distance 
 friable and fertilizing earth ; I enriched it with manure ; it is now fertile 
 for many years to come. This fertility is my work . . . The earth 
 belonged to no one ; in fertilizing it, I made it mine. According to 
 Locke° nine tenths at least of the produce of the soU should be 
 attributed to human labor." * 
 
 It has been said that work is not a sufficient foundation to 
 establish the right of property ; that occupation must be added 
 tliereto, for otherwise work alone would make us the pro- 
 prietors of what is already occupied by others ; the farmer 
 would become the proprietor of the fields he cultivates from 
 the fact alone that he cultivates them. Occupation is there- 
 fore a necessary element of property. 
 
 * Jules yiinon, La Lihaie, ii. part, ch. iii.
 
 DCTIES CONCERNING THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 67 
 
 Certainly ; but occupation itself lias no value except as it 
 already represents labor, and inasmuch as it is labor. The 
 fact of culling a fruit, of seizing an animal, and even of setting 
 foot upon a desert land, is an exercise of my activity which is 
 more or less easy or difficult to accomplish, but Avhich in 
 reality is not the less the result of an effort. It is, then, work 
 itself which lays the foundation of occupation and consecrates 
 it. But when the thing once occupied has become the prop- 
 erty of a man by a lirst Avork, it can no longer without con- 
 tradiction become the property of another by a subsequent 
 work. This work applied to the property of others is not the 
 less itself the foundation of property, namely : the price 
 received in exchange of work, which is called salarij, and 
 which again by exchange can obtain for us the possession of 
 things not ours. 
 
 33. Accumulation and transmission. — The right of ap- 
 propriation, founded as we have just seen on work, carries 
 with it as its consequence, the right of accumulation and that 
 of transmission. 
 
 In fact, if I have acquired a thing, I can either enjoy it 
 actually, or reserve it to enjoy it later ; and if I have more 
 than my actual wants require, I can lay aside Avhat to-day 
 is useless to me, but which will be useful to me later. This 
 is what is called -say ?«_r/; and the successive additions to savings 
 is called accumxilatioii. This right cannot be denied to man ; 
 for that would be ignoring in him one of his noblest facul- 
 ties, namely, the faculty of providing for the future. In 
 suppressing this right, the very source of all production, 
 namely, work, would dry up ; for it is his thought of the 
 future which, above all, induces man to work to insure his 
 security. 
 
 The right of transmission is another consequence of prop- 
 erty ; for if I have enjoyment myself, I ought to be able to 
 transmit it to others ; finally, I can give up my property to 
 obtain in its place the property of others which might be 
 more agreeable or more useful to me ; hence the right of eX'
 
 68 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 chaaqe, which gives rise to what is called purchase and sale. 
 Of all transmissions, the most natural is that which takes 
 place between a father and his children : this is what is 
 called inheritance. If we were to deprive the head of a 
 family of the right of thinking of his children in the accumu- 
 lation of the fruits of his labors, we should destroy thereby 
 the most energetic instigation to work there is in the human 
 
 heart. . 
 
 34 Individual property and the community.— The ad- 
 versaries of property have often said that they did irot attack 
 property in itself, but only individual property. The soil 
 which, if not the principle, is at least the source of all riches, 
 belon-s, they say, not to the individual, but to society ; to the 
 State,"that is to say, to all, as common and undivided property : 
 each individual is but a consumer, and receives his share from 
 the State, which alone is the true proprietor. This is what is 
 called the community system, or commitnism, which takes two 
 forms, according as it admits the division to be made m a 
 manner absolutely equal among the co-members of the society, 
 which is the equality system {systeme egalitaire) ; or by reason 
 of capacity and works. It is this form of communism which 
 the school of Saint-Simon maintains at this day. 
 
 We need not point out the practical impossibility of realiz- 
 ing such a system. Let us confine ourselves to showing its 
 essential vice. If communism means absolute equahty (and 
 true communism does), it destroys the main inducement to 
 work : for man assured of his living by the State, has nothing 
 left to stimulate him to personal effort. Work, deprived of 
 the hope of a legitimate remuneration, would be reduced to a 
 strict minimum, and civilization, which lives by work, would 
 rapidly -o backward : general wretchedness would be the neces- 
 sary con° equence of this state of things ; aU would be equally 
 poor and miserable ; humanity would go back to its primitive 
 state, to get from which it struggled so hard, and from which 
 it emerged by means of work and property alone. Moreover, 
 as it is absolutely impossiljle to dispense with work, the State
 
 DUTIES CONCERNING THE ritOPERTY OF OTHEItS. G9 
 
 •would be obliged to enforce it upon those whom their interest 
 did not spontaneously incline to it; from being free, work 
 Avould become servile, and the pensioners of the State would 
 in realit)^ be but its slaves. 
 
 As to the inequality-communism {eommunisme inejalitaire) 
 which recommends a remuneration from the State, proportioned 
 to merit and products, that is to say, to copadtij and works, it 
 certainly does not so very seriously impair the principle of 
 property and liberty ; but, on the one hand, it does not satisfy 
 the instincts of equality,* which have at all times inspired the 
 communistic Utopias; on the other, it attacks the family 
 instincts by suppressing inheritance ; now, if man is interested 
 in his own fate, he interests himself still more, as he grows 
 old, in the fate of his children ; in depriving him of the 
 responsibility for their destinies, you deprive him of the 
 most energetic stimulus to work ; and the tendency would be, 
 though in a lesser degree, to produce the same evil of general 
 impoverishment, as would communism properly so ca;lled. But 
 the principal vice of all communism, whether of equality or 
 inequality, is to substitute the State for the individual, to 
 make of all men functionaries, to commit to the State the 
 destinies of all individuals ; in one word, to make of the State 
 a jirovidenco.f 
 
 35. Inequality of riches. — Yet there will always arise in 
 the mind a grave problem : ^Vliy are goods created for all, 
 distributed in so unequal and capricious a manner? AVhy the 
 rich and the poor? and if ine(iuality must exist, why is it not 
 in proportion to inequality of merit and individual work ? 
 A\niy are the idle and i)rodigal sometimes rich? Why are 
 the poor overwhelmed by both work and poverty ? 
 
 There are two questions here : 1. Why is there any in- 
 e(iuality at all ? 2. "V^^ly, supposing this inequality must 
 
 * Tims we see Saint Simonian ideas completely rlisapppar from the mo<iem soeial- 
 istie sects wlndi all tend to lilend with the equality-communism pure and simple. 
 
 t On the question of property, see Thiers, La ProprieU (1848) and the Harmonies 
 iconomiques de Bastial, ch. viii
 
 f^Q ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 exist, has it no connectiou witli merit or the work of the in- 
 dividual ? 
 
 Eegarding the first point, we cannot deny, unless we should 
 wish to suppress all human responsibility, aU free and per- 
 sonal activity— in a word, all liberty— we cannot deny, I say, 
 that the inequality of merit and of work authorizes and 
 justifies a certain inequality in the distribution of prop- 
 erty. 
 
 But, it is said, this inequality is not always m proportion 
 to the work. It may be answered that as civic laws become 
 more perfect (by the abolition of monopoly, privileges, abuse 
 of rights, such as the feudal rights, etc.,) the distribution of 
 riches will tend to become more and more in proportion to 
 individual merit and efforts. There remain but two sources 
 of inequality which do not proceed from personal work : 1, 
 accidents ; 2, hereditary transmission. But in regard to acci- 
 dents, there is no way of absolutely suppressing the part 
 chance plays in man's destiny ; it can only be corrected and 
 diminished, and thereto tend the institutions of life-assur- 
 ances, savings-banks, banks of assistance, etc., which are 
 means of equalization growing along ^^-ith the general pro- 
 gress. As to the inequality produced by inheritance, one of 
 two things is to be considered : either the heir keeps and in- 
 creases by his OAvn work what he has acquired, and thus suc- 
 ceeds in deserving it ; or, on the contrary, he ceases to work 
 and consumes without producing, and in this case he destroys 
 his privilege himself without the State's meddling with it. 
 
 Besides, the question is less concerning the relative well- 
 being of men than their absolute icell-being. What use would 
 it be to men to be all equal if they were all miserable ? There 
 is certamly more equality in a republic of savages than in our 
 European societies ; but how many of our poor Europeans are 
 there who would exchange their condition for an existence 
 among savages? In reality, social progress, in continually in- 
 creasing general wealth, increases at the same time the well- 
 beinc oi each, without increasing the sum of individual efforts.
 
 DUTIES CONCERXIXG THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 71 
 
 This superaddition of Avell-being is in reality gratuitous, aa 
 Bastiat has demonstrated. " Hence," as he says, " with a 
 community increasing in well-being,* as by property ever 
 better guaranteed, we leave behind us the community of misery 
 from which Ave came." 
 
 "Property," says Bastiat, " tends to transfonn onerous into gratuitous 
 utility. It is that spur which obliges human intelligence to draw from 
 the inertia of matter its latent natural forces. It struggles, certainly 
 for its own benefit, against the obstacles which make utility onerous ; 
 and when the obstacle is overthrown, it is found that its disappearance 
 benefits all. Then the indefatigable proprietor attacks new obstacles, 
 and continually raising the human level, he more and more realizes 
 community, and with it equality in the midst of the great human 
 famUy." 
 
 36. Duties concerning the property of others. — After 
 having established the right of general property, we have to 
 expound the duties relative to the property of others. 
 
 The property of others may be injured in various Avays, and 
 in different cases. These cases are : 1,. loans; 2, trusts ; 3, 
 things lost ; 4, sales ; 5, proj^jerty strictly so-called. 
 
 37. Loans. — Debts. — The inequahty of riches is the cause 
 that among men some have need of what others possess, and 
 yet cannot procure by purchase, for want of means. In this 
 case, the first turn to the second to obtain the temporary en- 
 joyment of the thing they stand in need of ; this is called 
 horrowinr/ ; the reciprocal act, which consists in conceding for 
 a time the desired object, is called loaning. He Avho borrows, 
 and who by this very act engages himself to return the thing 
 again, is called debtor (who owes), and he Avho loans is called 
 creditor ; he has a credit on his debtor. 
 
 Several questions spring from tliis, some very simple, others 
 very delicate, and often debated. 
 
 38. Rights and duties of the creditor.— Money interest.— 
 Usury. — And first, is it a duty to loan to any that ask you ? It 
 
 * See In the Harmonies cconomiqucs vni. , that ingenious and substantial theory 
 which shows the growing progress of th» oommiinity by reason of propertj-.
 
 72 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 is evident that if it is a duty it can be only a duty of charity, or 
 friendliness, but not of strict justice. One is no more obliged to 
 loan to all than to give to all. The duty of loaning, like the 
 duty of giving without discrimination, would be tantamount 
 to the negation of property ; for he who would open his 
 money-chest to all unconditionally, however rich he might be, 
 would in a few days be absolutely despoiled. Besides, the 
 same duty weighing equally on those who have received, 
 they in their turn would be obliged to pass their goods over 
 to others, and no one would ever be proprietor. In this case, 
 it would even be better to hand all property over to the State, 
 that it might establish a certain order and fixity in the repar- 
 tition of it. 
 
 It is this doctrine Avhich a Father of the Church, Clement 
 of Alexandria, has expressed in these terms in his treatise : 
 Can any rich man he saved ? 
 
 " "What division of property could there be among men if no one ha,d 
 anytliing ? If we cannot fulfil the duties of charity without any money, 
 and if at the same time we were commanded to reject riches, would 
 there not be contradiction ? Would it not be to say at the same time 
 give and not give, feed and not feed, share and not share ? " 
 
 It is therefore not a strict duty to loan to all ; it is a form 
 of benevolence, and we must put off to another chapter (ch, 
 vi.) the conditions and the degrees of this duty. 
 
 But a question which necessarily presents itself here, is to 
 know if, when one loans, it is a duty to deprive one's self of all 
 remuneration ; or if it is, on the contrary, permitted to exact 
 a price over and beyond the sum loaned. This is what is 
 called money interest ; and when this interest is or appears 
 excessive, it is called usury. This question, discussed during 
 the whole middle ages, was, before its true principles were 
 established, first resolved by practice and necessity. 
 
 It is to-day evident to all sensible minds, that capital, like 
 work, has a right to remuneration. Why ? Because without 
 the expectation of this remuneration, the possessor of the
 
 DUTIES CONCERNING THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 73 
 
 capital would forthwith consume it himself or allow it to 
 waste away without use. This will be better understood in 
 considering the two principal forms of remuneration for cap- 
 ital : interest and rent. Interest and rent are both tlie pro- 
 duct of a capital loaned, but with this difference, that rent 
 is the product of a fixed capital (house, field, workshop) ; 
 Avhile interest is the product of a circulating capital (money 
 or paper). 
 
 The interest of cajiital represents two things : 1, the depri- 
 vation of him who loans, and who might consume his capital; 
 2, the risk he incurs, for capital is never loaned except to be 
 invested, and consequently it may be lost. These are the 
 two fundamental reasons which establish the legitimacy of 
 interest, despite the prejudices Avhich have long condemned it 
 as usury, and the Utopias Avhich would establish the gratuity 
 of credit* 
 
 The principal reason against the legitimacy of interest is 
 deduced from the sterility of money. " Interest," says Aris- 
 totle, "is money bred from money ; and nothing is more con- 
 trary to nature." But, as Bentham remarks {Defense of Usury, 
 letter 10), "if it l)e true that a sum of Jiioney is of itself in- 
 capable to breed, it is not the less true that with this same 
 borrowed sum, a man can buy a ram and a sheep, which, at 
 the end of a year, will have produced two or three lambs." 
 In other terms, as Calvin says, " it is not from the money it- 
 self that the benefit comes, it is from the use that is made 
 of it." 
 
 It has been said that he Avho loans does not dejyrire him- 
 self of his money, since he can do without it. (Proudhon, 
 Letters to Bastiat, 3d letter.) But he does deprive himself 
 of it, since he might have consumed it himself. The proof 
 that a loan is a privation, is the pain men have in economiz- 
 ing and in investing their money. How many men are there 
 
 * See especially about the question of interest, the controversy between ProuclhoB 
 and Bastiat. (Works of Bastiat, vol. v., Gratuity of Credit.) 
 
 4
 
 74 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 who, in possession of a sum of one Imndred fvancs, v.-ould not 
 rather spend it than place it on interest 1 
 
 As to what is called gratuitous credit, it could be possible 
 only by being reciprocal. In fact, if I loan you my house, and 
 you loan me in return your land, supposing they are of 
 equal value, it is evident that, the one being worth as much 
 as the other, and the two services equivalent, we need not 
 pay each other anything ; for it would be only an exchange 
 of money. But notliing can be inferred from this, touching 
 the most usual case : namely, where the capital is loaned by 
 the possessor to him who does not possess ; for then there is 
 no reciprocity, consequently no gratuity. 
 
 As to the rate of interest it varies like all values according 
 to the law of supply and demand in the money market. (See 
 the Cours d'Economie Politique.) The greater the supply of 
 capital the less dear it is. It is, then, the increase of capital 
 that is to diminish interest and bring about a sort of relative 
 gratuity. Every enterprise against capital Avill produce a 
 
 contrary result. 
 
 As to the rent of capital, it has generally raised fewer 
 objections than interest; for it is easier to understand that if 
 I give myself the trouble to build a house, it is that it will 
 bring me in something; but it is, on the whole, the same 
 thing, with this difference, that circulating capital, running 
 more risks than fixed capital, seems to have a still better right 
 to remuneration. 
 
 The lender has then the right to exact a certain amount 
 over and above the sum loaned. Certainly, he cannot exact 
 it, as it often occurs among friends, and for very small sums. 
 But as a principle, one is no more obliged to lend gratuitously, 
 than to give to others gratuitously what they need. 
 
 In admitting that the interest of money is a legitimate thing, 
 
 is one obligedalso to admit that the money-lender has a right 
 
 to fix the rate of interest as high as he wishes 1 Beyond a 
 
 certain limit, will not the interest become what we call mury ? 
 
 To which may be replied ; ■
 
 DUTIES CONCERNING THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 75 
 
 "1. If the one borrowing consents to pay the price, it is that this service 
 done liiui does not appear to him too dear. One may borrow at 20 and 
 even 30 per cent., it one foresees a gain of 40. 2. Why not look 
 tt the thing from the lender's standpoint ? If the return of the funds 
 appears more or less doubtful, why should he not have the right to 
 protect himself?" {Dictionary of Politics, by Maurice Block.) 
 
 These arguments prove, in fact, that it is impossible to 
 determine beforehand and absolutely the rate at which it 
 may be permitted to lend, and there are many cases where a 
 very high interest may be legitimate : for instance, in what 
 is called hottomnj-loan, Avhich consists in advances made to 
 shipping merchants on their ships ; the law here sanctions 
 very high interest, because of the exceptional risks this kind 
 of enterprise runs. 
 
 Does it, however, follow, as some economists seem to think, 
 that there is no occasion to speak of it.sur?/, properly so called, 
 that the term usurer is an insult, invented by ignorance, which 
 has no real basis 1 This Ave cannot admit. Political economy 
 and morality are two different things. 
 
 Even if one should admit that there is no reason for legally 
 fi.ving the rate of interest, because money is a merchandise like 
 all others which should be left to free circulation, to the free 
 appreciation of the parties, it would not foUow^ that there 
 could be no abuse made of the required interest. Experience 
 proves the contrary. It is not so much the rate of the interest 
 which constitutes the injustice thereof, as the reasons and 
 circumstances of the loan. If, taking advantage of the pas- 
 sions of youth, one loans to a prodigal, knowing him unable 
 to refuse the conditions, because he only listens to pleasure ; 
 or if, seducing the ignorant, one dazzles him with magnificent 
 bargains ; or, lastly, if profiting by the common desire among 
 peasants to enlarge their grounds, we advance them money, 
 knowing they cannot return it, and secure thereby the proi>- 
 erty they think they are buying, in all such cases, or similar 
 ones, there is always usury, and morality must condemn such 
 hateful practices.
 
 76 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 The hatefulness of usury is brought into strong relief in 
 Moli^re's celebrated scene in The Miser (Act ii., Sc. i.) : 
 
 La FLt:CHE : Suppose that the lender sees all the securities, and 
 that the borrower be of age and of a family of large property, sub- 
 stantial, secure, clear and free from any incumbrances, there will then 
 be drawn up a regular bond before a notary, as honest a man as may be 
 found, who to this effect shall be chosen by the lender, to whom it is 
 of particular importance that the bond be properly drawn up. 
 
 Cleante : That's all right. 
 
 La FlIsche : The lender not to burden his conscience with any scruples, 
 means to give his money at the low rate of denier eighteen* (5, 9 per 
 
 cent. ) only. 
 
 Cleante : Denier eighteen ? Jolly ! That's honest indeed ! No 
 
 fault to find there ! 
 
 La FLteCHE : No. But as the said lender has not with him the sum 
 in question, and, to oblige the borrower, he will himself be obliged to 
 borrow from another at the rate of denier five (20 per cent.), it will be 
 but just that the abovesaid first borrower should pay that interest 
 without prejudice to the other, for it is only to oblige him that the 
 said lender resorts to this loan. 
 
 Cleante : The devil ! What a Jew ! What an Arab is that ! 
 That would be at a greater rate than denier four (25 per cent.). 
 
 La FLteCHE : That's so : it is just what I said. 
 
 Cleante : Is there anything more ? 
 
 La FLfcCHE : But just a small item. Of the fifteen thousand francs 
 tliat are asked, the lender can give in cash only twelve thousand, and 
 ibr the thousand crowns remaining, it will be necessary that the bor- 
 rower take the clothes, stock, jewelry, etc., of which here is the list. 
 
 Cleante : The plague on him ! 
 
 The next scene shows Avith remarkable energy the spend- 
 tlirift and the usurer in conflict Avith each other, f 
 
 39. Duties of the debtor. — After the duties of the lender 
 and the creditor, let us point out those of the borrower or the 
 debtor. The only duty for him here is to return what he 
 has borrowed : it is the duty of ^mying one's debts. 
 
 For a long time, the duty of paying one's debts appeared to 
 be one of those vulgar and commonplace duties intended foi 
 
 * Mode of reckoning in tlie time of Louis XIV. 
 
 t The scene between fatlier and son in Tlie Miser (Sc. ii., Act iii.).
 
 DUTIES COXCERNING THE PROPLKTY OF OTIIEES. 77 
 
 the generality of men, but from Avliich the great lords freed 
 themselves easily. The poor creditors have been the laughing 
 stock in comedies.* But it is not doubted nowadays that to 
 refuse to pay what one owes, is really taking from the projv 
 erty of others, and appropriating what does not belong to us. 
 
 This duty, besides, is so simple and stringent that it is 
 necessary only to mention it without further development. 
 The same principles apply to the various ways in which one 
 may make use of property, and particularly to the three kinds 
 indicated in the Civil Code— the usufruct, the usage, and the 
 right of action. The common obligation in these three cases, 
 mentioned by the Code, is to use the thing belonging to 
 others as a prudent father would, which is to say, to use it as 
 the proprietor himself would use it, without injuring the 
 object, and even improving it as much as possible. It is 
 especially in commerce that the act of paying one's debts, is 
 not only more obligatory morally, but socially more necessary 
 than anywhere else. The reason of it is that commerce is 
 impossible without credit. By exacting of every merchant 
 the payment of cash, the springs of exchange would dry up ; 
 besides, most of the time it would be useless ; for in com- 
 merce merchandise is constantly bought against merchandise. 
 It would be loss of time, loss of writing, limitation of the 
 market. In commerce one cannot say of him who owes that 
 he is a borrower ; for the next day, according to the fluctua- 
 tions of demand and supply, he may be the lender. But it is 
 just because credit is indispensable in commerce, that the 
 obligations of the debtors are in some respect more stringent ; 
 for the greater the confidence, the more stringent the duty. 
 So that commercial honor is like militarij honor — it does not 
 aduiit of breaking promises. 
 
 40. Failures and bankruptcies.— However strict one 
 should be in commerce in r.'gard to keeping promises, tliere is 
 nevertheless in the Code cause for distinguishing two different 
 
 * See, in Moliere's Don. Juan, tlie cliarming scene between Don Juan and Jlr. 
 Diinanuhe.
 
 jj/g ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 cases of promise-breaking— failure and bankruptcy ; and in 
 this second case, there is simple bankruptcy and fraudulent 
 
 bankruptcy. 
 
 Failure is purely and simply the suspension of payments 
 residtini? from circumstances independent of the will of him 
 Avho fads. Bankruptcy, on the contrary, is suspension of pay- 
 ments resulting either from imprudence or from mistakes of 
 
 the bankrupt. 
 
 Simple bankruptcy occurs in the following cases : 1. it the 
 personal expenses of the merchant or the expenses of his 
 house are judged excessive ; 2. If he has spent large sums of 
 money in operations of pure chance either in fictitious opem- 
 tions or extravagant purchases ; 3. If with the intention of 
 puttinc. off his failure, he has made purchases to sell again 
 below par; 4. If after cessation of payment, he has paid a 
 creditor to the prejudice of all others. (Code of Commerce.) 
 
 Bankruptcy is called fraudulent, Avhen the bankrupt has 
 abstracted his books, misrepresented a portion of his assets, or 
 declared liimself debtor for sums he does not owe. 
 
 It is useless to say that this third case is but another case 
 of theft and deserves the severest denunciation. Simple 
 bankruptcv is already very culpable ; and failure itself should 
 be regarded by all merchants as a very great misfortune, which 
 thev must avoid at any cost. 
 
 41 The commodate or gratuitous loan.-The gratuitous 
 loan *or commodate is a contract by which one of the parties 
 ^ves to the other a thing to be made use of, on the condition 
 that it be returned after having served its purpose. (Code 
 
 Civ., Art. 1875.) 
 
 4s a fundamental principle, the receiver must return to the 
 lender the very thing he has loaned him. But in case of loss 
 or deterioration of the thing loaned, resulting from the use 
 made of it, on whom is to fall the loss? 
 
 <■ It cannot be presumed, says Kant (Doctrine of the La^v, French 
 translation p. 146), that the lender should take upon himself al 
 he han s of los or deterioration of the thing loaned ; for .t
 
 DUTIES CONCEENING THE PKOPERTY OF OTHERS. 79 
 
 stands to reason that the proprietor, besides granting to the borrower 
 the use of the thing he loans liini, would not agree to insure him also 
 against all risks. If, for instance, during a shower, I enter a house, 
 where I borrow a cloak, and this cloak gets to be forever spoiled 
 from coloring matters thrown upon me by mischance, from a window, 
 or if it be stolen from me in a house where I laid it down, it would be 
 considered generally absurd, to say that I had nothing else to do than 
 to send hack the cloak, such as it is, or report the theft that has taken 
 place. The case would be very different if, after having asked per- 
 mission to use a thing, I should insure myself against the loss in case il^ 
 should suffer any damage at my hands, by begging not to be held respon- 
 sible for it. Xo one would think this precaution superfluous and ridic- 
 ulous, except perhaps the lender, supposing he was a rich and generous 
 man ; for it would then be almost an offense not to expect from his 
 generosity the remission of my debt. " 
 
 42. The trust. — Trust, in general, is an act by which 
 
 one receives the thing of another on condition to keep it and 
 restore it in kind. (Code Civ., Art. 1915.) 
 
 He who deposits is caUed deponent (or bailor in England) ; 
 he who receives the trust is caDed depositary (in England 
 baQee). 
 
 The obligations of the depositary are morally the same as 
 those foimd in positive law. AVe have then nothing better 
 to do here than to reproduce the precepts of the Code on this 
 matter. 
 
 1. The depositary, in keeping the tiling deposited with 
 him, must exercise the same care as with the things belonging 
 to himself (Art. 1927). 
 
 2. Tliis obhgation becomes still more stringent in the fol- 
 lowing cases : («), when the depositary offers liimself to receive 
 the thing in trust; {h), when he stipulates for a compensation 
 for the keeping of the thing deposited ; {r), when the trust is 
 to the interest of the depositary ; {d), when it has been ex- 
 pressly agreed upon that the depositary be answerable for all 
 kinds of mistakes (Art. 1928). 
 
 3. The depositary cannot make use of the trust without the 
 express or presumed consent of the deponent (Art 1929). — •
 
 80 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 For example, if a library lias been left in my trust, it may be 
 presumed that the deponent would not object to my using it ; 
 but if the trust consists in valuable jewelry, it can be only by 
 the express wish of the deponent that I could wear it. The 
 difference is simple and easily understood. 
 
 4. The depositary should not seek to know Avhat the things 
 deposited with him are, if they have been left with him in a 
 closed trunk or a sealed envelope (Art. 19-31). 
 
 5. The depositary must return the identical thing he has 
 received. Thus the trust consisting in specie, must be returned 
 in the same specie. 
 
 The obligation to restore the thing deposited in kind, and 
 such as it was when delivered, is evident, and constitutes the 
 very essence of the trust. 
 
 However, we should take into account the following cir- 
 cumstances : 
 
 1. The depositary is not held responsible in cases of insuper- 
 able accidents (Art. 1929). 
 
 2. The depositary is only held to return the things deposited 
 with him, in the state wherein they are at the moment of 
 restitution. Deteriorations, through no fault of his, are at the 
 expense of the deponent (Art. 19.35). 
 
 Such are the obligations of the depositary ; as to those of 
 the deponent, they resolve themselves into the following rule : 
 
 The deponent is held to reimburse the depositary for any 
 expense he may have incurred in the keeping of the trust, ami 
 to idemnify him for any loss the trust may have occasioned 
 him (Art. 1947). 
 
 43. Possession in good faith.— Possession in good faith is 
 analogous to trust. In fact, he who possesses in good faith a 
 thing that is not his, is in reality but a depositary, but he is 
 so without knowing it. Hence analogies and differences 
 between these two cases, which it is well to point out. 
 
 The following are some rules proposed on this subject by 
 Grotius (I)e la paix et de la guerre, B. 11, ch. xii., §3) ; and 
 Pulfendorf (Droit de la Xature et des Gens, B. iv., ch. xiii.,
 
 DUTIES CONCERXIXG THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 81 
 
 § 12). But as these rules appeared excessive to other juris- 
 consults, we give theui here rather as joroWe?«s than solutions: 
 
 1. A possessor in good faith is not obliged to restore a thing 
 which, against his wish, has come to be destroyed or lost, for 
 his good faith stood to him in lieu of property. 
 
 2. A possessor in good faith is held to return not only the 
 thing itself, but also its fruits still existing in kind. 
 
 3. A possessor in good faith is held to return the thing 
 itself, and the value of the fruit thereof which he has con- 
 sumed, if there is reason to believe that he would have other- 
 wise consumed as many similar ones. 
 
 4. A possessor in good faith is not held to return in kind 
 the value of the fruit he has neglected to gather or to grow. 
 
 5. If a possessor in good faith, having received the thing as 
 a present, should afterwards give it to another, he is not 
 obliged to return it, unless he would otherwise have given one 
 of the same value. 
 
 6. If a possessor in good faith, having acquired a thing by 
 an onerous title, shoidd afterwards dispose of it in some way 
 or other, he need return but the gain it procured him. 
 
 It is necessary to remark here that in this matter morality 
 .should be more severe than the strict law : for if morality 
 demands that a possessor be above all mindful of the rights 
 of others, the law should also consider the rights of him who 
 in good faith and ignorance enjoys what belongs to others. 
 Hence, an essential difference between this case and tliat of 
 the trust. 
 
 44. Things lost. — Tbe question of things lost is related to 
 that of possession in good faith. If the thing lost should fall 
 into my hands by a regular acquisition, by purchase, contract, 
 etc. (as, for instance, buying a horse in the market), it is evi- 
 dent that this case comes under possession in good faith, and 
 that it is the business of the law to decide between proprietor 
 and possessor. But if I appropriate to myself the thing lost, 
 knowing it to be lost, and consequently not mine, there is 
 fraud and converting to my own use the property of othera
 
 82 ELEMENTS OF MORALS, 
 
 Public opinion was for a long time indulgent towards this kind 
 of appropriation. It seemed that luck gave a certain title to 
 property. The difficulty, moreover, of finding the true owner, 
 seemed to give to lum who had found the object a certain right 
 to it. But to-day society plays the part of intermediary, and 
 assumes the duty of restoring the thing lost to its owner. It 
 is, therefore, to the authorities the object must be returned.* 
 
 For a long time a misjudgment of the same kind allowed 
 wreckers a pretended right to the objects thrown on the strand 
 by the tempest following a wreck. 
 
 45. Sale. — Sale is a contract by which one of the parties 
 engages to deliver a thing, and the other to pay for it (Civ. 
 Code, Art. 1982). There are, then, two contracting parties— the 
 seller and the buyer. They are subject to different obligations. 
 
 Obligations of the se?/er.— The seller is held clearly to 
 explain what he engages to do. An obscure and ambiguous 
 agreement is interpreted against the seller (Civ. Code, Art. 
 1602). Such is the general and fundamental obligation of 
 a sale. It implies, moreover, two others, more particular : 
 1, that of delivering ; 2, that of guaranteeing the thing sold. 
 
 The first is very simple, and raises only questions of fact, 
 as in regard to delays, expenses of removal, etc, ; it is the 
 business of the law to regulate these details. 
 
 The guaranty, in a moral point of view, is of greater 
 importance. The two essential principles in this matter are 
 expressed by the Code in the following terms : 
 
 1. The seller is held to his guaranty in proportion to the 
 concealed defects of the thing sold, rendering it improper for 
 the use for which it was destined, or so diminishing this use, 
 that the buyer would not have bought it, or would not have 
 given so much for it, had he known of these defects. 
 
 * " Things lost cannot give rise to an action for theft, when the finder, after 
 having looked for their proprietor in vain, and only retained them when his 
 researches proved fruitless, has ascertained that the proprietor will not present 
 himself. But if the thing has l)een taken with the intention of appropriating it, 
 if it has an owner, although unknown, there is no doubt about the delinquency." 
 (Faustin-Helie, Droit pinal, iv. edit., Legon v., p. CO.)
 
 DUTIES CONCEKNING THE PSOPERTY OF OTHERS. 83 
 
 2. The seller is not held to the oln'ious defects which the 
 buyer may have been able to see himself. 
 
 It is to this question of guaranteeing the thing sold, that 
 the conscience-case mentioned by Cicero, in his treatise on 
 Duties, is applicable : 
 
 An honest man puts up for sale a house, for defects only known to 
 him ; this house is unhealthy and passes for health}' ; it is not known 
 that there is not a room in it where there are no serpents ; the timber 
 is bad and threatens ruin ; but the master alone knows it. I ask if 
 the seller who should not say anything about it to the buyers, and 
 should get for it much more than he has a right to expect, would do a 
 just or unjust thing. "Certainly he would do wrong," says Antipater ; 
 "is it not, in fact, leading a man into error knowingly?" Diogenes, 
 on the contrary, replies : " Were you obliged to buy ? You were not 
 even invited to do so. This man put up for sale a house that no longer 
 suited him, and you bought it because it suited you. If any one should 
 advertise : Fine country-house well built, he is not charged with deceit, 
 even though it was neither the one nor the other. And whilst one is 
 not responsible for what he says, you would make one responsible for 
 what he does not say ! What would be more ridiculous than a seller ' 
 who would make known the defects of the thing he puts up for sale ? 
 What more absurd than a public crier who, by order of his master, 
 should cry : " Unhealthy house for sale ! " 
 
 Despite Diogenes' railleries, Cicero decides in favor of 
 Antipater and the more rigorous solution. The truly honest 
 man, he says, is he who conceals notliing. 
 
 If it is a fault not to reveal the defects of the thing sold, it 
 is a still graver one, and one which becomes a fraud, to ascribe 
 to it qualities or advantages it has not. Cicero cites on this 
 subject a charming and well-known anecdote. 
 
 The Roman patrician, C. Canius, a man lacking neither in personal 
 attractions nor learning, havmg gone to Syracuse, not on business, but 
 to do nothinij,* as he expressed it, said everywhere that he wished to 
 buy a pleasure-house, to which he might invite his friends, and amuse 
 himself ^rith them away from intruders. Upon this report, a certain 
 Pythius, a Syracuse banker, came to tell him that he had a pleasure- 
 house which was not for sale, but which he offered him and begged him 
 
 * The play in Latin is on the words otiandi and iiegotiandi. — Translator.
 
 g4 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 to use as his own, inviting him at the same time to '^'^V^^^ ^^'f'^^ 
 day. Canius having accepted, Pythius, who m his quahty of bankei 
 had much influence among people of all professions, assembled some 
 fishermen, requesting them to go Ashing the next day in front of la 
 pleasure-house, giving them his orders. Canius did not ^-1 to pres^^ 
 Lmself at the supper hour. He found prepared ^^f ^'"^.'"J^; ; 
 and a multitude of boats before the grounds of h^^^^'^^V/^.^^ "?.' "^ 
 fishermen brought the fish he had caught, and threwthem at Pythms f ee t 
 CaSuswonderll: '< What means this, Pythius ^ ^o- 1 so many hsl. 
 here and so many boats ! " "Nothing to wonder at, sajs Pjthius , 
 '111' the fish of Syracuse come up here. It is he.e the fishermen com 
 for water. They could not do without this house. Camus then 
 bedes excited ; he presses, solicits Pythius to sell him the house. 
 SSus first holds back, but at last gives in. _ The ^^J^^ 
 gives him all he asks for it, and buys it all furnished The fontract s 
 flrawnup, and the bargain concluded. The "^t day Canius inut 
 his friends, and comes himself early in the morning ; but not a boa 
 in si.ht. He inquires of the first neighbor if it was a ho iday with the 
 fishermen, that he did not see any about. "Not that I k-w 
 renlied the neighbor ; "but they never come this way, and I did not 
 know see Lrfhem .Yesterday, Aat it all meant." Canius was no less 
 t^^i^I^aTt than surprised. But what remedy J AquilUus, my col eague 
 and friend, had not yet established his formulas on fraudulent acts. 
 
 46 The price in selling. -H we adhere to the principles 
 of political economy, the price in selling is entirely free : it 
 depends exclusively upon the agreement between ttre vender 
 and the buyer, and as it is said, on the relation^ between he 
 supply and demand. Nothing more unjust than the inter- 
 vention of the law in commercial relations. .1^ the buyer 
 buys at such or such a price, however high, it is that he stil 
 finds it to his interest to buy even at that rate. If the vende 
 sells at such or such a price, however low, it is that he canno 
 .et more, and that it suits him rather to sell at that price than 
 
 keep the thing. , . ^ . , ,, ^ 
 
 It is then certain that the value of things being wholly 
 relative, it is impossible to determine in an absolute manner 
 what may be called the just price; for that depends on 
 the frequency and rarity of the tlung, on the market, on 
 
 • De 0,flkiis, Book III., di. xiv.
 
 DUTIES CONCERXIXG THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 85 
 
 the wislies of the buyer, and the thousand continually vary- 
 ing circumstances. In short, the sale taking place when one 
 Avishing to sell and one wishing to buy, meet each other, it 
 seems that their accord is a proof that the two interested 
 parties have come to an understanding. There would, accoi'd- 
 ing to that, never be any unjust sale or purchase. "We must 
 consequently consider the definition of commerce given by the 
 socialist, Ch. Fourier : " Commerce is the art of buying for 
 three cents what is worth six, and selling for six what is worth 
 three," not only as satirical and hyperbolical, but also as 
 unjust and anti-scientific ; for we cannot say whether a thing 
 is in itself absolutely worth six cents or three cents. 
 
 Does it follow, however, that there can never be any injus- 
 tice in sale or purchase 1 If there is no absolute price, there 
 is a medium price resulting from the state of the market, 
 i^ow, the buyer may not know this medium price ; and it is 
 an injustice on the part of the seller to take advantage of this 
 ignorance to sell above tliat. The same in the case of the 
 vender's not knowing the price of the thing he has for sale, 
 which the buyer appropriates, paying for it below its real value. 
 
 Besides, wliilst admitting that the prices are free, and that 
 the law cannot intervene between vender and buyer, it is, 
 however, necessary to admit that there is a certain moderation 
 beyond Avhich injustice begins, if not in a legal, at least in a 
 moral point of view. But it is for particular circumstances 
 to determine this limit ; and there is no general rule for it. 
 It is a case where not strict justice, but equity is just. 
 
 47. Violation of the property of others. — Theft.— In 
 general, every kind of violation of property under one form 
 or another, is colled theft, and this action is condemned hy 
 morality. It is expressed by that ancient commandment : 
 Thou shalt not steal. 
 
 The following are the various definitions of theft given by 
 the jurists : " By theft is meant every illegal usurpation of 
 the property of others." - — " By theft is meant every fraudulent 
 
 * DeHTiition of the oancn law.
 
 g(j ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 carrying off for gain a tiling belonging to others " * FinaUy 
 our Code declares that, " whosoever has fraudulently earned 
 off anything that does not belong to him, is guilty of thett. 
 (Penal Code, Art. 379.) 
 
 it takes, then, three elements to constitute theft: 1, can y^ 
 ingoff; 2,fraud; 3,thetMngofa7iother. 
 
 Two kinds of theft are distinguished : the dmjale thefts and 
 
 the qualified thefts. 
 
 The first are those in which are met the three preceding 
 elements, but without any further aggravating circumstance. 
 The second (qualified thefts) are those which to the three pre- 
 ceding elements add some aggravating circumstances. ihese 
 circumstances are : 1, the quality of the agents (servants, inn- 
 keepers, drivers or boatmen). 
 
 It is clear that this is an aggravating circumstance by reason 
 of the facility given by the more intimate relations m which 
 they stand with the injured persons, and the greater confidence 
 these are obliged to grant them. 
 
 2 Times and places.-Yov example, thefts comniitted by 
 ni.ht are more grave than those committed by day because 
 it is more difficult to anticipate them, to catch their per- 
 petrators, and because they place the injured person m greater 
 dan-er The places that aggravate theft are: 1, the fields ; 
 ■2, Mited houses; 3, edifices consecrated to divme wor- 
 ship" 4, highways, ete. It is easy to understand why these 
 diffe;ent places aggravate the crime by rendering it more easy 
 3 Oircmnstances of execution, as for example: 1, tneit 
 committed by ...^aZ persons ; 2, theft by Irrealang open ; 
 3, theft with an armed hand, etc. 
 
 In a word, theft becomes greater in proportion to the diili- 
 culty of forestalling it, and its menacing character. 
 
 One particular form of theft is swindling. Swindling i a 
 sort of theft, since it is a fraudulent appropriation of the 
 thine, of another. But it is characterized by the fact that it 
 does°not take place through violence, but through cunmng, 
 
 * Digest, \l., §3, VeFuriis.
 
 DUTIES CONCERNING THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 87 
 
 anil ill deceiving the victim by fraudulent maneuvers ; for in- 
 stance, in making him believe in the existence of false enter- 
 prises, in an imaginary power or credit, in calling forth the 
 hope and fear of a cliimerical event, etc. 
 
 Emhezzlement is a sort of swindling, with this difference, 
 that " if the criminal has betrayed the confidence which has 
 been placed in him, he has not solicited this confidence by 
 criminal maneuvers." Among these may be classed : 1, taking 
 improper advantage of the wants of a minor ; 2, misuse of 
 letters of confidence ; 3, embezzlement of trusts ; 4, the al> 
 straction of documents produced in court. 
 
 "We have to point out still several other kinds of theft : for 
 example, theft at gambling or cheating ; theft of public moneys 
 or peculation, etc. 
 
 In one word, under whatever form it may be concealed, 
 misappropriation of another's goods is always a theft. In 
 popular opinion it often seems, as if theft really takes place 
 only when the criminal takes violent possession of another's 
 property. Very often a few false appearances suffice to con- 
 ceal to the eyes of easy consciences the hatefulness and 
 shamefulness of fraudulent spoliations. One who would 
 scruple to take a piece of money from the purse of another, 
 may have no scruple in deceiving stockholders Avith fictitious 
 advertisements, and appropriate capital by fraudulent man- 
 euvers. Theft thus committed on a large scale is still more 
 culpable, perhaps, than the act of him who, through Avant, 
 ignorance, hereditary vices, never knew of any other means 
 of living than l)y theft. 
 
 48. Restitution. — He who has taken possession of any- 
 thing tliat belongs to another, or retains it for any cause, is 
 held to restitution as a reparation of his fault. This restitu- 
 tion must be made as soon as possible ; otherwise it is neces- 
 sary to obtain an extension of time from the injured person. 
 If the thing has been lost, restitution should no less be made 
 under some form of compensation. Restitution is independent 
 of the penalty attached to the damage and fault.
 
 88 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 49. Promises and contracts. — We have seen above that 
 it is ail absolute obligation for man to use language only so as 
 to express the truth. Hence every word given becomes 
 essentially obligatory. But it is as yet only a duty of the 
 man towards himself. We have to see wherein and how the 
 Avord given may become a duty towards others. This is the 
 case with promises and contracts. 
 
 Promises. — A promise is the act whereby one gives his 
 word to another either to give him something or do something 
 for him. 
 
 According to jurists, a promise is obligatory only Avhen 
 accepted by him to whom it is made. 
 
 Pollicitation {^xonA'iQ) says Pothier,* produces no obligation properly 
 so called, and lie who has made such a promise may, as long as that 
 promise has not been accepted by him to whom it was made, revoke it ; 
 for there can be no obligation without a right acquired by the person 
 to whom it has been made and against the one under obligation. Now, 
 as I cannot of my own free will, transfer to any one a right over my 
 property, if his own will does not concur with mine in accepting it ; so 
 I cannot, by my promise, grant any one a right over my person, until 
 that one's will concurs Avith mine in acquiring it by the acceptance of 
 my promise. 
 
 It may be true that in strict law, and from the standpoint of 
 positive law, the promise may be obligatory only and capable 
 of enforcement Avhen it has been accepted, and accepted in an 
 obvious and open way ; but in natural law and in morality, the 
 promise is obligatory in itself. Of course, it is understood that 
 the promise bears on something advantageous to him to whom 
 we make it ; for if I promise some one a thrashing, it cannot be 
 maintained that I am obliged to give it to him ; and if he to 
 whom I make the promise will not receive what I offer, I am 
 by that very fact relieved from my promise ; for one cannot give 
 anything to another against his will ; I am under no obligation 
 to him Avho will not receive anything from me. But if the 
 promise bears on something advantageous to any one, I am 
 obliged to keep it without asking myself whether he to whom 
 
 * Traiti des obligations, Part I., ch. i., § 2.
 
 DUTIES CONCERXING THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 89 
 
 I made it, is disposed to accept it ; presuming still that he 
 will accept it. It is therefore not the explicit acceptance of a 
 thing that renders the promise obligatory ; it is the explicit 
 refusal which relieves one of the promise ; and together with 
 that it would be necessary that the refusal be absolute and 
 not contingent ; for even then the promise may remain obliga- 
 tory, at least in its general principles, while undergoing some 
 modification in the execution. 
 
 Is one obliged to keep his promise when the fulfillment of 
 it is mjurious to those to whom it was made ? " No," says 
 Cicero ; for example : 
 
 Sol had promised Pliaethon, his son, to fulfil all his wishes. Phae- 
 thon wished to get on the chariot of his father ; he got his wish, but at 
 the same instant he was struck with lightning. It would have been 
 better for him had his father not kept his promise. May we not say 
 the same of the one Theseus claimed of Neptune ? This god having 
 made him the promise to grant him three wishes, Theseus wished for 
 the death of his son Hippolytus, whom he suspected of criminal love.* 
 How bitter the tears he shed when his wish was accomplished ! "What 
 shall we say of Agamemnon ? He had made a vow to immolate the 
 most beautiful object in his kingdom ; this was Iphigenia ; and he im- 
 molated her ; this cruel action was worse than perjury. 
 
 The truth of this doctrine cannot be contested. However, 
 it is necessary to understand this exception in the strictest 
 sense, and not to seek in the pretended interest of the person 
 one obliges, a pretext to change one's mind. For example, 
 if you have promised any one a post wliich he accepts and 
 desires, you cannot.be allowed to relieve yourself of it, by 
 supposing that the post will in reality be a disadvantage to 
 him, and that you will give him a better one another time. 
 
 Some other exceptions are pointed out by the moralists and 
 jurists ; for example : 
 
 1. jSlecessity relieves of all promise. If, for example, I 
 have promised to go to a meeting and am kept in bed by a 
 serious illness, it is impossible for me to go, and hence I am 
 reHeved of my promise. 
 
 * See Racine's tragedy of Phedre.
 
 90 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 2. One is not obliged to perform illicit acts : " for," says 
 Puflfendorf, " it would be a contradiction, to be held by civil 
 or moral law, to perform things which the civil or moral law 
 interdicts. It is already doing wrong to promise illicit things, 
 and it is doing wrong twice to perform them." * 
 
 3. One cannot promise what belongs to another : for I can- 
 not promise what I cannot dispose of. ' 
 
 50. Contracts. — A contract is an agreement by which one 
 or several persons engage to do or not to do a certain thing 
 for one or several others. (Code Civ., Art. 1101.) 
 
 Conditions of the contract (Art. 1108). — Four conditions 
 are necessary to constitute a valid and legitimate agreement : 
 
 1. The consent of the parties. 
 
 2. The capacity of the contractors. 
 
 3. A sure object as a basis for the contract. 
 
 4. A licit cause in the obligation. 
 
 (1). The consent. — The consent is the voluntary acceptance 
 of the charges implied in the contract. It is express or im- 
 plied : express, when it is made manifest by words, writing, or 
 any other kind of expressive signs. It is implied, when, 
 without being expressed by outward signs, it may be deduced, 
 as a manifest consequence of the very nature of the thing, 
 and other circumstances. 
 
 AU consent presupposes, 1, the use of reason: the insane 
 cannot contract any obligation ; children neither ; t 2, neces- 
 sartj Imowledge. Therefore all real consent excludes error, 
 at least " when it falls on the very substance of the thing 
 which is its object." J It is, besides, for the jurists to 
 define with precision what is to be understood by error in 
 matter of contract ; 3, the liberty of the contracting parties : 
 
 * ruffeiKlorf, Of the Duties of Man and the Citizen, ii., c. ix., § 18. 
 
 t In the United States children can, in the case of neglect by their parents, mai;e 
 contracts which anj obligatory for whatever is necessary for them. 
 
 X Our Code does not admit that a mistake touching the person, vitiates the con- 
 sent of the contractors, unless this consideration be the principal cause of the agree- 
 ment.
 
 DUTIES COXCEEDflKG THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS. 91 
 
 \vlience it follows that consent extorted by constraint and 
 violence is not valid. 
 
 (2.) The capaciiij to make a contract is deduced from the 
 foregoing principles. All those who are not supposed to be 
 able to give an intelligent and free consent, are incapable and 
 cannot make contracts : for instance, persons under age, per- 
 sons interdicted, insane or idiots, etc. 
 
 (3.) The matter of a contract — "■All contract has for its 
 object something that a certain party engages to give, or do or 
 not do." It is evident that a contract without subject-matter 
 and bearing on nothing, is void, and does not exist. 
 
 (4.) The cause of the contract must be real and legal. 
 Contracts are subject here to the same rules as are promises. 
 
 The preceding distinctions are all borrowed from the civil 
 law ; but they express no less principles of justice and equity 
 which may be resolved into the following rules : 
 
 1. Xo one should take by surprise or extort a consent 
 through artifice or violence. 
 
 2. No one shoidd make a contract M'ith one whom he knows 
 to be incapable of understanding the value of the engage- 
 ment he is called upon to make : for example, with one under 
 age, incapable before the law, but of whom it is known that 
 the parents will pay the debts ; or with one feeble-minded, 
 though not yet an interdicted })erson, etc. 
 
 3. No one shoidd contract a fictitious engagement bearing 
 on matters non-existing, or such as have only an imaginary or 
 illegal cause. 
 
 Interiirdation of contracts.— Z\msX& give the following rules 
 regarding the interpretation of obscure clauses in contracts. 
 The rules which are to guide the judge in regard to the law 
 are the same as those which are to enlighten the consciences 
 of the interested parties : 
 
 " 1. One should, in agreements, find out the mutual inten- 
 tion of the contracting parties, rather than stop at the literal 
 sense of the words." (Art. 1156.) 
 
 " 2. A^Hien a clause is susceptible of a double meaning, one
 
 93 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 should imJerstand it in the sense in which it may have some 
 effect, rather than in the one in which it would not have 
 any." (Art. 1157.) 
 
 " 4. That which is amhiguous is to be interpreted by what 
 is customary in the country where the contract is made." 
 (Art. 1159.) 
 
 " 5. One should supply in a contract its customary clauses, 
 though they be not therein expressed." (Art. 1160.) 
 
 " 6. All the clauses of agreements are to be interpreted by 
 one another, giving each the sense which results from the en- 
 tire document." (Art. 1161.) 
 
 "7. If doubtful, the agreement is to be interpreted against 
 the stipulator, and in favor of him Avho contracted the obliga- 
 tion." (Art. 1162.)
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY AXD TOWAPDS THE 
 HOXOR OF OTHERS. — JUSTICE, DISTEIEUTIVE AND EE- 
 ilUNERATIVE ; EQUITY. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 Liberty in genera!.— Xatural rights. 
 
 Slavery. — Arguments of J. J. Rousseau against slaver}', servitude; op- 
 pression of work under diveis forms. 
 
 The honor of others. — Backbiting and slander. 
 
 Rash judgments.— Analysis of a treatise of Nicole. — Envy; ran cur ; 
 
 delation. 
 
 J jstioe, distributive and remunerative. — To each according to his 
 merits and his works. Equity. 
 
 Afteu self-preservation, tlie most sacred prerogative of man 
 is liberty — that is to say, the right of using his faculties, both 
 physical and moral, without injury to others, at his OAvn risks 
 and perils, and on his own responsibility. 
 
 51. Liberty— Natural rights. — The word liberty sums up 
 all that is understood by the natural rights of man, namely, 
 the right to go and come, or individual liberty ; the right to 
 use his physical faculties to stipply his wants, or liberty of 
 work ; the right to exercise his intelligence and reason, or 
 liberty of thought ; the right to honor God according to his 
 lights, or liberty of conscience ; the right to have a family, a 
 wife and children, or the family right, and finalh' the right 
 to keep what he has acquired, or the right of property. 
 
 52. Slavery. — The privation of all these rights, of all 
 these liberties in an individual, is called slavery. Slaver}' is 
 the suppression of the huiuau personality. It consists in
 
 Q^ ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 t.ans£o™mg maa into a «,»,, It takes away torn hto the 
 ri.ht of property and makes of li.mself a propert.j Tli« ^'"^^ 
 WM and sold as a thing. The fruits o hrs lata do no 
 eloT^to hm. ; he cannot come and go at w^ ■ he can ne.^« 
 think nor believe freely ; in some countries he s mterdicted 
 the ri<.ht of instructmg Irimself ; he has no famdy, or has one 
 temporarily only, since his wife or children may be separately 
 Sand'since the women belong to their masters as the.r 
 property, there is no bridle against the license of P«s 
 ' llth^igh slavery is at the present day well-mgh ahohshed 
 in the world. stiU as it is not yet wholly so, and as this abo- 
 lition is qu te recent, and tends constantly to be renewed 
 nder one form or another, it is important to sum up the 
 principal reasons that show the immorality and .rnqudy of 
 
 this institution. _ nnn<;QPau 
 
 53. Refutation of slavery --Opinion of J.J. oous.eau 
 
 __J J. Rousseau, m kis Contrat Socud (L, iv.), combated 
 
 slavery with as much profundity as eloquence. Let us sum 
 
 n^^ his arc^uments with a few citations : ,, , 
 
 ' 1 Sbverv cannot arise from a contract between the master 
 and the sWe ; for to consent to slavery is to renounce one s 
 manhood, of which no one can dispose at his will. 
 Toreooanceone.H..yi3tor»oa„eeo„e.^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 of hnmamty, even »"" ''""'J^ Jf^'^tn^ciatioii is i„con,patible with 
 
 Nvill of all liberty. 
 
 2. Such a contract is contradictory, for the -1-™ SJ^S 
 himself whoUy and without reserve, can receive nothing m 
 
 return. 
 
 It is a vain and contradictory agreenient to stipulate an absolute au- 
 
 a r II 1 1 demand everything? and does not this -gl-^f -^;; ^
 
 DUTIES TOWAKDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 95 
 
 to me, ami that his right being my own, this my right against myself 
 is a word without any sense. 
 
 3. Even if one had the right to sell one's self, one has not 
 the right to sell one's children. Slavery at least should not 
 be hereditary. 
 
 Admitting that one could alienate himself, he could not alienate his 
 children ; they are born men and free ; their liberty is their own ; no 
 one has a right to dispose of it but themselves. 
 
 Before they have reached the age of reason, their father maj", in their 
 name, stipulate conditions for their welfare, but not give them irrev- 
 ocably and unconditionally over to another ; for such a gift is contrary 
 to the ends of nature, and passes the rights of paternity. 
 
 4. Slavery, furthermore, comes not from the right of killing 
 in war ; for this right does not exist. 
 
 The conqueror, according to Grotius, having the right to kill tlie 
 conquered enem}', the latter may ransom his life at the expense of his 
 liberty : an agreement all the more legitimate, as it turns to the profit 
 of both. 
 
 But it is clear that this pretended right to kill the conquered adver- 
 sary does not result in any way from the state of war. . . . One has a 
 right to kill the defenders of the enemy's State as long as they hold to 
 their arms ; but when they lay these down and surrender, and cease to 
 be enemies, they become simply men again, and one has no longer a 
 right on their life. 
 
 If war does not give the conqueror the right of massacring the con- 
 quered, it does not give him the right of reducing them to slavery. . . . 
 The right of making of the enemy a slave, does not then follow the 
 right of killing him ; it is then an iniquitous exchange to make him 
 buy his life at the price of his liberty, over which one has no right 
 whatsoever. 
 
 Montesquieu has also combated slavery ; but he has done 
 it under a form of irony, which gives still greater force to his 
 eloquence. 
 
 " If I had to defend the right we have had to make slaves 
 of the negroes, this is what I should say : 
 
 "The peoples of Europe having exterminated those of
 
 96 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 
 
 America, they were obliged to reduce to slavery those of 
 Africa in order to use them to clear the lands. 
 
 " Sugar would be too dear if the plant that produces it 
 were not cultivated by slaves. 
 
 " Tlie people in question are black from head to foot, and 
 they have so flat a nose that it is almost impossible to pity 
 them. 
 
 " One cannot conceive that God, who is a being most wise, 
 could have put a soul, and above all a good soul, in so black 
 a body. 
 
 " It is impossible for us to suppose that these people are 
 men ; because if we supposed them to be men, one might 
 begin to think we are not Christians ourselves. 
 
 " Xarrow minds exaggerate too much the injustice done to 
 Africans. For if it were as they say, would it not have come 
 to the minds of the princes of Europe, who make so many 
 useless contracts among each other, to make a general one in 
 favor of mercy and of pity?"* 
 
 54. Servitude-^Restrictions of the liberty to work- 
 Oppression of children under age, etc. — Absolute slavery 
 existed in antiquity, and has particularly reappeared since 
 the discovery of America, owing to the difference of the races : 
 the black race being, seemingly, particularly adapted to the 
 cultivation of the torrid zones, and endowed with great phys- 
 ical vitality, became the serving-race par excellence; it has 
 even been hunted down for purposes of procreation; hence 
 that infamous traffic, called slave trade, and which is to-day 
 interdicted by all civilized countries. 
 
 But there existed in the Middle Ages, and has subsisted 
 even to these days, in Eussia, for example, a relative slavery, 
 less rigorous and odious, but which, though circumscribed 
 within certain limits, was not the less a grave outrage to 
 liberty. The serf was allowed a family, and even a certain 
 
 * Esprit des Lois, XV., iv. The stipulations wliich Montesquieu demanded have 
 Ijccn made, and have led to the suppression, or at least to a great diminution, of the 
 slave-trade.
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 97 
 
 amount of money ; but the ground which he cultivated could 
 never belong to hira ; and above all he could not leave this 
 ground, nor make of his work and services the use he wished. 
 It was certainly less of an injustice than slavery; but it was 
 still an injustice. However, this injustice exists to-day no 
 longer than as an historical memory. Morality has no longer 
 anything to do with it. 
 
 It is the same with the restrictions formerly imposed on 
 the freedom of work under the old administration {anden 
 regime), the organization of maUrises and jarandes* namely, 
 and that of corporations ; the work was under regulations : 
 each trade had its corporation, which no one could enter or 
 leave without permission. No one was allowed to encroach 
 upon his neighbor's trade ; the barbers defended themselves 
 against the wig-makers ; the bakers against the pastry-cooks ; 
 hence much that was wrong, and which those who regret this 
 administration have forejotten. 
 
 But here again, it is the object of history to inquire into 
 the good or the evil of these institutions ; and these questions 
 belong rather to political economy than to morals. 
 
 It is not the same regarding the abuse made of the work of 
 children and minors, or the work of woinen. Severe laws 
 have forbidden such ; but it is always to be feared that man- 
 ners get the better of the laws. The work of children and 
 women being naturally cheaper than the work of men and 
 adults, one is tempted to make use of it ; but the work of 
 children is improper because it is taking advantage of and 
 using up beforehand a constitution not yet established, and 
 also because it is thus depriving children of the means of 
 l)eing educated. As to girls and women, in abusing their 
 strength, one compromises their health, and contributes thereby 
 to the impoverishment of the race. 
 
 * By maUrise was understood tlie rank or degree of master ; and jurandcf was the 
 name of an annual office by means of wliich the affairs of the corporation were 
 administered : it also meant the assembly of workmen, wlio had lent the customary 
 oath. 
 
 5
 
 98 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 Among the violations the liberty of Avork may suffer, we 
 must not forget the threats and violences exercised by the 
 workers themselves and inflicted upon eacli other. It is not 
 rare, in fact, in times of strikes, to see the workmen who do 
 not work try to impose, by main force, their will on those 
 that are at work. Such violences, wHch have their source in 
 false ideas of brotherhood (a mistaken esp'it de corps), and in 
 a false sense of honor, constitute, nevertheless, even when 
 free from the coarse enmity of laziness and vice, waging war 
 with work and honesty — a grave violation of hberty ; and it 
 may be considered a sort of slavery and servitude to suffer 
 
 them. 
 
 It is the same with the attempts by which men try to for- 
 bid to women factory work, under pretext that it brings the 
 wages down. 
 
 This reason, in the first place, is a bad one, because the wo- 
 man's earnmgs come in the end all back to the family, increas- 
 ing by that much more the share of each. But by what right 
 shoidd work be prohibited to woman more than to man 1 Cer- 
 tainly it would be desirable if the woman coidd stay at home, 
 and busy herself exclusively with the cares of the household ; 
 but in the present state of things such an ideal is not possible. 
 It is then necessary that woman, who has, like man, her 
 rights as a moral personality, should be allowed by her every- 
 day work to make a Hving, under the protection of the laws, 
 and at her own risks and perils. 
 
 55. Moral oppression— Inward liberty and responsi- 
 bility. — The question is not only one of corporal hberty, the 
 liberty to work ; the laws in a certain measure provide for 
 that, and one can appeal to their authority for self-protection. 
 But there may exist a sort of moral bondage, which consists in 
 the subordination of one will to another. It is here that 
 the respect Ave owe to others calls for a more dehcate and a 
 more strict sense of justice : for this sort of slavery is not so 
 obvious, and the love we bear to others may be the very thing 
 to lead us into error.
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 99 
 
 56. Violation of the honor of others— Backbiting and 
 slander. — ^^mong the first rights of a man, there is one 
 sometimes forgotten, although it is one of the most essential, 
 and this is his right to honor. 
 
 In our ignorance of most men's actions, and. in all cases of 
 the real motives of these actions, it is a duty for us to 
 respect in others what we wish they should respect in us : 
 namely, our honor and our respectability. In fact, it is very 
 difficult for men to form true judgments regaixling each other. 
 For fear of committing an injustice, it is better not to judge 
 at all than to judge wrongly. 
 
 There are two ways of violating other people's honor : hach- 
 hiting and slander. Backbiting consists in saying evil of 
 others, either deservedly or undeservedly ; but when unde- 
 servedly, and especiall)' when one knoAvs it to be so, backbiting 
 becomes slander. Backbiting may arise from ill-will or 
 thoughtlessness, and slander is the work of baseness and perfid}'. 
 
 Backbiting which consists in saying evil of others de- 
 servedly, is not in itself an injustice : there is to be 
 recognized the right and jurisdiction of public opinion. 
 The honest man should be held in greater esteem than 
 the rogue, even though the latter cannot be reached by 
 the law. Nevertheless, backbiting becomes an injustice 
 through the abuse that is made of it. It is not a question 
 of severe judgments touching actions deserving blame 
 and contempt. It is a question of thoughtless and unkind 
 judgments, and which we are aU too easily and readily inclined 
 to pronounce upon others, forgetting that we deserve ourselves 
 as many and severer ones. How shall we conciliate, however, 
 the just severity Avhich vice deserves, with the spirit of kind- 
 ness which charity and brotherly love demand of us ? On the 
 one hand, an excess of kindness seems to weaken the horror 
 of evil, to put on the same level the honest man and the 
 rogue ; on the other, the habit of speaking evil weakens tlie 
 bonds of human society, sets men against each other, and is 
 always, in a certain measure, a shortcoming of sincerity ; for
 
 100 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 one liarcUy ever tells to people's faces the evil one says of 
 them in their absence. It is not easy to find the just medium 
 between these two extremes. 
 
 It may be laid down as a princ^"ple that, except the casfc 
 where notorious vices, contrary to honor, comes into question, it 
 is better absolutely to abstain from speaking evil of others. 
 For, either the question is of persons one does not know, or 
 knows imperfectly, and then one is never surenot tobemistaken ; 
 and most of the time one judges people on the testimony of 
 others only, or one speaks of persons whom one knows, and 
 with whom one stands in more or less friendly relations ; and 
 then backbiting becomes a sort of treason. Even deserved 
 blame should not be a favorite subject of conversation : it is 
 an unwholesome and ungenerous pleasure to lay any stress 
 upon the weakness of others. If, at least, one accepted with 
 it the right of others to judge us with the same severity, such 
 reciprocal liberty might prove of some utility; but the back 
 biter nowise admits that he may be himself the subject of 
 back])iting ; and at the very moment when he criticises others, 
 he would himself be very much offended if he learned that 
 the same persons had, on their side, been doing the same in 
 regard to him. 
 
 As to slander, it is not necessary to say much on the subject 
 to show to what degree it is cowardly and criminal. What 
 makes it, above all, cowardly is that it is always very difficult 
 to combat and refute slander. Often, and for a long time, it is 
 not known : at the moment when one hears of it, it has taken 
 roots which nothing can destroy. One does not know who 
 spread it, nor whom to answer. It is, besides, often impossible 
 to prove a negative tiling : namely, that one has done no harm, 
 that one has not committed such and such an action, and said 
 such or such a word. One always confronts the well-accredited 
 saying : "There is no smoke without fire." 
 
 The wrong done by slander will be better understood by 
 the description Beaumarchais has given of it : 
 
 "Slander, sir — you lianlly know how great a thing you hold in con-
 
 DUTIES TOWAEDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 101 
 
 tempt : I have seen the best of people crushed by it. Believe me, there 
 is no flat malice, no hateful story, no absurd tale which a skillful 
 mischief-maker cannot make the idlers of a large town believe. ... At 
 first, a slight report, just grazing the ground as a swallow does before 
 the storm : murmuring 2na7iissvno, and spinning away, it launches in 
 its course the poisoned arrow. A certain ear is open to take it in, and 
 it is deftly wliispered piano, piano, to the next. The harm is done ; it 
 sprouts, crawls, makes its waj' ; and rinforzando from mouth to mouth, 
 goes like wildfire ; then all at once, you scarcely know how, you see 
 the slander rise before you, whistling, blowing, growing while you look 
 at it. It starts, takes its flight, whirls about, envelops, pulls, carries 
 everything along with it, bursts and thunders, and becomes a general 
 cry, a public crescendo, a universal chorus of hatred and proscription. * 
 
 57. Rash judgments. — We call rash judgments iU-natured 
 remarks made about others Avitliout sufficient knowledge of 
 facts. It is through rash judgments one becomes often the 
 accomplice of slander, without knowing it and without wishing 
 it. Nicole, in his Ussm's de Morale, has thoroughly treated 
 the question of rash judgments. We have but to give here 
 a short resume of his Treatise on this subject. 
 
 1. Rash judgments are a usurpation of God's judgment. 
 
 Rash judgments being always accompanied by ignorance and want 
 of knowledge, are a manifest injustice and a presumptuous usurpation 
 of God's authority. 
 
 2. This sin has degrees according to the quality of its 
 object, the causes from Avhich it springs, and the effects it pro- 
 duces. 
 
 The quality of the object increases it or diminishes it, because the 
 more things are important the more is one obliged to be cii-cumspect 
 and reserved in the judgments one pronounces. t 
 
 The causes may be very different : 
 
 One falls into it sometimes simply from over-hastiness. Sometimes 
 
 ♦ Beaumareliais, BarbUr de Seville. 
 
 t Xicole does not give any examples ; but it is evident, for instance, that it is a 
 graver fault to rashly incriminate the integrity of a functionary than his incapacity, 
 the chastity of a woman than her economy.
 
 102 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 
 
 we are led into it througli the presumptuous attachment we have for 
 our sentiments. But the most ordinary source of this ignorance is the 
 maliciousness which causes us to see stains and defects in persons which 
 a single eye would never discover in them. . . . It causes us to feel 
 strongly the least conjectures, and enlarges in our eyes the slightest 
 appearances. We believe them guilty because we should be very glad 
 if they were. 
 
 The cwiseqiiences of rash judgments are sometimes terrible 
 
 and fatal. 
 
 The divisions and hatreds which disturb human society and extin- 
 guish charity come generally only from a few indiscreet words that es- 
 cape us. Moreover, we do not always confine ourselves to simple judg- 
 ments. We pass from the thoughts of the mind to the promptings of 
 the heart. We conceive aversion and contempt for those we have 
 thoughtlessly condemned, and we inspire the same sentiments m 
 
 others. . , 
 
 Eash judgments are the source of whafwe call prejudices ; or, rather, 
 prejudices are but rash judgments fixed and permanent. . . • V^^e 
 portray human beings to ourselves from the inconsiderate remarks made 
 about -them before us, and we then adjust all their other actions to the 
 ideas we have formed of them. It serves us as a key whereby to explain 
 the conduct of these persons, and as a rule for our conduct towards 
 them. 
 
 3. We are apt to delude ourselves as to the motives of the 
 judgments Ave pronounce. 
 
 The manner in which we conceal from ourselves this defect is very 
 delicate and very difficult to avoid. For it comes from the bad use ..^ 
 make of a maxim very true in itself when viewed genemlly, but jhich 
 in private we imperceptibly pervert. This maxim is, that whilst it is 
 forbidden to judge, it is not forbidden to see-that is to say to give one s 
 self up to convincing evidence. Thus, in making our judgments pass 
 for views or evidences, we shield them from all that can be said against 
 the rashness of our judgments. 
 
 To enable us to distrust this pretended evidence, it would onlj be 
 necessary to call our attention upon those whom we think guilty of rash 
 judgments in regard to us. They think as we do, that the rashest o 
 thek judgments are from observation evidently true. ^Vho then, ^^ ill 
 assure us that it is different with us, and that we are the only ones free 
 from this illusion ?
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 103 
 
 4. It is maintained that one cannot help seeing the faults 
 of others : so be it ; biit one need not make it voluntarily an 
 object. 
 
 It may be said that we cannot help but sec. But that is not true. 
 It is rare that our mind is so violently struck that it cannot help de- 
 ciding. It is generally obliged to make an effort to look at things, and 
 it is this voluntary looking at the faults of others which Christian pru- 
 dence should correct in the persons whose function it is not to correct 
 them. 
 
 5. Besides, even if we knew the evil for certain, it is not 
 for us to make it known to otliers. 
 
 Whatever evidence we may think we have of the faults of our neigh- 
 bor, Christian prudence forbids us to make these known to others when 
 it is not incumbent on us or useful so to do. . . . This exercise 
 does not only serve in regulating our speech and forestalling the conse- 
 quences of rash judgments, but it is also of infinite service in regulating 
 the mind and correcting the rashness of judgment at its very source ; 
 for one hardly ever allows one's mind to judge the faults of others, ex- 
 cept to speak about them, and if one did not speak of them, one would 
 insensibly stop trying to judge them. 
 
 6. But as it is not always possible to avoid judging, it be- 
 comes necessary to employ other remedies against the abuse 
 of rash judgments. 
 
 (a.) " The remedy for malignity is to fill one's heart with charity ; 
 to think often aliout the virtues and good qualities of others. 
 
 (b.) " The remedy against haste is to accustom one's self to judge 
 slowly and to take more time in looking at things. 
 
 (c.) "The remedy against the too strong attachment to our own sen- 
 timents is to continually remember the weakness of our minds and the 
 frequent mistakes we, as well as others, make. " 
 
 Nicole goes so far in proscribing rash judgments, that he 
 even forbids them regarding the dead (xxxv.), regarding our- 
 selves (xsxvi.), even when they have good rather than evil 
 for their object (xxxvii.), even regarding abstract maxims of 
 morality (xli.) ; and he concludes by saying that the only 
 reasonable method is silence ! We recognize here the rig-
 
 104 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 
 
 orism of the Jansenists;* It suffices to say that, as a general 
 principle, one should neither judge nor pronounce -without in- 
 vestigation ; but one must allow a little more latitude and 
 liberty than does Xicole ; for if all men agreed to keep silent, 
 human society would be nothing but a semblance, a word void 
 of sense. How could men get to love each other if they did 
 not know each other 1 And how could they know each other 
 if they did not talk to each other 1 We must, therefore, ad- 
 here to certain general principles without pretending to brmg 
 all words and thoughts under regulations. 
 
 58. Of envy and delation. — Among the vices Avhich may 
 lead to the greatest injustices, and wliich already in them- 
 selves are odious as sentiments, the most blameworthy and 
 the vilest is the passion of envy. We call envious him Avho 
 suffers from the happiness of others, him who hates others 
 because of the advantages they possess and the superiority 
 they enjoy. In the first place, this sentiment is an injustice ; 
 for the happiness of one is not the cause of another's niisfor- 
 tune ; the health of one does not make the other sick ;CVt51- 
 taire's wit is not the cause of the mediocrity of our own 
 talents ; Nbeautiful women are not answerable for the ugliness 
 of other women. Let the ill-favored one accuse nature or 
 Providence, and there will be some reason in it, though it is 
 a bad feeling ; for it is a want of resignation to a wisdom the 
 motives of which we cannot always divine ; but to accuse 
 , the favored of fortune, is a shocking baseness of the heart. 
 '\t is the hateful feature of a celebrated sect of these present 
 days ; they desire not the happiness of all, but the misfortune 
 of all. Unable to procure the same advantages to all men, 
 their ideal is general destruction. Their Utopia is just the 
 reverse of all other Utopias. These believed they could se- 
 cure to all the advantages reserved to a few. Tliis new utopia, 
 persuaded of the impossibiHty of the thing, have overthrown 
 the problem and propose to reduce the more fortunate to the 
 
 * Nicole belonged to the sect of the Jansenists, celebrated for the harshness and 
 rigidity of their morality.
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 105 
 
 wretchedness of the less happy; and as among the number of 
 heads they hit there are still some which retain a few advan- 
 tages over the others, the work of destruction will go on till 
 they shall have reached the level of universal degradation. 
 
 But, without speaking of the social envy, which has had so 
 large a share in the revolutions of our time, what we oiight 
 above all to fight against is the individual envy which each 
 of us has so much trouble in defending himself against in 
 presence of the success of his neighbor, fit is above all dan- 
 gerous when disputed goods are in question — things all can- 
 not have at the same time — and which he Avho is in the en- 
 jojTuent of them seems thereby to rob the others of : as, for 
 instance, a situation one obtains at the expense of another, be 
 it that he is more deserving of it, or more favored by fortune. 
 In the first case, one shoidd be just enough to recognize the 
 rights of others to these things, and in the second, generous 
 enough to forgive them the favors of chance. It is wanting 
 in personal dignity to begrudge men their chances and good 
 fortune ; and even were these chances undeserved, it is still 
 lowering one's self to do them the honor of envying them. 
 
 EnA'y comes close to another sentiment, less odious perhaps, 
 and less imjust, but Avhich is, nevertheless, unworthy of a 
 right-feeling man ; this is resentment, r anco r, a vindictive spirit. 
 If we are commanded to return good for good, we are, on the 
 other hand, forbidden to return evil for evil. For centuries 
 it has been said : TLye for eye and tooth for tooth. This 
 is called retaliation (lex talionis). Cliristian morality has 
 reformed this law of barbarous times. "It is written : eye 
 for eye, tooth for tooth ; but I say unto you : Love those who 
 hate you ; pray for those who persecute you and speak evil of 
 you." "Without insisting here on the love for enemies (which 
 is a duty of charity and not of justice), we wiU simply say 
 that the spirit of vengeance is even contrary to justice. Nature, 
 Avhen we have been offended, calls forth in our hearts a spon- 
 taneous emotion, which inspires in us an aversion for the 
 cause of the offense. This is a mere revolt of nature, inno-
 
 106 elejiexts of morals. 
 
 r 
 
 cent in itself, since it is the principle of tlie right of self 
 defense. But we should not yield to this thoughtless impulse ; 
 we should combat the desire to return evil for evil ; for other- 
 wise we place ourselves on a level with him whom wejhate, 
 And here again we should distinguish between anger-Sn 
 rancor. Anger is the immediate impression we receive from 
 the wrong committed, and which may induce us to return evil 
 for evil on the spot ; but rancor is hatred coldly kept up ; it 
 is the slow and calculated preparation for a revenge ; it is the 
 remembrance of wrong carefully nursed : and it is this which 
 is contrary to human dignity. Man should remember good, 
 not evil : he who is capable of hatred is worthy of hatred, and 
 would seem to have beforehand deserved the ^vrong he has 
 been made to suffer. We do not go so far as to say that 
 wrong must be pardoned as Avrong, for that would be siding 
 with injustice ; but it shoidd be pardoned to human nature, 
 because it is weak, and we are no less liable to sin than 
 others. 
 
 From these feelings of hatred, envy, rancor, coveteousness, 
 springs sometimes a vice which lowers the soul and corrupts 
 it : this is delation. To report to one the wrong done by 
 another ; to superiors the wrongs done by our colleagues ; to 
 friends the evil said of them in their absence ; to inform the 
 authorities of the presence and lodgings of an outlaw, such 
 are the faults designated by the term delation, and the essen- 
 tial characteristics of Avhich are, that they are committed with- 
 out the knowledge of the interested parties. It is evident, 
 besides, that this term can nowise be applied to functionaries 
 commissioned to watch and discover faults, or to those 
 who complain of injustice done them, and finally Avhere 
 great crimes committed against society are in question, to 
 those who, knowing the criminals, report them to the author- 
 ities. 
 
 59. Distributive and remunerating justice — Equity. — 
 ^Ul Llie acts we have thus far enumerated, and which cuusist
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 10? 
 
 in doing no wrong to others, relate to what may be called 
 negative justice.* 
 
 There is another kind of justice, more positive, which con- 
 sists, like charity, in doing good to others, not in the sense of 
 liberahty and a gift, hut as a debt ; only the question then is 
 not a material debt, which obHges to return a thing loaned, or 
 intrusted, or the venal value of that thing ; but it is a moral 
 debt in proportion to the merit and services it relates to. 
 This kind of justice, which distributes goods, advantages, 
 praises in proportion to certain efforts, capacities, virtues, is 
 what is called distributive justice, and, inasmuch as it rewards 
 services, remunerating. 
 
 Distributive justice goes into effect every time when 
 there is occasion to classify men, to distribute among them 
 offices, ranks, honors, degrees, etc. It is that which especially 
 administrators who distribute places, have to exercise ; also, 
 examiners who give diplomas, learned societies who grant 
 prizes, or take in new members ; finally, critical judges who 
 appreciate the merit of books, works of art, dramatic pro- 
 ductions. 
 
 The administrators who have to fill posts, must above all 
 consider the interests of the situation which is to be filled. 
 Favoritism should be strictly excluded : the misuse of testi- 
 monials has been often pointed out ; it is the plague of our 
 administrations. They have not always all the influence 
 attributed to them ; but it is enough that it is thought they 
 have any, to give rise to bad habits and a very serious laxity 
 of morals. They make you believe that success does not 
 wholly depend on conscientious work, and that it requires, 
 above all, the favor of the great (protections). It is, there- 
 
 * It is also called commutative justice, somewhat improperly, in taking for its 
 type the act of exchange, where one gives the equi\alent of what he receives ; but 
 this expression is only truly correct when it touclies upon property, and particularly 
 upon sale, trust, loan. But the term commutative has no longer much meaning 
 when applied to the respect due to the life, the liberty, or the honor of others. 
 Nevertheless, it is necessary to be familiar with the expression, as it is usually 
 opposed to distributii'e justice.
 
 108 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 fore, the duty of administrators to consider the merit of func- 
 tionaries only, and not their patrons. 
 
 But even this rule is far from being sufficient : for personal 
 merit is not everything ; is not the only element to be con- 
 sidered ; age, length of service, have also their value ; for, in 
 order that the State be well served, it is necessary that those 
 who work for it, should have faith in the future; shoidd 
 know that their past services will be taken account of, that as 
 they grow older and their burdens heavier, the State will 
 come to their assistance in raising their functions. Thus must 
 length of service be combined with merit and be itself a part 
 of the merit. In many administrations, the division between 
 these two elements is made by granting vacant posts half to 
 length of service, half to choice. But the choice itself depends 
 on various elements ; for personal merit is itself composed of 
 many elements : for example, which should be considered the 
 laigher, talent or work 1 A lively mind will accomplish more 
 Avork in less time ; but it may be negligent, forgetful, disor- 
 derly : a substantial mind, always ready, industrious, consci- 
 entious, offers better guarantees and more security ; yet in 
 difficult transactions, talent offers more resources. This shows 
 how many practical difficulties have to be met in the choice of 
 men. It is for experience and conscience to decide in each 
 particular case. Morality can give no general rules, except 
 negative rules : to avoid nepot?s77i, simony* guard against the 
 arbitrary, against favor, testimonials, etc. 
 
 In examinations there are the same dangers to avoid : 
 for here, also, it is unfortunately too much a general belief 
 that favoritism is the rule, and that testimonials go for 
 everything. The first duty is to set aside all personal interest, 
 worldly influence, pressure from without. But all does not 
 
 * Nepotism is the custom of advancing to desirable posts the members of one's 
 family ; simony (which has especially to do with the Church) consisted in the pur- 
 chase of the ecclesiastical functions : the term may also, by extension, be applied 
 to lay functions.
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS THE LIBERTY OF OTHERS. 109 
 
 end here ; for there remains to be seen what rule is to be 
 followed in the choice of candidates. 
 
 If the number of those who are to be elected is fixed before- 
 hand, as in contests, there is then already a great difficulty ol> 
 viated : for there is but to be determined the order of merit of 
 the candidates. But in many examinations the number is 
 not fixed. It becomes then necessary to find a just medium 
 between excess of severity and excess of indulgence. This 
 medium is generally determined through the co-operation of 
 different minds, of which some are inclined to severity and 
 others to indulgence. But one must not trust to this co- 
 operation of others to arrive at a strict justice. It is clear 
 that each, for his o'^^ti part, must fix upon a mean, and 
 endeavor to adliere to it as strictly as possible. In cases 
 where there is occasion for classification, one must, above all, 
 consider the more substantial qualities, and not allow one's self 
 to be too easily led away by mere .appearances and surface- 
 talent. 
 
 Thus, facility of speech, wdiich in itself is a merit, should 
 not have any advantage over sound learning, especially in 
 regard to f mictions where speech-making plays no part. 
 Presence of mind, ready wit, are also brilliant and precious 
 qualities, but the absence of Avhich does not always denote 
 ignorance and incapacity. 
 
 In learned or political societies, which are recruited among 
 themselves, the same principles of independence and impar- 
 tiality should always predommate, except in cases of difference 
 in circumstances. Talent is here the principal thing to go by, 
 and which should prevail ; length of service counts for notliing 
 except where the merit is equal. The interest of science in 
 learned societies, the interest of the State in political societies, 
 should be the prime considerations. 
 
 Literary or artistic criticism comes under the same rules, 
 only it has not for its object persons, but works. Here the 
 danger to be feared is not exactly favor, but good fellowship: 
 one upholds the other, the praise is mutual, and all severity
 
 110 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 is reserved for those who do not belong to the society. But, 
 whether good fellowship or favor, all privilege-preference 
 substituted for the esteem the thing should be held in for its 
 own sake, is contrary to justice. Criticism may, of course, be 
 more or less severe — more or less laudatory ; there is as much 
 impropriety in constant blame as in constant praise ; one 
 must strike as near as possible a just mean between the two, 
 and this mean may not be the same with the different critics ; 
 here comes in the part which individual temperament plays in 
 the matter. But whatever ride each may adopt for himself, 
 they must all apply it to the same end : there must be no 
 undue respect for the person, and the interest of art must 
 be alone considered.
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 A retrospect of what distinguishes justice and charity. 
 
 Duties of kindness.— The lowest degree of charity is kindness: to 
 wish others well leads to doing them good. 
 
 Civility. — Pcrsomd civility ; civility of the mind ; civility of the heart. 
 
 Modesty. — Modesty is as much a duty to others as to ourselves. 
 
 Peace among men. — Analysis of Nicole's dissertation on the means of 
 preseiiring peace avioiKj men. — Citations from Kant on society virtues. 
 
 Duties of friendship. — Citations from Aristotle and Kant. 
 
 Duties of benevolence. — Duties viinima : services which cost noth- 
 ing. — Hospitality with the ancients. 
 
 Good deeds. — Analysis of Seneca. 
 
 Duties of benefactors. — 1, The benefaction consists rather in the 
 sentiment than in the thing given ; 2, one should not trouble one's self 
 if the benefaction results in ingratitude ; 3, degrees in benefactions : 
 the necessary, the useful, the agreeable ; 4, the manner of giving is 
 often better than the gift itself ; 5, one should not reproach bene- 
 factions ; 6, benefaction consists sometimes in refusing ; 7, benefac- 
 tion should be disinterested. 
 
 Duties of the person under obligation :— 1, Not to be too greedy ; 
 2, a kindness should be accepted cheerfully ; 3, one should remember 
 a kindness. 
 
 Kant's rules regarding benevolence and gratitude. 
 
 Precautions required by benevolence : Cicero's rules. 
 
 Self-sacrifice. — Different forms of self-sacrifice : The life, the prop- 
 erty, the morality of others, etc. ; clemency ; forgiveness of injuries ; 
 love of enemies. 
 
 We have said that charity consists, above all, in doing good 
 to men, whilst justice consists in doing them no wrong. It is
 
 112 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 true, there is a positive justice, as there is a negative justice ; 
 and this positive justice consists also in doing good to men, 
 but it is a good which is due them, Avhich belongs to them by 
 right, and -which is itself an acknowledgment of that due and 
 that right. 
 
 The good done to others in the exercise of the duties of 
 charity is, on the contrary, something we take from our own ; 
 it is a (ji/t ; whilst the good done in the name of justice, is 
 always a debt. 
 
 The lowest degree of the duty of charity consists in what 
 are called duties of hlndliness. 
 
 60. Duties of kindliness. — The first step to arrive at 
 doing good to men, is to loish them well. Kindliness is the 
 road to benevolence. 
 
 Kjndliness is that disposition which induces us to give 
 others pleasure ; to rejoice over their good fortune, to make 
 them happy themselves, if not by our own kindnesses, if that 
 is not in our power, at least by outward demonstrations of 
 sjnnpathy and affection. 
 
 61. Civility. — The lowest degree of this virtue, consists in 
 using gentle and amiable manners in our intercourse Avith 
 others, in not repelling them by a gruff and unsociable disposi- 
 tion ; in. wounding no one's feelings by the affectation of con- 
 tempt and raillery, etc. This kind of surface-virtue, which is 
 confined to the outward, is what is called cirility. 
 
 Civility is the ensemble of the forms usage has established 
 to regidate the habitual and daily relations of men Avith each 
 other. It corresponds in society to the ceremonial of diplo- 
 matic life. To avoid the clashes which the rivalries of courts 
 and powers would necessarily carry with them, a code of agree- 
 ments was established which fix with precision the relations 
 of the diplomatic agents. The same in social life. Civility 
 is composed not of absolute and wholly material rules, but 
 of forms fixed in a general way, yet more or less free in 
 their application, and all the more pleasing as they are the 
 more free. These forms, often laughed at when regarded
 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACKIFICE. 113 
 
 superficially, have a serious value when we consider that they 
 express the general duty whereby peace is established and 
 maintained among men. (See Nicole, Essais de morale,'^ 
 1671.) 
 
 There is, then, in civility a principle which is essential and 
 a form which is arbitrary. Usage has every wliere established 
 tlie form of bowing, for instance ; everywhere there are con- 
 ventional expressions wherewith to greet people according to 
 their age, their sex ; but these outward manifestations vary 
 according to times and countries. 
 
 A distinction has been made between personal civility and 
 the civility of the mind and heart. Civility properly so 
 called is that of the outward manners ; but it is worth very 
 little if it is not sustained by the delicacy which says nothing 
 wounding and the true kindliness which seeks to give pleasure : 
 this is what is called civility of the mind and heart. 
 
 ' ' The most amiable natural gifts, and the talents made most supple 
 by education, change into defects and vices if they are not inspired by 
 a feeling of kindness. Suppleness, then, is nothing else than perfidy ; 
 delicacy nothing else but cunning ; this civility lavished upon every- 
 bodj- is nothing else than duplicity ... It is not enough to be a man 
 of the world ; one must also be a man of heart . . . True civility is that 
 which has its source in justice, in the respect for humanity ; it is a 
 form of charity ; it is the luxury of virtue." t 
 
 62. Modesty. — One of the most essential parts of kindness 
 is modesty. Modesty is certainly a duty we owe to ourselves ; 
 but it is also a duty we owe to others. Nothing more fatigu- 
 ing than people who bring everything back to themselves, 
 and can speak of nothing but themselves. It is not by aj)- 
 pearing satisfied with your own accomplishments, but in 
 having others satisfied with them, that you will please ; and 
 they will never find you more charming than when, completely 
 forgetting yourself, you will be only occupied with them. To 
 
 ♦ We give on the next page an analysis of this Essay. 
 
 t Jouffret, De la polltcsse (A Lecture at the distrllutloti of prizes at the Tournon 
 Lyceum, Tournon. 1S80).
 
 114 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 succeed in making them satisfied with themselves, is the true 
 means of having them satisfied Avith you. 
 
 Among remarkable instances of modesty often cited, are 
 those of Turenne and Catinat. The latter having sent in a 
 report of the battle of Marsaglia, had so totally forgotten to 
 mention himself that some one ingenuously asked : " Was the 
 marshal present 1 " 
 
 62 (Ms). Peace among men. — " You have but a day to 
 spend on earth," says Lamennais ; " try to spend it in peace."* 
 
 Nicole has written an excellent treatise on the means of 
 preserving peace among men {Essais de morale, 1671). Let 
 us give a resume of it. 
 
 Two causes, according to Nicole, produce disunion among 
 men : either in wounding their feelings we cause them to 
 withdraw from us, or, in being wounded ourselves, we with- 
 draw from them." 
 
 Consequently, " the only means of avoiding such divisions 
 is not to wound the feelings of others, and not to feel one's self 
 wounded by them." 
 
 1. If we look into the causes which generally give offense, 
 we shall see that they may be reduced to two, which are : " to 
 contradict people in their opinions, and to oppose their pas- 
 sions." 
 
 "1. Opinions. — Men are naturally attached to their opinions, be- 
 cause they desire to rule over others : now we rule through the trust 
 that is placed in us ; it is a sort of empire to have one's opinions received 
 by others. 
 
 "For this reason, when one seeks to combat the opinions of a man, 
 one does him in some sort injury. It cannot be done without giving 
 him to understand that he is mistaken ; and he does not take pleasure 
 in being mistaken. He who contradicts another on some point, pretends 
 to more knowledge than has he whom he wishes to persuade ; he thus 
 presents to him two disagreeable ideas at the same time : one, that he 
 is deficient in knowledge, and the other that he who corrects him sur- 
 passes him in intelligence. " 
 
 One should, therefore, spare people in their opinions ; but 
 
 * Lamennais, Paroles d'un Croyant, xv.
 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 115 
 
 among these opinions there are some which must be treated 
 with more regard than others : 
 
 " They are those advanced by no one particular person of the place 
 where one may live, but which are established by universal approbation : 
 in running against sucli opinions, one appears wishing to rise above all 
 the rest." 
 
 Not that one should always scruple in conversation to show 
 that one does not approve some opinions : that would be 
 destroying society, instead of preserving it. , . . 
 
 "But it is a thing worth pointing out how one may express his sen- 
 timents so gently and agreeably that they give no offense. . . . For 
 very often it is not so much our sentiments that shock others, as the 
 proud, presumptuous, passionate, disdainful, insulting manner in which 
 we express them." 
 
 There are, then, several mistakes to be avoided : 
 
 (a) The first is msumed mperiority, that is to say an imperious man- 
 ner in the expression of one's sentiments, and which most persons resent, 
 as much because it shows a i)roud and haughty soul, as because it indi- 
 cates a domineering spirit tyrannizing over minds. 
 
 {b) The second is the decided and dogmatic manner in which an 
 opinion is given ; as if it could not be reasonably contradicted. 
 
 (<•) Vehemence does not belong to the mistakes we have just spoken 
 of. It consists in conveying the impression that one is not only 
 attached to one's sentiments from conviction, but also passionately, 
 which furnishes many people a reason for suspecting the truth of those 
 sentiments, thus inspiring in them a wholly contrary feeling. 
 
 {d) The contempt and insults which enter into disputes, are so obvi- 
 ously shocking, that it is not necessary to warn against them ; but it 
 may be well to remark that there are certain rudenesses and incivilities 
 nearly akin to contempt, although they .spring from another source. 
 Change of opinion is in itself such a hard thing, and so contrary to 
 I'ature, that we must not add to it other difficulties. 
 
 (c) Finally, /lardness, which does not so much consist in the hardness 
 o*' the terms employed as in the absence of certain softening words-, also 
 often shocks those thus addressed, because it implies a sort of indiffer- 
 ence and contempt. 
 
 2. Passions. — It is not enough to avoid contradicting peo- 
 ple's opinions, or to do so cautiously only : one must also
 
 116 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 spare their inclinations and \h.evs: passions, because otlierwise, 
 it is impossible to avoid complaints, murmurs, and quarrels. 
 
 These inclinations are of three kinds : which may be called 
 just, indifferent, and unjust. 
 
 (a) One should never really satisfy the unjust ones ; but it is not 
 always necessary to oppose them ; for it is wounding others to make 
 one's self conspicuous without particular reason. . . . One must always 
 make amends for good and evil. . . . especially when there are others 
 who could do it with better results than we. 
 
 Besides, ' ' this same rule obliges us to choose the least offensive, the 
 gentlest, the least irritating means." 
 
 {b) I call indifferent passions those the objects of which are not bad 
 in themselves, although they may be sought after with a vicious adhe- 
 sion. Now, in tliis sort of things we are at greater liberty to yield 
 to the inclinations of others : 1, because we are not their judges ; 2, 
 because we do not know whether these affections are not necessary to 
 them (leading them away from still more dangerous objects) ; 3, because 
 these sorts of affections must be destroyed with prudence and circum- 
 spection ; 4, because there is reason to fear we might do them more 
 harm in indirectly opposing their innocent passions, than we should do 
 them good in warning them against them. 
 
 (f) I call just passions, those in which we are obliged to follow others 
 by reason of some duty, although they might perhaps not be justified 
 in requiring of us sucli deference. 
 
 The peace of society resting thus on reciprocal esteem and 
 love, it is just that men should wish to be esteemed and loved, 
 and should demand outward signs of esteem and love. Upon 
 this rest the rules of civility established among men, and of 
 which we have spoken above. 
 
 II. It is not enough to avoid wounding men's feelings, one 
 should, moreover, not allow one's self to feel wounded by them, 
 wlien they themselves fail to treat us as we ought to treat 
 them. 
 
 For it is impossible to jtractico inward peace, if we are so sensitive to 
 all that may be done and said contrary to our inclinations and senti- 
 ments ; and it is even difficult to prevent the inner dis.satisfaction from 
 showing itself outwardly, and inducing us to treat those who have 
 .shocked us in a manner calculated to shock them in their turn.
 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 117 
 
 It is, then, necessary to avoid complaining of others, when 
 one has been offended by them. In fact : 
 
 . . . Let us complain of others as much as we please, we shall gen- 
 erally only embitter them the more, without coiTccting them. "We shall 
 be accounted sensitive, proud, haughty . . and if those we complain of 
 have any sort ot skill, they will give such an aspect to things that the 
 blame wUI fall back upon us. 
 
 We must then endeavor to establish our peace and quiet on our own 
 reformation and on the moderation of our passions. We cannot dispose 
 of the minds or the tongues of others. ... we are enjoined to work ou 
 ourselves and to correct our own faults. 
 
 There is nothing more useful than to suppress one's complaining and 
 resentment. It is the surest way to appease differences at their birth 
 and prevent their increase ; it is a charity we practice towards ourselves 
 by procuring to ourselves the good of patience . . . it is a charity we 
 do to others in bearing with their foibles, in sparing them the little 
 shame they have deserved, and the new faults they might commit in 
 justifying themselves. 
 
 But it is not possible for us to observe outwardly such discretion, if 
 we allow our resentment to work inwardly in all its force and violence. 
 The outward complaints come from the inward, and it is very difficult 
 to hold them back, if one's mind is full of them ; they always escape 
 and break through some opening or other. . . . We must, therefore, 
 also quench the complaints which the soul engenders. 
 
 Among the subjects of complaint which other men give us, 
 and which should be treated with contempt, Nicole points out 
 particularly : 
 
 " False judgments, slander, rudeness, negligence, reserve, or want 
 of confidence, ingratitude, disagreeable tempers, etc." 
 
 Let US merely repeat what he says of the unfavorable judg- 
 ments of others regarding us : 
 
 "There is a ridiculous oddity in this spite which we feel when we 
 hear of the unfavoralilo judgments and remarks made about us ; for one 
 must have very little knowledge of the world to suppose it generally 
 possible that they would not be made. Princes are talked against in their 
 ante-chambers ; their servants mimic them. There is nothing so com- 
 mon as to speak of the defects of one's friends and pride one's self iu 
 pointing them frankly out to others. Tliere are even occasions when
 
 118 TLEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 this ma}'- be done innocentl}'. ... It is, therefore, ridiculous to ex- 
 pect being spared. . . . for there is no time when we may not 
 be generally sure either that people talk or have talked about us 
 othervrise than we should wish. . . . We show annoyance at these 
 judgments when they are expressly reported to us. . . . yet the re- 
 port itself adds next to nothing to the matter, for before it was made 
 we ought to have been almost sure that we and our faults were unpleas- 
 antly commented on. ... If this resentment were just, one would 
 then have to be always angry, or never so, because it is unjust. But to 
 keep very quiet, as we do, though we should know that there are .people 
 laughing at us, and to be disturbed and upset when we are told what 
 we already knew, is a ridiculous foible. " 
 
 63. Social virtues — Kant's advice. — Kant has also 
 treated the duties of kindness toAvards men, under .the title of 
 Social Virtues* 
 
 " It is a duty to one's self as well as to others to carry the commerce 
 of life to the highest degree of moral perfection ; not to isolate one's 
 self ; not only to have the happiness of the world in view ideally, but 
 to cultivate the means which indirectly lead to it ; urbanity in social 
 relations, gentleness, reciprocal love and respect, affability and pro- 
 priety, thus adding the graces to virtue, for this also is a duty of 
 virtue. 
 
 ' ' These, it is true, are but external and accessory works, presenting a 
 fine appearance of virtue, which, however, deceives no one, because every 
 one knows how much to think of it. It is but a sort of small coin ; but 
 the effort we are obliged to make to bring this appearance as near to the 
 truth as possible, helps the sentiment of virtue greatly along. An easy 
 access, an amiable mode of speech, politeness, hospitality, that gentle- 
 ness in controversy which keeps off all quarrel — all these forms of socia- 
 bility are external obligations which put also the others under obliga- 
 tion, and which favor the sentiment of virtue in rendering it at least 
 amiable. 
 
 " Here arises the question to know whether one can keep up friendly 
 relations with the vicious, t One cannot avoid meeting them ; for one 
 would have to (|uit the world, and we are not ourselves competent judges 
 in respect to them. But when vice becomes a scandal — that is to say, a 
 public example of contempt of the .strict laws of duty, thus carrying 
 with it opprobrium — ^then one should stop all relations one may have had 
 
 * Kant, Doctrine de la verhi, trad. Barni, p. IGO. 
 
 ■( It is the question debated between Alceste and Philiute in the first scene of th« 
 Mi'santhrope.
 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACEIFICE. 119 
 
 heretofore with the guilty person ; for the continuation of this relation 
 woukl deprive virtue of honor, and make of it a merchandise for the use 
 of whoever were rich enough to corrupt parasites through the pleasures 
 of good living. " 
 
 64. Duties of friendship. — Besides the general duties of 
 every kind which luik us with all men, for the only reason 
 that they are men, there are particular duties imposed on us 
 toward those of our fellow-heings, to whom we are united by 
 the bonds of friendship. 
 
 The duties of friendship have been admirably known and 
 described by the ancients. We could not, therefore, treat 
 this subject better here than by briefly recalling some few 
 passages from Aristotle or Cicero. 
 
 According to Aristotle, there are throe kinds of friendship : 
 the friendship of ^j/eas?*?'?, the friendship of interest, and the 
 friendship of virtue. The latter is the only true one. 
 
 "There are three kinds of friendship. . . . The people who love 
 each other from interested motives, for tlie use they are to each other, 
 love each other, not for their own sakes, but only inasmuch as they 
 get any good or profit from their mutual relations. It is the same v/ith 
 those who only love eacli other for pleasure's sake. "WTien one loves 
 from motives of pleasure only, one really seeks nothing else but this 
 same pleasure. Such friendships are only indirect and accidental. 
 They are very easily broken, because these pretended friends do not 
 long remain the same. 
 
 " Utility, interest, have nothing fixed ; they vary from one moment to 
 another. The motive which originated the friendship disappearing, the 
 friendship disapjiears as rapidly with it. 
 
 "The perfect friendship is that of virtuous people, and who resemble 
 each other in their virtue ; for these wish each other well, inasmuch as 
 they are good ; and I add that they are good in themselves. Those 
 who wish their friends well from such a noble motive are the friends 
 par excellence. Hence it is that the friendship of such generous hearts 
 lasts as long as they remain good and virtuous themselves ; now virtue 
 is a substantial and durable thing. Each of the two friends is in the 
 first place good in himself, and he is, moreover, good to all his friends, 
 for good people arc useful to each other, and also mutually agreeable to 
 each other. Such a friendship unites, then, all the conditions. There 
 is nothing more lovely. It is quite natural, however, that such friend-
 
 120 ELEilEXTS OF MOHALS. 
 
 ships are verj' rare, because there are very few people of such a rlispo- 
 sition. It requires, moreover, time and habit. The proverb is true 
 which says that people can hardly know each other well, ' before having 
 eateu together bushels of salt. ' In the same way persons cannot be 
 fi-iends before having shown themselves wortliy of atfection, before re- 
 ciprocal conhdence is established." (Nicomachean Ethics, liv. viii., 
 ;h. viL) 
 
 Friendsliip, according to Aristotle, consists in loving rather 
 than in being loved. 
 
 " Friendship, besides, consists much rather in loving than in being 
 loved. The proof of it is the pleasure mothers experience in lavishing 
 their love ... To love is, then, the great virtue of friends ; it is thus 
 that the most unequal of people may be friends ; theii- mutual esteem 
 renders them equals." (Ch. viii) 
 
 Friendship gives rise to a number of delicate problems : 
 they may be found discussed in great detail in Cicero's 
 Treatise on Friendship. 
 
 65. Kant's precepts touching friendship.— Among the 
 
 moderns, Kant is the only moral philosopher who has given 
 friendship a place in practical morahty. He has found new 
 and delicate traits to add to the rules of the ancients. He 
 insists above all on what he calls " the difficulties of friend- 
 ship," and above all on the difficulty of conciliating " love and 
 respect." 
 
 " To look at the moral aspect of the thing," he says, "it is certainly 
 a duty to call a friend's attention to the mistakes he may commit ; for 
 it is done for his good, and is consequently a duty of love. But the 
 friend, thus admonished, sees in the thing but a lack of esteem he had 
 not expected, and thinks he has lost something in your mind ; or, see- 
 ing himself thus observed and criticised, may at least be in constant 
 felr of losing your esteem. Besides, the fact alone of being observed 
 and censured, "will already appear to him an offensive thing in itself. 
 
 " How much in adversity do we not wish for a friend, especially an 
 effective friend, one finding in his own resources abundant means for 
 helping us ? Yet is it a very heavy burden to feel one's self responsible 
 for the fortunes of another, and called to provide for his necessities . . . 
 Then if the one receives a kindness from the other, perhaps there may 
 be yet reason to hope for perfect eciuality in love ; but lie could no
 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACEIFICE. 121 
 
 longer expect perfect equalitj' in respect ; for being under obligation to 
 one he cannot oblige in his turn, he feels liimself manifestly one degree 
 his inferior. . . . Frieudsliip is something so tender that if one does not 
 subject this reciprocal abandonment and interchange of thoughts to 
 principles, to fixed rules, which prevent too gi'eat a familiarity and 
 limit reciprocal love by the rei^uirements of respect, it -n-ill see itself 
 every instant threatened by some inteiTuption. ... In any case affec- 
 tion in friendsliip should not be a passion ; for passion is blind in its 
 choice, and evaporates with time. * 
 
 66. Duties of benevolence. -Duties minima— From 
 
 Mildness ^XQ pass to hemvolence. The one resides in senti- 
 ment, the other in acts : the first consists in wishing well, the 
 second in doing good. 
 
 The least degree of benevolence consists in rendering to 
 others those smaller services which cost us nothing, and which 
 are helpful to them. It is what Puffendorf calls the duties 
 minima of benevolence, f 
 
 Cicero, in his Treatise on duties (I., xvi.), gives several 
 examples of this kind : 
 
 " To show the way to him who asks for it ; to forbid no one the use 
 of running water ; to give fire to him who has need of it ; to give ad- 
 vice in good faith to him who is in doubt. " 
 
 Plutarch, in the same sense, says that the Eomans never 
 extinguished their lamps after their meals, and always left 
 something on the table to accustom tlie servants of the house 
 to the duties of humanity. By the law of Moses, the owner 
 of a field was obliged always to leave some corner uncut an<1 
 not glean the ears that had escaped the reapers. Finally, 
 a Greek poet, Phocylides, expressed in the following lines this 
 minimum of benevolence wliich every one can exercise : 
 
 " Give shelter to those who have none ; lead the blind ; be merciful 
 to those who have suffered shipwTeck ; extend a helping hand to the 
 fallen ; assist those that have no one to help them out of danger." 
 
 Among these primitive duties, which cost him that fulfills 
 
 * Kaut, Doc. de la vertu, trad, de Banii, p. 155. 
 
 t See Puffendorf, Droits de la nature et des gciis, III., ■ li. iii.
 
 122 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 them but little, the ancients put in the first rank Iwspitallty. 
 It is in fact a virtue of primitive times Avhich exists especially 
 among barbarous and savage peoples. In the poems of Homer 
 Ave see to what degree the guest was held sacred ; it is still so 
 among the Arabs and the Indians of America. Tins virtue, 
 on the contrary, seems to have disappeared with civilization. 
 The reason of it is tliat among barbarous populations, where 
 security is feeble, it w^as the point of honor which guaranteed 
 the security of strangers. But as civilization becomes more 
 complicated, as traveling increases, and security becomes 
 greater, mercenary hospitality takes the place of free and 
 private hospitality. Nevertheless, there can always remain 
 some occasion for this primitive virtue in places isolated and 
 separated from tlie great centres : this, for example, can still 
 be seen in our days in the great wastes of America and Aus- 
 tralia. 
 
 67. Benefactions Duties of the benefactor.— The fore- 
 going actions, however praiseworthy they may be, are too 
 simple and too easy to be presented as real acts of benevolence. 
 This term is reserved for the more difficult actions, which may 
 cost us some real sacrifices more or less great, and which, more- 
 over, are important services. These are what are called bene- 
 factions. 
 
 Seneca, in his Treatise on henefaction.% has fixed the prin- 
 ciples of Ijcnevolence : 
 
 1. Benefaction consists especially in the feeling which 
 accompanies it, rather than in the thing given. 
 
 " "Wliat is a Ijenefaction ? " he asks; "it is an act of benevolence 
 which procures joy to hiia who is the object of it and to him who exer- 
 cises it : it is a voluntary and spontaneous act. It is then not at the 
 thing done and given that we must look, but at the intention, because 
 the benefaction does not consist in the gift or in the action, but in the 
 disposition of him who gives. The proof of this difference is that the 
 benefaction is always a good, whilst the thing done or given is neither 
 a good nor an evil. The benefaction is then not the money that is 
 counted out to you, the present that is made you ; no more than the
 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 123 
 
 worsliip of the gods consists in its fattest victims, but in the upright- 
 ness and piety of their worshipers, 
 
 " One prefers a hand that opens easily to one that gives largely. He 
 ha^s done little for me, but he could not do any more. That other has 
 given much, but he hesitated, he delayed, he groaned in gi\niig, he 
 gave with ostentation ; he proclaimed his good deed ; he did not care 
 to please him whom he obliged ; it is not to me he gave, it is to his 
 vanity." (I., vi.) 
 
 2. One should do good without caring about ingrates. 
 
 " What is after all the wrong the ingrate does you ? You have lost 
 your good deed. But there remains to you the most precious part of 
 it : the merit of having done it There are services one should learn 
 how to render without hope of returns, to people one may presume will 
 be ungrateful, and whom one even knows to have been so. If, for 
 example, I can save from a great peril the children of one who has been 
 ungrateful to me, I shall not hesitate to do so." (I., x. ) 
 
 3. There must be degrees in benefactions, and, having to 
 choose, one must first give the Jiecessary, then the useful, then 
 tRe agreeable, 
 
 "The necessary," saj^s Seneca, "is divided into three classes: the 
 first comprises the things without which one cannot live (for example, 
 to rescue a man from the sword of the enemy, from the rage of tyrants, 
 fram proscription, etc ) ; the second, those without which one should 
 not live (such as liberty, honor, virtue) ; finally (3d class), our children, 
 our wives, our household gods are objects dearer to us than life. — After 
 the necessary comes the useful ; it may be subdivided into a great 
 number of species ; it comprises money, honors, and above all the prog- 
 ress in the science of virtue. — Finally come the agreeable things which 
 are innumerable. . . Let us seek things which please because they are 
 to the purpose ; that are not common ; that recall the donor ; let us 
 above all beware of useless presents." (I., xi. ) 
 
 4. The manner of granting a benefit is more important than 
 the benefit itself. 
 
 "The simplest rule to follow is to give as we should ourselves wish 
 to be given to. 
 
 " One must above all give heartily, Avithout hesitation . . . after a re- 
 fusal notliing so hard as irresolution. . . The most agreeable kindnesses 
 are those one does not expect, which flow naturally ; Avhich anticipate
 
 124 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 their need. It is better to anticiiiate the request. To forestall this 
 trouble is doubling the good deed. 
 
 ' ' There are people who spoil their greatest kindnesses by their silence, 
 their slowness to speak which comes from constraint and moodiness ; 
 they promise with the same air with which they would refuse. . . . 
 Their knit brows, their harangues, theii' disdain make one regret having 
 obtained the promised thing. 
 
 " Nothing more disagreeable than to be a long time in suspense. Theie 
 are persons who prefer giving up hope to languisliing in expectation. . . . 
 Promptness then enhances the good deed, and tardiness diminishes it. " 
 (IL, ii-vi.) 
 
 5. One must not reproach good deeds. 
 
 ' ' One of the first and most uidisj^ensable laws, is not to reproach or 
 even recall to the mind of recipients one's kindnesses. The tacit agree- 
 ment between the giver and the receiver is, that the one should imme- 
 diately forget what he has given, and that the other should never forget 
 what he has received. The frequent mention of kindnesses is a crushing 
 weight to the soul." 
 
 6. Benevolence consists sometimes in refusing. 
 
 "If the thing asked for is prejudicial to him who asks for it, then 
 benevolence consists no longer in giving, but in refusing. We should 
 have more regard to the interests of the pietitioner than to his wishes. 
 As we refuse patients cold water, arms to angry persons, so should we 
 also refuse a kindness to the most pressing requests, if that kindness is 
 injurious to the interested person. . . One should no less consider the 
 end than the principle of kindnesses." 
 
 7. Benevolence must be disinterested. 
 
 " It is shameful to do good for any other motive than doing good. 
 If one gave only in the hope of restitution, oiie would choose the richest 
 in preference to the most worthy. . . The least benevolent men would 
 be those who had the best means for being l)enevolent : the rich, the 
 great, the king, etc. ... As an insult is a thing one should for itself 
 avoid, so benevolence is desirable for its own sake (xv. ) . . . There is no 
 benevolence where there is expectation of profit. I shall give so much ; 
 I shall receive so much : this is called a bargain." (xiv. ) 
 
 We will put aside the other questions, more curious thnn 
 useful, raised by Seneca (as, for example, whether one should 
 give to the wicked ; whether one may be his own benefactor ;
 
 DUTIES OF CllAIlITY AXD SELF-SACl^IFICE. 1:35 
 
 whether one may allow himself to be outdone by good deeds, 
 etc.), and consider now the duties of the one under obligation. 
 
 68. Duties of the person under obligation. — Gratitude. 
 — After having expounded the duties of the benefactor, we 
 have to ask ourselves what are those of the person under obli- 
 gation. The principle of all is gratitude; that only comes 
 after the kindness ; but there are duties wliich precede the 
 good deed or accompany it. We shall again cite here Seneca 
 as authority. xVfter having set forth the principles which 
 should actuate the giver, he also sets forth those the receiver 
 shoidd be guided by. 
 
 1. The iirst principle is that we should not be too greedy 
 and receive from any one, Ijut only from those to whom we 
 should like to give ourselves : 
 
 " It is a painful thing to be under obligations to jjeoplc against one's 
 will. Kothing sweeter, on the contrary, than to receive a kindness from 
 a person one loves. . . I must then choose the person of whom I con- 
 sent to receive anything, and I should even be more particular in regard 
 to kindness-creditors than to money-creditors ; to the latter one need 
 only return what he has received from them ; this i-eimbursement done 
 we have acquitted ourselves toward them ; in the matter of kindnesses, 
 on the contrary-, one should pay more than what he has received." 
 
 2. A second rule is that from the moment one accepts a 
 kinchiess, he must accept it cheerfidly. 
 
 " When we have concluded to accept a kindness, let us do it cheer- 
 fully. ... To accept a kindness with pleasure, is making the first pay- 
 ment of the interest (II., xxii. ). — There are people who only consent to 
 receive in secret ; they wish neither witnesses to, nor confidants of, the 
 obligations they are contracting. If the benefactor is bound to proclaim 
 his kindness only inasmuch as it5 publicity will give pleasure to the jjcr- 
 son he obliges, the one receiving should, on the contrary, call together 
 the crowd. One is at liberty not to accept what he blushes to receive 
 (.xxxiii. ). . . . One of the lesser paradoxes of the stoics is, that in 
 receiving a kindness cheerfully, one has already acquitted himself." 
 
 3. One must awaken the renierabrauce of a good deed : tu 
 remeinbei- is alreadTj to acqtiit one's self (xxiv.).
 
 12G ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 " Which, according to you, is the most culpable, he who feels no 
 gratitude for a kindness, or he who does not even keep it in mind ? . . . 
 It would seem that one thought very little about restitution when he 
 has got so far as to forget the kindness. ... To acquit one's self of a 
 kindness, one needs means, some fortune ; but the recollection of it is 
 a gratitude which costs nothing. To withhold a payment which requii'es 
 neither trouble nor riches, is inexcusable. . . . The objects memory 
 is busy with never escape it ; it only loses those it does not often 
 revert to." 
 
 69. Kant's rules touching benevolence and gratitude. — 
 
 To the maxims of the ancients •which ^ve have just summed 
 up, let us add a few principles borrowed of a modem moralist, 
 the philosopher Kant : 
 
 Beiievolence. — Benevolence, when one is rich, and finds in his super- 
 fluity the means of making others happy, should never be considered 
 by the benefactor even a meritorious duty. The satisfaction he pro- 
 cures to himself thereby, and which does not cost him anj' sacrifice, is 
 a means of filling himself with moral sentiments. Therefore must he 
 carefully avoid looking as if he thought he was obliging others ; for 
 otherwise his kindness would no longer be one ; since he would seem 
 wishing to put under obligation the person to whom he grants it. He 
 should, on the contrary, show himself under obligation, or as honored 
 by the acceptance of his kindness, and consequently fulfill this duty as 
 he would pay a debt he had contracted ; or, what is still better, practice 
 benevolence wholly in secret. This virtue is still greater when the 
 means for being benevolent are restricted : it is then he deseiTes to be 
 considered as very rich morally. (Kant, Doctrine dc la Veriu, trad. Fr. , 
 p. 128.) 
 
 Gratiludc. — Gratitude should be considered a holy duty. "We call, in 
 fact, holy any moral object regarding wliich no act could entirely acquit 
 one of the contracted obligation. Now there is no way of acquitting 
 one's self of a benefit received, because he who receives it cannot refuse to 
 him who grants it the merit and advantage of having been the first in 
 showing his kindness. 
 
 The least degree of gratitude is to render to the benefactor equivalent 
 services. It is, also, never to look upon a kindness received as upon a 
 burden one would be glad to be rid of (under pretext that it places the 
 one under obligation in a position inferior to that of his benefactor, 
 M'hich is wounding to his pride). One must, on the contrary, accept it 
 as a moral kindness, that is to .say, as furnishing us an opportunity to 
 practice a virtue. (Ibid., p. 130, 132.)
 
 DUTIES OF CHAEITT AND SELF-SACEIFICE. 12T 
 
 70. Precautions which benevolence requires. — Benevo- 
 lence should, not be exercised Avitliout reserve and precaution. 
 In abandoning one's self to it imprudently, one may do more 
 harm than good. Cicero on this subject recommends three 
 principal precautions : 
 
 " One must take care," he says : 
 
 "1. Lest, in wishing to do a person good, one does harm, 
 either to him or to others ; 
 
 " 2. In the second place, let not our benevolence exceed 
 our means ; 
 
 " 3. Finally, let every one be treated according to his 
 deserts." 
 
 1. Those, in fact, whose benevolence injures him who is the object 
 thereof, should be looked upon as flatterers, rather than generous men. 
 Those who injure some, to be generous towards others (as, for exam- 
 ple, to omit paying one's debts, in order to exercise charity), commit 
 the same injustice as if they appropriated what belongs to others. Thus, 
 when Sylla and Caesar transferred to strangers the property of lawful 
 owners, they were not generous ; liberality may exist then where justice 
 is absent. 
 
 2. The second precaution is to exercise our benevolence according to 
 our means. Those who wish to bo more benevolent than they can 
 afford, are in the hrst place unjust to their famUy ; since the property, 
 to the inheritance of which it has a right, goes thus over to strangers. 
 Such generosity often leads, moreover, to the enriching of one's self at 
 the expense of others, m order to provide for lilwralities. One sees, 
 thus, many people, more vain than generous, pass for being benevolent. 
 It becomes then a boiTOwed virtue, which has more of vanity than 
 liberality. 
 
 3. The third rule is, whilst dispensing our liberalities, to proportion 
 them to merit ; to consider the morals of him who is their object, the 
 attachment he shows us, the different relations he may have with us ; 
 lastly, the services he may have rendered us. It were desirable he had 
 all these titles to our beneA'olence ; but if he has them not all, the 
 greatest and largest in numbers should weigh most in the scales. 
 
 71. Self-devotion — Self-abnegation — Sacrifice. — When 
 charity reaches the highest degree ; when it requires Ave 
 should give to others what we hold most dear — as, for instance,
 
 128 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 life, fortune, etc. — it takes another name and is called devo- 
 tion, self-abnegation, sacrifice. These three words, with various 
 shadmgs, express the idea of a precious gift of Avhich one 
 deprives himself to benefit others. One may devote one's self 
 to others in various ways, in choosing for one's object either 
 the life, or welfare, or liberty, or the morality and intelligence 
 of others. Let us examine these various forms of devotion. 
 
 72. The nature of the benefit. — Diverse forms of self- 
 devotion. — The life, the welfare, the morality of others, 
 etc. — Sacrificing ones life for others. — Justice requires avc 
 fchould not attack the life of others ; charity requires mors : 
 it demands that we make every effort to save the life of our 
 fellow-beings, even sometimes at the cost of our own. 
 
 This duty, which is a duty of charity for men in general, is 
 a duty of justice for the physician and all those who have care 
 of the sick. The physician owes his devotion to the patient, 
 as the soldier owes his to his country. In both these cases 
 medical duty, military duty, devotion is a strict duty. It is 
 at the same time a duty towards men and a duty towards the 
 profession. It is in both cases what may be called the honor 
 of the flag. Thus do we every year see a certain number of 
 young hospital physicians die, like soldiers on the field of 
 honor. 
 
 The duty of attending the sick and being thereby exposed 
 to contagion, falls alike on all who have chosen this profession : 
 sisters of charity, the nurses, the male and female attendants 
 in infirmaries. It is also a duty in the family ; the parents 
 owe themselves to their children; the servants themselves 
 should assume in a certain measure the same responsibility, 
 although it is the duty of the masters to spare them as much 
 as possible. Moreover, it is known how common this devotion 
 is, especially with mothers, and how many of them die of the 
 illness they have contracted at the bedside of their children. 
 In all these circumstances, it is of course not forbidden to be 
 cautious, and wisdom requires one should not go beyond the _
 
 . :^r ^ .._ ^^j__ 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACKIFICE. 129 
 
 strictly necessary ; but the necessary is obligatory ; and on 
 whom should it fall more naturally than on the parents ? 
 
 Besides the illnesses which threaten the lives of men, there 
 are dangers more sudden, more violent, more terrible, which 
 arise from the invasion of the forces of nature : fire and water 
 are the most terrible ; conflagrations, inundations, shipwrecks, 
 catastrophes of all kinds imperil the lives of men. 
 
 Here the question is no longer one of slow and leisurely 
 attentions. To save a life which a minute later ■will be ex- 
 tinguished, there is wanted a sudden resolution, a well-tested 
 courage, and the will to risk one's life for that of another. In 
 these terrible circumstances there are some men who seem to 
 be more naturally called than others to sacrifice themselves ; 
 for example, firemen and sailors. It is certain that it is those 
 who are the more familiar Avith the element it is necessary to 
 combat, that are most called to do so, and for wliom self-de- 
 votion becomes a greater duty. But it is not always possible 
 to have them immediately at hand ; in a sudden catastrophe, 
 aU must take their share of the peril ; all must be ready to 
 give their life for others if they can do so with some utility. 
 
 Devotion towards the wretched. — Xext to health and life, 
 Avhat men most esteem are material goods and that which 
 is caUed fortune. Certainly, we should not encourage this 
 estimation men have for material goods ; one should as much 
 as possible teach them to do without them ; and the saying 
 that happiness resides rather in a small competence than in 
 riches, is most true. But it is not less true that the material 
 things are absolutely necessary to life, and that the absence 
 of these things is in every respect prejudicial to man, since 
 health, life, and even the interests of the soul and mind, depend 
 on these material goods. How can we educate ourselves with- 
 out eating? How can we improve the heart and soul Avlien 
 want impels us to all sorts of temptations? Finally, sufiering 
 itself, though morality commands us to bear it with courage, 
 is a legitimate object of sympxthy. From all these consider- 
 ations arises, for those who possess anything, the obligation to
 
 130 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 come to tho assistance of those wlio have nothing : this is what 
 is called gift. This obligation can be satisfied in many ways, 
 but the mode should certainly consist with the dignity and 
 responsibihty of those wlio are the object of the gift. Ex- 
 perience has shown that an ill-understood charity encourages 
 idleness and often rewards and perpetuates vice. It is there- 
 fore Avork which should above aU be furnished to the poor : 
 the loan shoidd generally be preferred to the gift ; but hnally, 
 whatever precautions one may take, and whatever be the causes 
 of the misery, there comes always a moment when, in presence 
 of himger, illness, supreme want, one must give ; must deprive 
 himself for others. As to the particular rules which govern 
 benevolence, we have given them above in speaking of bene- 
 factions. 
 
 Consolations, exliortatioiis, histribctioiis. After the duties 
 toward the body come the duties toward the soul : and this 
 distinction has place for others as for ourselves. It is not 
 enough to insure and save the lives of men, and give them 
 the daily bread ; one must also nourish their souls, their 
 intelligences, their moral weaknesses, which also need suste- 
 nance. Thence three different obligations : to console the 
 afflicted ; to exhort the weak ; to instriict the ignorant. The 
 consoling of the afflicted is a virtue, which needs no rule, and 
 does not admit of any. One does not console by order, 
 by processes, by principles. Here the heart is better than 
 strict laws. Listen to your lieart ; it will teach you how to 
 be merciful without being indiscreet; how to touch without 
 wounding ; how to Bay enough without saying too much. In 
 respect to poor people, one often consoles them by relieving 
 their misery, and the duty here blends Avith benevolence 
 After the consolation come the exhortations. The duty here 
 becomes more and more delicate. It is no easy thing to ad- 
 vise men; we have not even always a right to do so; for it 
 is attributing to ourselves a certain .superiority over them. 
 This duty of exhortation is therefore an affectation of pride 
 rather than an inspinxtion of fraternity. It is especially with
 
 DUTIES OF CHAEITT AXD SELF-SACIJIFICE. 131 
 
 children, with young people, that good exhortations properly 
 made can he useful. In a few words, moderate and just, one 
 may often recall to them their duties of respect towards them- 
 selves, and of economy, sobriety, devotion towards their rela- 
 tives. Finally comes the duty of instruction. Here it is not 
 the office of all, hut only of those who are charged with this 
 fimction. ' Yet may we contribute our share toAvards the in- 
 struction of children either hy money-contributions, or by 
 visiting the schools, or by encouragement-societies ; in a word, 
 by all sorts of auxiliary means. Such are the principal duties 
 in regard to souls. 
 
 -D" 
 
 73. Clemency. Pardon of injuries. — Love of enemies. 
 
 — The foregoing duties consist not only in returning good fur 
 evil, but also in doing good to those who have not done us 
 any. A superior degree of charity, which is called generosity, 
 consists in returning good for evil, in forgiving the wicked, — 
 not the wrong they have done to others, but the wTong they 
 have done to ourselves. This, in the case of sovereigns, is 
 called clemency. The saying of Louis XII. is well known, 
 having pardoned the enemies he had had before taking the 
 crown : " The king," said he, " should forget the injuries done 
 to the duke of Orleans." The great Conde was moved to 
 tears over Comeille's celebrated lines in Cinna : 
 
 " Let us be friends, Cinna ; it is I who invite tliee : 
 I gave thee tliy life as to my enemy, 
 And despite the fury of thy cowardly designs, 
 I still give it thee, as to my murderer." 
 
 The duty of returning good for evQ goes even further than 
 clemency and the pardon of injuries : for this is notliing more 
 than to abstain from wronging one's enemies. But we should do 
 more : we must be capable of doing good to our enemies when 
 they deserve it, or need it ; and furtlier still, we sliould try to 
 carry the virtue even so far as to interdict ourselves any 
 feeling of pride, which wotdd naturally arise in a heart great 
 enough to avenge itself by benefits.
 
 132 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 The pliilosopber Spinoza has admirably expressed this 
 doctrine : " Hatred must be overcome not by hatred, but by 
 love and generosity." 
 
 74. Duiies of kindness towards animals.— Among the 
 
 moralists, there are some Avho do not admit that we have any 
 duties towards beings inferior to man, namely, animals ; others, 
 on the contrary, do not admit any duties towards any above 
 man, consequently towards God ; others, in fine, deny that 
 man has any towards himself. There are scarcely any duties, 
 except those towards our fellow-beings, that have not been 
 questioned by one or the other of the moralists : some con- 
 necting the latter with the duties towards ourselves, or the 
 duties towards God. 
 
 According to us, there are four classes of duties, and these 
 four classes are not reducible the one to the other. * 
 
 Xo one can deny from a practical point of view that there 
 are duties towards animals ; for we know very well that it is 
 not permitted to maltreat them or cause them unnecessary 
 pain ; and everj'' enlightened conscience condemns cruelty to 
 animals. Therefore can there be here question only of a spec- 
 ulative scruple. It can be very well seen that there is a duty 
 here ; but it is, they say, a duty towards ourselves ; for it is 
 our duty not to be cruel, and cruelty toward animals accustoms 
 us too easily to cruelty toward men. But this is a very use- 
 less subtlety, and too roundabout a way to express a very 
 simple thing. We prefer simply saying that kindness toward 
 an animal is a duty toward that animal. 
 
 Besides, the reasons given against the duties toward animals, 
 appear to us more specious than substantial. It is said that 
 animals, having neither will nor intelligence, are not persons, 
 but things ; that, consequently, they have no riglds, and that 
 we can have no duties toward what has no rights. 
 
 These are inadmissible subtleties. One can, in law terms, 
 divide all objects of nature into persons and things; and 
 
 * See our Morale, liv. II., ili. v.
 
 o.-> 
 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AXD SELF-SACRIFICE. 13: 
 
 animals, not being persons, are things, in the sense that they 
 can be apirropnaied. But, strictly speaking, can a being en- 
 dowed with sensibihty be called a thing ? Is it true, moreover, 
 that an animal has no intelligence, no Avill — that consequently 
 it has not any vestige of personality? Is it true again that an 
 animal has no kind of rights ? This, in the first place, is to 
 suppose what is in question. And, moreover, does not con- 
 science say to us that an animal which has served us long 
 years with affection has thereby acquired a certain right to our 
 gratitude ? And, finally, is it really true that we havfe only 
 duties towards those that have duties toAvards us ? That were 
 a very perilous maxim in social morality. T\"e are told not to 
 be cruel to animals in order not to become cruel towards men. 
 But if one were sure not to become cruel towards men, Avoidd 
 it follov/ therefrom that it is permitted to be so towards ani- 
 mals ? No, it will be said ; but it is because cruelty, though 
 its object be only animals, is in itself a vice, base and un- 
 Avorthy of man. One should not conclude from that, that 
 cruelty is a direct crime against them. But for the same 
 reason it might be maintained that Ave have no duties toward 
 others, and only toAvard ourselves ; injustice, cruelty, are odious 
 vices in themselves ; goodness and justice, noble qualities ; 
 AA'-e shoidd shun the one and avoid the other out of respect for 
 ourseh^es, and regardless of the object of these vices and virtues. 
 If, despite these considerations, it is then thought better to 
 make, nevertheless, a distinction betAveen the duties toAvard 
 others and those toward ourselves, there should for the same 
 reason be made a distinct class of the duties toAA'ard animals. 
 Finally, if Ave OAve nothing to animals, it is not very clear Avliy 
 acts hypothetically indifferent should be treated as cruelties ; 
 nor A\hy such acts should be considered as loAvering and dis- 
 honoring the character. 
 
 On the whole, and to avoid all theoretical difficulties, it 
 may be said that we have duties, if not toAvard animals, at 
 least in regard to animals. 
 
 Our duties in regard to animals, are they, hoA\'ever, of a kind
 
 134 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 to make us doubt our right to destroy or reduce them to 
 servitude 1 
 
 The destruction of animals may have two causes ; it may 
 be for our defense, it may be for our subsistence. As to the 
 lirst there is no difficulty ; the right of legitimate self-defense 
 authorizes us to destroy what would otherwise destroy us. 
 Between us and beasts injurious to man there is evidently a 
 state of natural war, and in that state the law is that might 
 makes right. This same laAV is the one which regidates the 
 relati6ns of the animals between themselves : it is also their 
 law in regard to us. The lion, for instance, might not always 
 be as tenderly inclined as the lion of Androcles or the Hon of 
 Florence : it would not be well to trust it. We need not, 
 therefore, even theoretically, entertain any scruples concerning 
 the destruction of injurious animals. 
 
 Is it the same with the destruction of animals intended for 
 our nourishment 1 Is this destruction innocent, or must wo, 
 as did the Pythagoreans or Brahmins of old (for superstitious 
 reasons, however), interdict all animal food ?* This question 
 has been so well solved by general usage that it is scarcely 
 necessary to raise it. It is not likel}' men will ever think of 
 giving up animal food, and no one regrets having eaten of a 
 good roast. Yet for those who like to find out the reason of 
 things, it is a problem to Icnow Avhether we have the right to 
 do what we do without remorse and scruples ; and Avhether a 
 universal and apparently indestructible practice is also a legiti- 
 mate and innocent practice. Man, according to us, in liAdng 
 on flesh, is justified by natirre herself, who made him a car- 
 nivorous creature. Every being is authorized to perform the 
 acts which result from its organization.! The human organi- 
 zation, as the nature of the teeth and the whole digestive sys- 
 tem indicate, is prepared to nourish itself with flesh. In 
 many countries even all other nourishment is impossible ; 
 
 ♦ Abstinence from the flesh of animals was based by Pythagoras, as it was with 
 the Brahmins, upon the doctrine of metempsychosis, 
 t Tlie question is as to tlie acts themselves, and not their abuse.
 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 135 
 
 there are peoples whose very situation makes them necessarily 
 hunters, fishermen, or shepherds ; it is only in some countries 
 highly favored, and, thanks to scientific cultivation, the result 
 of civilization, that vegetable food could he made abundant 
 enoufdi to suffice, and hardly that for large masses of popula- 
 tion ; for we know quite well what disasters follow upon a 
 scarcity of crops. What would be the result if the human 
 race were deprived of half its means of subsistence ? Add to 
 this that, whatever may have been said against it, animal food 
 mixed in a certain measure with vegetable food, is indispen- 
 sable to the health and vigor of the human race. 
 
 As to the servitude of animals and the labor we impose on 
 them, its justification lies first in the principle of legitimate 
 self-defense, to which we have just now alluded. Many of 
 our domestic races would, in a savage state, become veritable 
 wild beasts. The wild hog is, they say, the wild boar ; the 
 Avild dog, the jackal ; the wild cat belongs to the leopard and 
 tif^er family. In reducing these sorts of animals to servitude, 
 and in making of them companions and help-mates in our 
 work, we thereby deliver ourselves from dangerous enemies. 
 Domestication is better than destruction. Add to this, that 
 if we except the first animals which have passed from the 
 savao-e state to the domestic state (which, as to our domestic 
 races, is lost in the night of time and escapes all responsibility), 
 the present animals, born in servitude, know no other state, 
 do not suff"er froui a Avant of liberty, and find even, thanks to 
 our cares, a more certain subsistence than if they were free. 
 They are, it is true, sacrificed Tjy us to our wants, but they 
 Avould be so liy other animals in the savage state. "Whether 
 a sheep be eaten by men or wolves, it is not to be more pitied 
 for that, one way or the other. 
 
 The right of man over aniuials being set aside, there re- 
 mains an essential duty respecting them, namely : not to make 
 them suffer without necessity. 
 
 Fontenellc relates that, having gone one day to see Male-
 
 13G ELEMENTS OP MORALS. 
 
 branche,* at the fathers of the Oratoire, a dog of tlie house, 
 big with young, entered the room and rolled about at the feet 
 of the father. After having tried in vain to drive it away, 
 Malebranche gave the dog a kick which caused it to utter a 
 cry of pain and Fontenelle a cry of compassion : " Oh, pshaw • " 
 said father Malebranche, coolly, " do you not know that these 
 things do not feel?" 
 
 How could this philosopher be sure that tliese things did 
 not feel 1 Is not the animal organized in the same manner as 
 man ? Has he not the same senses, the same nervous sj^stem 1 
 Does he not give the same signs of irnpressions received? 
 Why should not the cry of the animal express pain as does 
 the cry of a child 1 When man is not perverted by custom, 
 cruelty, or the spirit of system, he cannot see the sufferings of 
 animals Avithout suffering himself, a manifest proof that there 
 is sometliing in common between them and us, for sympathy 
 is by reason of similitude. 
 
 Animals, then, suffer ; this is undeniable ; they have, like 
 ourselves, a physical sensibility ; but they have also a certain 
 riioral sensibility ; they are capable of attachment, of gratitude, 
 of fidelity ; of love for their little ones, of reciprocal affection. 
 From this physical and moral analogy between men and ani- 
 mals, there obviously results the obligation of inflicting upon 
 them no useless suffering. Madame JNTecker de Saussuref re- 
 lates the story of a child who, finding himself in a garden 
 where a tamed quail was freely running aljout beside the cage 
 of a bird of prey, yielded to the temptation of seizing the 
 ])Oor quail and giving it to the bird to devoiir. The hero of 
 this adventure relates himself the ])unishment inflicted on 
 him : 
 
 " At dinner — there was a great deal of company that day — 
 tlie master of tlie house began to relate tlie scene, coolly and 
 without any remarks, simply naniiug me. When he was 
 
 ♦ A philosopher of the school of Dcscartos, who, like his master, taught that ani- 
 mals are machines. 
 
 t Education progressive, VI., iv.
 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 137 
 
 through, there was a moment of general silence, Avhere every 
 one looked at me with a kind of horror. I heard some words 
 exchanged among the guests, and without any one's directly 
 speaking to me, I could understand that everybody thought 
 me a monster." 
 
 Connected with the cruelty toward animals are certain 
 liarharous games where animals are made to fight with each 
 other for our pleasure. Such are the bull-fights in Spain ; 
 the cock-fights in England ; we do not go so far as to rank 
 the chase among inhuman games, because, on the one hand, it 
 has for its object to destroy the animals injurious to our forests 
 and crops, and to furnish us useful food; and on the other, it 
 is an exercise favorable to health, and exercises certain facul- 
 ties of the soul ; but the chase must at least not be a mas- 
 sacre, and must have for its end utility. 
 
 Brutality toward the animals which render us the greatest 
 services, and which we see every day loaded beyond their 
 strength, and beaten to bear up under the load, is also an 
 odious act, and doubly wrong, as it is both contrary to hu- 
 manity and contrary to our interests, since these animals, 
 overloaded and beaten, will not be long in succumbing to the 
 violence of their persecutors. 
 
 Nor can we consider as absolutely indifferent the act of 
 killing or selling (except in cases of extreme necessity) a do- 
 mestic animal that has served us a long time, and whose 
 attachment we have experienced. " Among the conquerors 
 at the Olympic Games," the ancients tell us, " many share 
 the distinctions Avhich they receive with the horses Avhich 
 have helped to procure them ; they proA-ide for them a happy 
 old age ; they accord them an honorable burial, and some- 
 times even raise a monument over their graves." 
 
 " It is not reasonable," says Plutarcli, "to nse things which have life 
 and feeling, as we wonld use a shoe or an\' other instrument, throwing 
 it away when worn out and ruined bj' dint of service done ; if it were 
 for no other cause than to induce and stimulate us to constant compas- 
 sion, we should accustom ourselves to gentleness and charitableness,
 
 138 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 
 
 even to performing the humblest offices of kindness ; as for me, I should 
 never have the heart to sell an ox who for a long time had ploughed 
 my land, because, by reason of old age, he can no longer work. " 
 
 A very serious question has been raised these latter times, 
 namely, the question of vivisection^ and how far, in a scientific 
 point of view, we have a right to practice on living animals. 
 The point is not to interdict to science what is the indispen- 
 sable condition of its progress and propagation ; but we should 
 limit ourself to the strictly necessary, and not with revolt- 
 ing prodigality multiply sacrifices that are not absolutely 
 useful. 
 
 One of the principal reasons for condemning cruelty toward 
 animals, is that through the instinct of imitation and sym- 
 pathy men may get into the habit of doing to others what 
 they have seen practiced on animals. There is a story of a 
 child who caused his brother to suffer the same death he had 
 just seen infli-cted on an animal.* 
 
 The men who are brutal toward animals are likewise so 
 towa-'d each other, and treat with the same cruelty their Avives 
 and children. 
 
 It is by reason of these considerations of social utihty and 
 iiumanity that the law in France decided to interfere to pre- 
 vent and punish the bad treatment inflicted upon animals ;t 
 and the consequences of this measiu'e ha\'e been most happy. 
 
 * Bulletin de la Societe Protectrice des Animaux. June, 1S68. 
 
 t Law of the 2d July, 1850, called Grammont Law: "Shall be punishable by a 
 fine of from five to fifteen francs, or from one to five days' imprisonment, any one who 
 shall publicly and abusively have maltreated domestic animals. In case of repeti- 
 tion of the offence, imprisonment. 
 
 A society— Soei^Je Protectrice des Animaitx— has been formed to come in aid to the 
 law. The principal articles of its statutes am : " Tlie aim of the society is to ame- 
 liorate, by all the means in its power, and conformably to the law of the 2d of July, 
 T850, the condition of animals. The society awards recompenses to any propagating 
 its work and inventing proper means to the relief of animals ; to the agents of the 
 police, pointed out by their chiefs as having enforced the laws and regulations for 
 the prevention of cruelty and ill-treatment towards animals ;— to the agents of agri- 
 culture, shepherds, farm-help, farmers, leaders of cattle ;— to coachmen, butcher- 
 boys, smiths— in short, to any person who, in some high degree, shall have given 
 proof of good treatment, intelligent and continued care and compassion toward ani- 
 mals." See in its Bulletins, the useful results obtained by this interesting society.
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 DUTIES TOWARD THE STATE. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 Three groups of societies among men : Humanity, Uwfamihj, the 
 
 country, or the State. 
 
 Analysis of patriotism. 
 
 Foundation of the State. — Law and rights. Public authority: dis- 
 tinction between society and the State. The three powers. Sov- 
 ereignty. The right of punishment. 
 
 Duties tov/ard the State: 1. Obedieiice to the laws. — The Crito of 
 Plato. Pretended exceptions to this principle. Criticising the laws 
 is not disobedience. 
 
 2. Respect to magistrates. — The magistrates being the representa- 
 tives of the laws, to respect them is to respect the law itself ; to insult 
 them is to insult the law. 
 
 3. The ballot. — Obligation to vote. The character of the ballot: 
 1, disinterested ; 2, free; 3, enlightened. 
 
 4. Taxes. — Immorality of frauds against the State. 
 
 5. 3Iilitary service. — Legal and moral obligation. Attempts to 
 escape it : 1, by mutilations ; 2, by simulated infirmities ; 3, by deser- 
 tion ; want of discipline. 
 
 6. Educational obligation. 
 
 Civil courage. — Xoted example : Boissy d'Anglas. 
 
 75. Three groups of societies. — Cicero and Fenelon 
 remark that there are three sorts of societies among men : the 
 first comprises the whole of humanity ; the last, which is the 
 most circumscribed, is what is called tlie famihj. But between 
 the family and the human race in general, there is an inter- 
 mediate society, larger than the one and more circumscribed 
 than the other, and this is what is called the country.
 
 140 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 
 
 76. Patriotism. — The sentiment which binds us to the 
 country, and which, articulated, becomes a duty, is what is 
 called patriotism. We have already given elsewhere,* an 
 analysis of patriotism. Let us repeat what we have said : 
 
 Patriotism is one of our most complex sentiments : it is in fact com- 
 posed of many distinct elements : it is, in the fu-st place, the love of the 
 soil where we were born ; and this soil is at first the narrow tenitory 
 where our youth passed, and which we embraced entire with the eyes 
 and recollections : it is the native village, the native city. But if this 
 is the first sense of country, it falls far short of embracing the whole 
 country. The love for the native church steeple is not patriotism : it is 
 even its opposite often. The soil must extend, widen, and from the 
 natal house, must gradually embrace, by successive additions, the 
 village, the town, the county, the province, the whole country. But 
 what is to determine the extent of this territory ? "Who is to decide 
 that it shall go so far and no farther ? There enter into it many ele- 
 ments : first, the inhabitants, the fellow-citizens, fellow-countrymen ; 
 a soil deserted would not be a country ; to the love of the territory there 
 must be added the love of those who inhabit it with us, or of our/cZZoir- 
 countrymen; to the nomadic people the country is only their tribe. 
 Conversely, the citizens without the soil are not the country either, for 
 exile in common is not the less exile. Finally, the union of soil and 
 fellow-citizens may still not be the country, at least not all the country ; 
 a conquered nation may preserve its soil and its inhabitants, and have 
 lost the country : as Poland, for instance. "What, then, are the ties to 
 determine the existence of a country ? There are a large number of 
 them, such as the unity of langtcage, the unity of laws, the unity of the 
 flag, historic tradition, and, finally, above all, the unify of govemmcni 
 and of an accepted government. A country exists only where there is 
 an independent political state. This political unity does not suffice 
 when the other ties are wanting ; when it is a constraint, when peoples 
 united under the same government have different manners, customs, 
 traditions ; conversely, unity of language and community of habits, will 
 neither be sufficient when the political unity or a certain form of polit- 
 ical unity is wanting. But what, before everything else, constitutes 
 the country, is a common spirit, a common soul, in short, a common 
 name, which fuses into one all these separate facts of which no single 
 one is absolutely necessarj', but of which each forms an additional ele- 
 ment to the strength of the countrj'. Finally, as a last condition, the 
 
 * Traite clemcntaire de philosuphie, p. 202.
 
 DUTIES TOWARD THE STATE. 141 
 
 association which is to become a country must not, as was the case with 
 the Roman empire, extend over too much territory ; for beyond certain 
 limits, patriotism relaxes. 
 
 Nature has endowed us with this sentimeut of patriotism. 
 There is no one that does not love his country better than 
 other countries, that is not flattered by national glory, that 
 does not suffer from the humiliations and miseries of his 
 native country. But this sentiment is more or less strong, 
 according to temperaments. Often it is nothing more than a 
 sentiment, and does not express itself in actions. It is the 
 reflective faculties which make of patriotism a duty, which 
 duty demands that sentiment pass into action ; demands of all 
 the citizens the same acts, whatever be the personal inclina- 
 tions of each. 
 
 The duties imposed on each man in regard to the particular 
 society of which he is a member, are called civil duties. He, 
 himself, in regard to this society, is what is called a citizen; 
 finally, the society itself, considered as one and the same per- 
 son, of which the citizens are the- members, is what is called 
 the State or the city. 
 
 On the whole, there is no difference between country and 
 State. Country is at the same time Society and soil. It is 
 called by that name (State) when looked upon in the liglit 
 of a family of which the citizens are the cliildren, and aho 
 when considered in its relations with other nations and other 
 societies. The State is that same society considered interiorly 
 and in itself, not as to its soil and territory, but as to the 
 members that compose it, and in as far as these members form 
 one and the same body and are governed by laws. The 
 country is a more concrete and more vivid expression, which 
 appeals more to the feelings ; the State is a more abstract ex- 
 pression, which addresses itself to reason. Besides, we shall 
 understand better what is meant by the State, when we shall 
 have explained the nature of public authority and the laws. 
 
 77. Foundation of the State— Rights. — To understand the
 
 143 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 
 
 nature of the State and what is called authority, sovereignty, 
 magistracy, law, one must begin with the notion of rights and 
 of the different kinds of rights. 
 
 Duty is the law which imposes on us obligations either to- 
 ward ourselves or toward others ; it is a moral necessity (p. 
 11). Rights is the poicer we have to exercise and develop 
 our faculties conformably to our destiny, provided we allow 
 other men the same power : it is a moral poicer (Leibnitz). 
 Each man, by reason of his enjoying liberty and intelligence, 
 is a person, and should not he treated as a thing. " Man is a 
 thing sacred to man," said the ancients. He is inviolable in 
 his personality and in all that constitutes the development of 
 his personality. 
 
 Thence follows an immediate consequence : it is, that every 
 man being man by the same title, no one can claim for him- 
 self a right wliich he is not willing to recognize at the same 
 time in another ; hence the equality of rights. Besides, the 
 liberty of one cannot, without contradiction, suppress the lib- 
 erty of another, whence this other definition : Right is the 
 accord ofliliprties. 
 
 78. The rights of man. — What are the principal rights of 
 man ? They are : the right of self-preservation ; the right of 
 going and coming, or individiud liberty ; the liberty of worlc ; 
 the right of pjvoperty ; the libei'ty of thought ; tlie liherty of 
 conscience ; the right of family, etc. 
 
 We have also seen that man (p. 52) has a final right which 
 is the guaranty and the sanction of all others ; it is the right 
 of preventing by force every attempt at his rights ; to con- 
 strain others to respect his rights, and lastly, to punish every 
 violation of his rights. This is what is called the right of 
 self-defensi'. 
 
 79. Public authority. — Man having, as we have just seen, 
 the right of self-defense by opposing force to any attack, pos- 
 sesses, when alone, and far from all human help, this right in 
 all its plenitude. But it is easy to see the dangers and inex- 
 pediency of such a right in a society. Each man, in fact,
 
 DUTIES TOWARD THE STATE. 143 
 
 when he meets with opposition to liis will and desires, always 
 thinks himself injured in his rights. If every one were free 
 to defend himself in all circumstances, the right of self-defense 
 would keep men constantly under arms ; and society, without 
 a regulating power to check their doings, would soon, as the 
 philosopher Hobbes expressed it, be " the war of all agaimt all." 
 Hence the necessity of the State — that is to say, of a disinter- 
 ested power — taking in hand the defense of all, and insuring the 
 proper exercise of the right of self-defense by suppressing its 
 abuses. This is what is called jyablie aidlim'ity. 
 
 80. Society and the State. — We must distinguish be- 
 tween society and the State, or natural society and civil so- 
 ciety. 
 
 Society is the union which exists between men, without 
 distinction of frontiers — without exterior restraint — and for 
 the sole reason that they are men. An Englishman and an 
 Indian, as Locke says, meeting in the waste forests of America 
 (Robinson and Friday), are, from the fact alone of their com- 
 mon nature, in a state of society. 
 
 The civil society or State is an assemblage of men subject 
 to a common authority, to common laios — that is to say, a so- 
 ciety whose members may be constrained by public force to 
 respect their reciprocal rights. 
 
 81. The three powers. — There results from that, that two 
 necessary elements enter into the idea of the State : laws and 
 force. The laAvs are the general rules which establish before- 
 hand and fix after deliberation, and abstractly, the rights of 
 each; force is the physical restraint the public power is armed 
 with to have the laws executed. Hence two j^owers in the 
 State, the leyislcdim power and the executive power — one that 
 makes the law ; the other that executes it, and to which may 
 generally be added a third, namely, judiciary power, which, 
 on its part, is empowered to apply and interpret the law.* 
 
 82. Sovereignty. — These three powers emanate from a 
 
 * Concerning these three powers, see Montesquieu, Esprit des lois, I., xi.
 
 144 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 common source which is called sovereign. In all States, the 
 sovereign is the authority which is in possession of the three 
 preceding powers and delegates them. In an absolute mon- 
 archy, the sovereign is the monarch, who of himself exercises 
 the legislative and executive power, sometimes even the ju- 
 dicial power. In a democracy, the sovereign is the univer- 
 sality of the citizens, or the j^jeople, which delegates the three 
 powers, and even in some cases exercises them. 
 
 As to the basis of sovereignty, two systems face each other : 
 the divine right and the sovereignty of the people. In the first, 
 the authority emanates from God, who transmits it to chosen 
 families ; in the second, societies, ILke individuals, are free 
 arbiters, and belong to themselves ; they are answerable for 
 their destinies ; and this can only be true of the entire society; 
 for why should certain classes rather than others have the 
 privilege to decide about the fate of each ? The sovereignty 
 of the people is then nothing else than the right of each to 
 participate in public poAver, either of himself or through his 
 representatives. This principle tends more and more to pre- 
 dominate in civilized States. 
 
 83. Political liberty! — Political liberty means all the 
 guaranties which insure to every citizen the legitimate exer- 
 cise of his natural rights ; political liberty is, then, the sanc- 
 tion of civil liberty. 
 
 The principal of these guaranties are : 1, the right of suf- 
 frage, which insures to every one his share of sovereignty ; 2, 
 the separation of powers, Avhich puts into different hands the 
 executive, legislative, and judicial powers ; 3, the liberty of the 
 press, which insures the right of minorities, and allows them 
 to employ argument to change or modify the ideas and opin- 
 ions of the majority. 
 
 84. The right of punishment. — The right of punisliment 
 in a State is notliing else than the right of restraint, Avhich, as 
 Ave have already seen, is inherent in the very idea of the 
 State ; for the State only exists to insure to each the exercise 
 of his vishts, and it can onlv do so bv restraint and the use of
 
 DUTIES TOWARD THE STATE. 145 
 
 force. How far can this right of force go 1 Can it, for ex^ 
 ample, go so far as the taking of life even ? This is a mooted 
 question between publicists, and upon which we have, more- 
 over, already expressed ourselves (p. 55 et seq.). 
 
 After having in these summary views resolved the principle 
 upon which the State rests,* and the essential elements which 
 enter into the idea, we are better prepared to approach what 
 constitutes the object proper of civil morality, namely, the 
 duties of citizens toward the country or the State. 
 
 85. Civil duties. — These duties are the following: Obedi- 
 ence to the laics; resjjed of ma(ji strides ; the ballot ; military 
 service ; educational obligations. 
 
 86. Obedience to the laws.— The first of the civil duties, 
 is obedience to the laws. The reason is evident. The State 
 rests on the law. It is the law which substitutes, for the will 
 of individuals, always more or less carried away by passion or 
 governed by self-interest, a general, impartial, and disinterested 
 rule. The law is the guaranty of all: it opposes itself to 
 force, or rather puts force in the service of justice, instead of 
 making of justice the slave of force. Pascal says : " Xot 
 being able to make that wliich is just, strong, men have wished 
 that what is strong should be just." This is the jest of a 
 misanthrope. Certainly the laws are not always as just as 
 they might be, despite the efforts made to render them so : 
 the reason of it is, the extreme complexity of interests be- 
 tween which it is difficult to find a true balance and just equi- 
 librium ; but such as they are, they are infinitely more just 
 than the right of the strongest, Avhich would alone reign if 
 there were no laws. 
 
 The empire of the laws is then that which secures orde)- in 
 a society, and consequently procures for each of its members 
 security and peace, and through these, the means cf devoting 
 himself to his work, whether intellectual or material, and of 
 reaping the fruits thereof. 
 
 * See on this subject the Notions d'instruction civiqiu.
 
 146 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 At the same time that the law guarantees order within, it 
 also insures the independence of the nation from without. 
 For a nation without laws, or which no longer obeys its laws, 
 falls into anarchy and becomes the prey of the first conqueror 
 who presents himself, as is shown by the history of Poland. 
 
 It is especially in democratic or republican states, tiiat 
 obedience to the laws is necessary, as it is there the most 
 difficult. 
 
 Montesquieu has shown with great sagacity the difficulty 
 and thereby the necessity of obedience to the laws in a democ- 
 racy ; in fact, what in other governments is obtained by con- 
 straint, in a democracy depends only upon the will of the 
 citizens. 
 
 "It is clear," says Montesquieu, "that in a monarchy, where he 
 who causes the laws to be executed is above the laws, there is less 
 virtue requisite than in a popular government, where he who causes 
 the laws to be executed, feels that he is himself subject to them, and will 
 have to bear the consequence of their violation. 
 
 " It is further clear that a monarch who, through bad advice or negli- 
 gence, ceases to have the laws executed, may easily repair the evil ; he 
 has but to change counselors or correct himself of his negligence. But 
 when in a popular government, the laws have ceased to be executed, as 
 this can only happen through the corruption of the republic, the State 
 is already lost." 
 
 Montesquieu then describes, in the strongest and liveliest 
 colors, a republican state where the laws have ceased to be 
 enforced. 
 
 "They were free with the laws ; they wish to be free without them. 
 Each citizen is as a slave escaped from the house of his master. What 
 before was called onaxim, is now called severity ; what was rule is now 
 annoying restraint ; what was attention, is now fear. The republic has 
 become booty, and its strength is no longer anything more than the 
 power of a few and the license of all. " 
 
 In the republics of Athens and Rome, as long as they were 
 prosperous and great, the empire of the laws Avas admirable. 
 Socrates, in his prison, gave of this a sublime example. He
 
 DUTIES TOWARD THE STATE. 14? 
 
 was unjustly condemned by his fellow-citizens to drink the 
 hemlock, namely, to die by poison. Meanwhile, his friends 
 pressed him to resort to flight ; and everything leads to the 
 belief that this would have been quite easy, as the judges 
 themselves almost wished to be relieved of the responsibility 
 of his death. Yet Socrates resisted, and refused to employ 
 this means of safety. The principal reason given by him was, 
 that, having been condemned by the laws of his country, ho 
 could save himself only by violating these laws. 
 
 This is what Plato has expressed in the dialogue entitled 
 Crito. The laws of the country are represented as addressing 
 a speech to Socrates ; it is called the Prosopopoeia''' of Crlto : 
 
 " Socrates," they will say to me, "was that our agreement, or was it 
 not rather that thou shouldst submit to the judgments rendered by the 
 republic ? . . . What cause of complaint liast thou against us tliat thou 
 shouldst try to destroy us? Dost thou not, in the firet place, owe us thy 
 life ? Was it not under our auspices that thy father took to himself the 
 companion that gave thee birth? If thou owest us thy birth and edu- 
 cation, canst thou deny that thou art our child and servant ? And if 
 this be so, thinkest thou thy rights equal to ours ; and that thou art 
 permitted to make us suffer for what we make thee suffer ? What ! in the 
 case of a father or a master, if thou hadst one, thou wouldst not have 
 the right to do to him what he would do to thee ; to speak to him in- 
 sultingly if he insulted tliee ; to strike him, if he struck thee, nor any- 
 thing like it ; and thou shouldst hold such a right toward thy country ! 
 and if we had sentenced thee to death, thinking the sentence just, thou 
 shouldst undertake to destroy us ! . . . Does not thy wisdom teach 
 thee that the country has a greater right to thy respect and homage, 
 that it is more august and more wise before the gods and the sages, than 
 father, motlier, and all ancestors ; that the country in its anger must 
 be respected, that one must convince it of its error through persuasion, 
 or obey its commands, suffer without miu'nmring whatever it orders to 
 be suffered, even to be beaten and loaded with chains ? . . . What else 
 then dost thou do ? " they would proceed to say, ' ' than violate the 
 treaty that binds thee to ns, and trample under foot thy agreement ? 
 
 * Prosopopoeia in rhetoric is the form of expression which consists in animating 
 physical or abstract things, iu lending them "a soul, a mind, a visage" (Boileau), 
 in making tliem speak or being spoken to as if they were present and living. In 
 Crito, the laws are personified, and it is they that speak.
 
 148 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 ... In suffering thy sentence, thou diest an honorable victim of the 
 iniquity, not of the laws, but of men ; but if thou takest to flight, thou 
 repellest unworthily injustice by injustice, evil by evil, and thou vio- 
 latest the treaty whereby thou wert under obligation to us : thou im- 
 perilest those it was thy duty to protect, thou imperilest thyself, thy 
 friends, thy country, and us. "We shall be thy enemies all thy life ; 
 and when thou shalt de.scend to the dead, our sisters, the laws of Hades, 
 knowing that thou hast tried thy best to destroy us here, will not re- 
 ceive thcc very favorably." 
 
 Pretended Exceptions. — The duty of obedience to the laws 
 must til en be admitted as a principle ; but is this duty abso- 
 lute 1 is it not susceptible of some exceptions ? A learned 
 theologian of the XVI. century, a Jesuit, Suarez [Traite des 
 lots, III., iv.), admits three exceptions to the obedience due to 
 the law : 1, if a law is unjust — for an unjust law is no law — 
 not only is one not obliged to accept, but even, when accepted, 
 one is not obliged to obey it ; 2, if it is too hard ; for then 
 one may reasonably presume that the law Avas not made by 
 the prince with the absolute intention that it should be 
 obeyed, but rather as an experiment ; now, under this sujv 
 position one can always begin by not observing it ; — 3, if, in 
 fact, the majority of the people have ceased to observe it, 
 even though the first who had commenced should have sinned ; 
 the minority is not obliged to observe what the majority has 
 abandoned : for one cannot suppose the prince to intend 
 oblii^ing such or such individuals to observe it, when the com- 
 muuity at large have ceased observing it. 
 
 These exceptions, proposed by Suarez, are inadmissible, at 
 least the two first. To authorize disobedience to unjust laws 
 is introducing into society an inward principle of destruction. 
 All law is supposed to be just, otherwise it is arbitrariness and 
 not law. Every man finds always the law that punishes him 
 unjust. If there are unjust laws, which is possible, we must 
 ask their abrogation ; and, in these our days, the liberty of 
 the press is ready to give satisfaction to the need of criticism ; 
 J)ut, in the meantime, we must obey. The second exception 
 is not tenable either. To say that it is permitted to disobey
 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 149 
 
 a law when it is too hard, in supposing that the prince only 
 made it for an experiment, is to permit the ehiding of all 
 the laws : for every law is hard for somebody ; and there is, 
 besides, no determining the hardness of laws. Such an ap- 
 preciation is, moreover, fictitious ; a prince who makes a law 
 is supposed a priori to wish it executed : to say that he only 
 meant to try us therewith is a wholly gratuitous invention. 
 Certainly one may by such conduct succeed in wearing a law 
 out when the prince is feeble; but it is not the less unjust, 
 and no State could resist such a cause of dissolution. As to 
 the third exception, it can be admitted that there are laws 
 fallen into disuse, and which are no longer applied by any one 
 because they stand in contradiction to the manners, and are 
 no longer of any use ; but, except in such case, it is nowise per- 
 mitted to say that it is sufficient for the majority to disobey 
 to entitle the minority to do the same. For instance, if it 
 pleased tliQ majority to engage in smuggling, or to make false 
 declarations in the matter of taxes, it would nowise acquit the 
 good citizens from continuing to fulfill their duty. 
 
 Now, if it is an absolute duty to obey a law, we must, at 
 the same time, admit as a corrective, the right of criticising 
 the law. This right is the right of the minority, and it is 
 recognized to-day in all civilized countries. A law may, in 
 fact, be unjust or erroneous : it may have been introduced by 
 passion, by party-spirit ; even without having been originally 
 unjust, it may have become so in time through change in 
 manners; it may also be the work of ignorance, prejudice, etc.; 
 and thereby hurtful. Hence the necessity of what is called 
 the liberty of tlie press, the inviolable guaranty of the minori- 
 ties. But the right of criticisinri the law is not the right of 
 insulting it. Discussion is not insult. Every law is entitled 
 to respect because it is a law; it is the expression of the 
 public reason, the public will, of sovereignty. One may try 
 to persuade the sovereign by reasoning, and induce him to 
 change the law ; one should not inspire contempt which leads 
 unavoidably to disobedience.
 
 150 ELEMENTS OF MOIIALS. 
 
 87. Respect for magistrates. — Another duty, which is 
 the corollary to obedience to the laws, is the respect fur the 
 magistrate. The magistrate — that is, the functionary, whoever 
 he be, in charge of the execution of the laws — should be obeyed, 
 not only because he represents force, but also because he is the 
 expression of the law. For this reason, he should be for all 
 an object of respect. The person is nothing ; it is the 
 authority itself that is entitled to respect, and not such or 
 such an individual. Many ignorant persons are always dis- 
 posed to regard the functionary as a tjTant, and every act of 
 authority, an act of oppression. This is a puerile and lament- 
 able prejudice. The greatest oppression is ahvays that of in- 
 dividual passions, and the most dangerous of despotisms is an- 
 archy : for then it is the right of the strongest which alone 
 predominates. Authority, whatever it be, makes the mainten- 
 ance of order its special interest, and order is the guaranty of 
 every one. The magistrate is, moreover, entitled to respect, as 
 he represents the country ; if the country be a family, the 
 authority of the magistrate should be regarded tlie same as 
 that of the head of the family, an authority entitled to respect 
 even in its errors. 
 
 88. The ballot. — Of all the special obligations which we 
 have enumerated, the most important to point out is that of the 
 ballot, because it is free and left entirely at the will of the citizens. 
 
 In regard to the other obligations, constraint may, up to a 
 certain point, supply the good will ; he who does not pay his 
 taxes from a sense of duty, is obliged to pay them from neces- 
 sity ; but the ballot is free ; one may vote or not vote ; one may 
 vote for Avhom he pleases : there is no other restraint than 
 the sense of duty ; for this reason, it is necessary to insist on 
 this kind of obligation. 
 
 1. It is a duty to vote. What in fact the law demands, in 
 granting to the citizens the right of suffrage, is that the will 
 of the citizens be made manifest, and that the decisions about 
 to be taken, be those of the majority. This principle of the 
 right of the majorities has often been questioned : for, it is
 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACELFICE. 151 
 
 said, why might not the majority be mistaken 1 Certainly, biit 
 why might not the minority be also mistaken 1 The majority 
 is a rule which puts an end to disputes and forestalls the 
 appeal to force. The minorities certainly may have cause for 
 complaint, for no rule is absolutely perfect ; but they have the 
 chance of becoming majorities in their turn. This is seen in 
 all free States, where the majority is constantly being modified 
 with the time. If such is the principle of elective governments 
 (whatever be the measure or extension of the electoral right), 
 it can be seen of what importance it is that the true majority 
 show itself ; and this can only take place through the greatest 
 possible number of voters. If, for example, half of the citi- 
 zens abstain, and that of the half that vote, one-half alone, 
 plus one, constitute the majority, it follows that it is a fourth 
 of the citizens that make the law ; which would seem to be 
 reversing the principle of majorities. This is certainly not 
 absolutely unjust, for it may be said that those who do not 
 vote admit implicitly the result obtained ; but this negative 
 compliance has not the same value as a positive compliance. 
 
 To abstain from voting may have two causes : either indif- 
 ference, or ignorance of the questions propounded, and conse- 
 quently the impossibility of deciding one Avay or another. In 
 the first case, especiallj^ is the abstaining culpable. No citi- 
 zen has the right to be indifferent to public affairs. Skepti- 
 cism in this matter is want of patriotism. In the second case, 
 the question is a more delicate one. How can 1 vote 1 it may 
 be said. I understand nothing about the question ; I have 
 no opinion ; I have no preference as to candidates. To com- 
 bat this evil, it is, of course, necessary that education gain a 
 larger development, and that liberty enter into customs and 
 manners. There will be seen then a greater and greater num- 
 ber of citizens understandingly interested in public afiPairs. 
 But even in the present state of things, a man may still fulfill 
 his duty in consulting enlightened men, in choosing some one 
 in whom he may have confidence ; in short, in making every 
 effort to gain information.
 
 153 ELEME]SrTS OF MORALS. 
 
 2. Tlie vote should be disintei'ested. The question here is 
 not only one concerning the venality of the vote, which is a 
 shameful act, punishable, moreover, by the laws ; but it em- 
 braces disinterestedness in a wider sense. One should in 
 voting consider the interests of the country alone, and in 
 nowise, or at least, only secondarily, the interests of localities, 
 unless the question be precisely as to those latter interests, 
 when voting for municipal officers. 
 
 3. The vote should be free. The electors or representatives 
 of an assembly should obey their conscience alone : they should 
 repel all pressure, as well that from committees arrogating 
 omnipotence, as from the power itself. 
 
 4. In fine, the vote should be enlightened. Each voter should 
 gather information touching the matter in hand, the candi- 
 dates, their morality, their general fitness for their duty, their 
 opinions. In order to vote with knowledge of the facts, one 
 must have some education. That, of course, depends on our 
 parents ; but what depends on us, is to develop the education 
 already obtained ; we must read the papers, but not one 
 only, or we may become the slaves of a watch- word and of 
 bigoted minds ; we must also gather information from men 
 more enlightened, etc. 
 
 89. Taxes. — It is a duty to pay the taxes ; for, witliout the 
 contributions of each citizen, the State would have no budget, 
 and could not set the offices it is commissioned with, to work. 
 
 How could justice be rendered, instruction be given, the 
 territory be defended, the roads kept up, without money? 
 This money, besides, is voted by the representatives of the 
 country, elected for that purpose. But if the State is not to 
 tax the citizens without their consent and supervision, they in 
 their turn should not refuse it their money. Certainly, this 
 evil is not much to be feared, for in the absence of good will, 
 there is still the constraint which can be brought to bear upon 
 refractory citizens. Yet there are still means of defrauding 
 the law. The common people believe too readily that to 
 deceive the State is not deceiving ; they do not scruple to
 
 DUTIES OF CHAEITT AND SELF-SACRIFICE. 153 
 
 make false declarations Avhere declarations are (required, to 
 pass prohibited goods over the frontier, etc.; which are so 
 many Avays of refusing to pay the taxes. 
 
 90. Military service, as are the taxes, is obligatory by 
 law, and consequently does not depend on individual choice. 
 But it is not enough to do our duty because we are obliged 
 to do it ; we must also do it conscientiously and heartily. 
 
 " It is not enough to pay out of one's purse," says a moralist ; * "one 
 must also pay with one's person." Certainly, it is not for anyone's 
 pleasure that he leaves his parents and friends, his -work and habits, to 
 go to do military service in barracks, and, if needs be, to fight on the 
 frontiers. But who will defend the country in case of attack if it be 
 not its youn;^ and robust men ? And must they not learn the use of 
 arms in order to be efficient on the day when the country shall need 
 them ? This is why there are armies. Certainl}^ it would be a thou- 
 sand times better if there were no need of this, if all nations were just 
 enough never to make war with each other. But whilst this ideal is being 
 realized, the least any one can do is to hold himself in readiness to de- 
 fend his liberty, his honor. . . . Thanks to a good army, one not only 
 can remain quiet at home, but the humblest citizen is respected wher- 
 ever he goes, wherever his interests take him. In looking carefully at 
 the matter it can be seen that even in respect to .simple interests, the 
 time spent in the service of the ilag, is nothing in comparison with the 
 advantages derived from it. Is it not because others have been there 
 before us that we have been enabled to grow up peacefully and happy to 
 the age of manhood ? Is it not just that we should take their place and 
 in our turn watch over the country ? And when we return, others will 
 take our place, and we, in our turn, shall be enabled to raise a family, 
 attend to our business, and lead a quiet and contented life. 
 
 Let us add to these judicious remarks that military service 
 is a school of discipline, order, obedience, courage, patience, 
 and as such, contributes to strengthening the mind and body, 
 to developing personality, to forming good citizens. 
 
 The principal infractions of the duty of military service are : 
 1, mutilations by which some render themselves improper for 
 service ; 2, simulated infirmities by which one tries to escape 
 from the obligation ; 3, desertion in times of war, and what 
 
 ■" Droits el devoirs clc Vhomme, Henri Marion, Paris, ISSO, i>. 07.
 
 154 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 is more criminal still, passing over to the enemy ; 4, insubor- 
 dination or disobedience to superiors. 
 
 This latter vice is the most important to point out, the 
 others being more or less rare ; but insubordination is an evil 
 most frequent in our armies, and a most dangerous evil. Mil- 
 itary operations have becoTue so complicated and difficult in 
 these days, that nothing is possible without the strictest 
 obedience on the part of soldiers. In times when individual 
 valor was almost everything, insubordination might have pre- 
 sented fewer inconveniences ; but in these days, all is done 
 tlii'ough masses, and if the men do not obey, the armies are 
 necessarily beaten because they cannot oppose an equal force 
 to the enemy. Suppose the enemy to lie 50,000 men strong 
 in a certain place, that you yourself belong to a body of 
 50,000, and that you all together reach the same place at the 
 same time as the enemy : you are equ;d in numbers, one 
 against one, and you have at least as many chances as they; 
 and if, besides, you have other qualities which they have not, 
 you Avili have more chances. But if in the corps you belong 
 to, there is no discipline, if every one disobeys — if, for example, 
 when the order for marching is given, each starts when he 
 pleases, and marches but as he pleases, you will arrive too late, 
 and the enemy will have taken the best positions ; there is 
 then one chance lost. If, moreover, through the disorder in 
 your ranks, you do not all arrive together, if there are but 
 25,000 men in a line, the others remaining behind, these 
 25,000 will be overwhelmed. As for those who do not reach 
 the spot, think you they will escape the consequences of the 
 battle % By no means ; the disorder wiU not save them ; it 
 will deliver them defenseless into the hands of the pursuing 
 enemy. Now, all disorder is followed by similar consequences. 
 On the other hand, the obedience of the soldier being sure, 
 the army is as one man who lends himself to all the plans, all 
 the combinations ; who takes advantage of all the happy 
 chances, who runs less dangers because the business proceeds 
 more rapidly, and tliat with less means one obtains more re-
 
 DUTIES OF CHARITY AND SELF-SACEIFICE. 155 
 
 suits. Such are the reasons for the punctilious discii)line 
 required of soldiers. "VVe are treated as machines, you will 
 say. Yes ; if you resist : for then constraint becomes indis- 
 pensable ; but if you understand the necessity of the disci- 
 pline, if you submit to it on your own accord, then are you no 
 longer machines : you are men. The only way of not being a 
 macliine is then precisely to obey freely. 
 
 It has often been asked, in these days, whether the soldier 
 is always obliged to obey, even such orders as his conscience 
 disapproves of. These are dangerous questions to raise, and 
 they tend to imperil discipline without much profit to morality. 
 jSTo doubt if a soldier were ordered to commit a crime — as, for 
 example, to go and kill a defenseless man — ^lie would have the 
 riyht to refuse doinfj it. At the time of the massacre of St. 
 Bartholomew, an order was sent to all the provinces to follow 
 the example of Paris. One of the governors, the Yiscount 
 Orthez, replied that his soldiers did not do executioner's ser- 
 vice ; and this answer was admired by all the Avorld. But 
 these are very rare cases ; and it is dangerous for such uncer- 
 tain eventualities to inspire mistrust against order and disci- 
 pline, which are the certain guaranties of the defense and inde- 
 pendence of a country. 
 
 91. Educational obligation. — The duty to instruct children 
 results from the natural relations between parents and children. 
 The obligation to raise children implies, in fact, the obligation 
 to instruct them. There is no more education without instruc- 
 tion than instruction without education. To-day educational 
 obligation is inserted in the law, and has its sanction therein. 
 But parents owe it to themselves to obey the law without 
 constraint. 
 
 92. Civil courage. — ^Ye have already s^wken above of 
 civil courage as opposed to military courage. But here is the 
 place to return to this subject. Let us recall a fine page by 
 J. Barni in his book on Morality in Democracy : 
 
 The stoics defined courage admirably : Virtue combating for equity. 
 Civil courage might be defined : virtue defending the liberty and rights
 
 156 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 
 
 of citizens against tyranny, whether this tyranny be that of the masses 
 or a despot's. As much courage, and perhaps more, is demanded in the 
 first case as in the second ; it is less easy to resist a crowd than a single 
 man, were there nothing more to be feared than unpo2mlarity, one of 
 the disadvantages hardest to brave. How much more difficult when it 
 comes to risking a popularity already acquired ? Yet must one, if neces- 
 sary, be able to make the sacrifice. True civil courage shows itself the 
 same in all cases. Thus, Socrates, this type of civil virtue, as he was 
 of all other virtues, refused, at the peril of his life, to obey the iniqui- 
 tous orders of the tyrant Critias ; and he resisted with no less courage 
 the people, who, contrary to justice and law, asked for the deatli of the 
 generals who conquered at Arginusce. Another name presents itself to 
 the memory, namely, that of Boissy d'Anglas, immortalized for the 
 heroism he showed as president of the National Convention, the 1st 
 Prairial, year II. (20 May, 1795). Assailed by the clamors of the crowd 
 which had invaded the Assembly, threatened by the guns which were 
 pointed at him, he remains impassible ; and without even apjjearing to 
 be aware of the danger he is running, he reminds the crowd of the re- 
 spect due to national representatives. They cry : " We do not want 
 thy Assembly ; the people is here ; thou art the president of the people ; 
 sign, says one, the decree shall be good, or I kill thee ! " He quietly 
 replied : ' ' Life to me is a trifle ; you speak of committing a great crime ; 
 I am a representative of the people ; I am president of the convention ; " 
 and he refused to sign. The head of a representative of the people who 
 had just been massacred by the populace for having attempted to pre- 
 vent the invasion of the Convention, is presented to him on the end of 
 a pike ; he salutes it and remains firm at his post. This is a great ex- 
 ample of civil courage.
 
 CHAPTER VIIT. 
 
 professio:n"al duties, 
 
 S U M. M A R Y . 
 
 Professional duties : founded on the division of social work. 
 The absence of a profession — Leisure. — Is it a duty to have a pro- 
 fession ? Rules for the choice of a profession. 
 
 Division of social professions, — Plato's theory ; the Saint Siraonian 
 theory ; Fichte's theory. Resume and synthesis of these theories. 
 
 Mechanic and industrial professions. — Employers and employees. — 
 Workmen and farmers. 
 
 Military duties. 
 
 Public functions. — Elective functions ; the magistracy and the bar. 
 
 Science. — Teaching. — Medicine. — The arts and letters. ^ 
 
 93. Division of social work. — Independently of the gen- 
 eral duties to which man is held, as man or member of a par- 
 ticular group (family, country), there are .still others relating 
 to the situation he holds in society, to the part he plays 
 therein, to his particular Mne of work. Society is, in fact, a 
 sort of great enterprise where all pursue a common end, 
 namely, the greatest happiness or the greatest morality of the 
 human species ; but as this end is very complex, it is neces- 
 sary that the parts to be played toward reaching it be divided ; 
 and, as in industrial pursuits, unity of purpose, rapidity of 
 execution, perfection of work, cannot be obtained except by 
 division of labor, so is there also in society a sort of aocial 
 division of labor, which allots to each his share of the com- 
 mon work. The special work each is appointed to accomplish
 
 158 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 in society is what is called a profession, and the peculiar duties 
 of each profession are the 2^^'ofessional duties. 
 
 94. The absence of a profession — Leisure. — The first 
 question to be considered is, whether a man should have a 
 profession, or if, having received from his family a sufficient 
 fortime to live without doing anything, he has a right to dis- 
 pense with all profession and give himself up to what is called 
 leisicre. Some schools have condemned leisure absolutely, 
 have denounced what they call idlers as the enemies of society. 
 This is a rather delicate c[uestion, and concerning Avhich one 
 must guard against arriving at a too absolute conclusion. 
 
 Anil, in the first place, there cannot be question hero of approving 
 or permitting that sort of foolish and shameful leisure to which some 
 young prodigals, without sense of dignity and morality, are given, who 
 dissipate in disorder hereditary fortunes, or the wealth obtained by the 
 indefatigal)le labor of their fathers. It is sometimes said that this does 
 more good than harm, because fortunes pass thus from hand to hand, 
 and each profits by it in his turn. But who does not know that to make 
 a good use of a fortune is more profitable to society than dissipation ? 
 However that may be, nothing is more unworthy of youth than this 
 nameless idleness, where all the strength of the body and soul, the 
 energy of character, the life of the intelligence, all the gifts of nature 
 are squandered. There have been sometimes seen superior souls who 
 rose from such disorders victorious over themselves, and stronger for 
 the combat of life. But how rare such examples ! How often does it 
 not, on the contrary, happen that the idleness of his youth determines 
 the whole course of the man's life 1 
 
 Sometimes, it is true, one may choose a life of leisure designedly, not 
 with an idea of dissipation, but, on the contrary, ^vith that of being free 
 to do great things. Certain independent minds believe that a profes- 
 sion deprives a person of his liberty, narrows him, fastens him down to 
 mean and monotonous occupations, sul)jects him to conventional and 
 narrow modes of thinking — in short, that a positive kind of work weak- 
 ens and lowers the mind. There is some truth in these remarks. Every- 
 body has observed how men of dilferent professions differ in their mode 
 of thinking. What more dilierent than a physician, a man of letters, 
 a soldier, a merchant ? All these men thought about the same in their 
 youth ; they see each other twenty years later ; each has undergone a 
 peculiar bent ; each has his j)articular physiognomy, costume, etc Not 
 only has the profession absorbed the man, but it has also deadened his
 
 PKOFESSIONAL DUTIES. 159 
 
 iudividiiality. One may conceive, then, how some ambitious minds 
 may expect to escape the yoke and preserve their liberty in renouncing 
 all professions. To be subject to no fixed and prescribed occupation, 
 to depend upon no master, to nobly cultivate the mind in every direc- 
 tion, to make vast experiments, to be a stranger to nothing, bound to 
 notliing, is not that, seemingly, the height of human happiness ? Some 
 men of genius have followed this system, and found no bad results from 
 it. Descartes relates to us in his Discours sur la Methods (Part I. ), that, 
 during nine years of his life, he did nothing but "roll about the world, 
 hither and thither, trying to be a spectator, rather than an actor, in the 
 comedies played therein." He tells us further, that he employed his 
 "youth in traveling, in visiting courts and armies, in associating with 
 people of various humors and conditions, in gathering divers experi- 
 ences, in testing himseK in the encounters chance favored him with, 
 etc." That this may be an admirable school, a niarvelously instructive 
 arena for well-endowed minds, no one will doubt ; but what is possible 
 and useful to a Descartes or a Pascal, will it suit the majority of men ? 
 Is it not to be feared that this wandering in every direction, this habit 
 of having nowhere a foot-hold, maj' make the mind superficial and 
 weaken its energy ? 
 
 He who renounces being an actor, to be only a spectator, as did Des- 
 cartes, takes too easy a part ; he frees himself from all responsibility : 
 this may sharpen the mind, but there will always remain some radical 
 deficiency. Force of character, however, and personal superiority may 
 set at naught all these conclusions — sound as they in general are in 
 theory. * 
 
 It may, therefore, be doubtful whether a life of leisure, 
 with some exceptions, be good, for him who gives himself up 
 to it ; but what is not legitimate, is the kind of jealousy and 
 envy which those who work often entertain against those who 
 have nothing to do. There is a legitimate leisure and nobly 
 employed. For e.Kample, a legitimate leisure is that which, 
 obtained through hereditary fortune, is engaged in gi-atuitously 
 serving the country, in study, in the management of proi)erty, 
 the cultivation of land, in travels devoted to observation and 
 the amelioration of human things, in a noble intercourse with 
 society. It is a grievous error to wish to blot out of societies 
 all existence that has not gain for its end, and is not connected 
 
 * The preceding quotation is from our Philosophie du bonheur.
 
 IGO ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 with daily wants. Property and riches are true social func- 
 tions, and among the most difficult of functions. Those who 
 know how to use them with profit, fill one of the most useful 
 Darts in society, and* cannot be said to be without a profession. 
 
 95. Of the choice of a profession. — If it is necessary in 
 society to have a })rofession, it is important that it be well 
 chosen. He who is not in his right place, is wanting in some 
 essential quality to fill the one he occupies : 
 
 " If the abbe de Carignan had yielded to the wishes of Madame do 
 Soissons, his mother, what glory would not the house of Savoy have 
 been deprived of ! The empire would have been deprived of one of its 
 greatest captains, one of the bulwarks of Christianity. Prince Eugene 
 was a very great man in the profession they wished to interdict him ; 
 what would he have been in the profession they wished him to em- 
 brace ? M. de Ketz insisted absolutely that his youngest son should be 
 an ecclesiastic, despite the repugnance he manifested for this profession, 
 despite the scandalous conduct he indulged in to escape from it. This 
 duke [M. de Retz] gives to the church a sacrilegious priest, to Paris a 
 sanguinary archbishop, to the kingdom a great rebel, and deprives his 
 house of the last prop that could have sustained it." * 
 
 One should, therefore, study his vocation, not decide too 
 quickly, get information on the nature and duties of different 
 professions ; then consult his taste, but without allowing him- 
 self to be carried away by illusory, proud, inconsistent fancies; 
 consult wise and enlightened persons; finally, if necessary, 
 make certain experiments, taking care, however, to stop in time. 
 
 96. Division of social professions. — It would be impos- 
 sible to make a survey of all the professions society is com- 
 posed of : it were an infinite labor. Vie must, therefore, 
 bring the professions down to a certain number of types or 
 classes, which alloAV the reducing of the rules oi professional 
 morality to a small number. Several philosophers have busied 
 themselves in divitling and classifying social occupations. 
 We shall recall only the principal ones of these divisions. 
 
 Plato has reduced the different social functions to four 
 
 * Philosophie sociale, Essai sur k^s duvoirs ile I'liomiiie et clu citoyen, par I'abbe 
 Durosoi (Paris, ITSri).
 
 PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. IGl 
 
 classes, namely : 1 , magistrates ; 2, warriors ; 3, farmers ; 
 4, artisans. The two first classes are the governing classes ; 
 the two others are the classes governed. The two first 
 apply themselves to moral things : education, science, the 
 defense of the country ; the others to material life. . This 
 classification of Plato is somewhat too general for our modern 
 societies, which comprise more varied and numerous elements : 
 these divisions, nevertheless, are important, and should be 
 taken account of in morals. 
 
 Since Plato, there is scarcely any but the socialist Saint- 
 Simon who attempted to classify the social careers. He 
 reduces them to three groups : indastnals, artists, and scien- 
 tists (savants). The meaning of this classification is this : the 
 object of human labor, according to Saint-Simon, is the cultiva- 
 tion of the globe — that is to say, the greatest possible produc- 
 tion ; but this is the object of productive labor ; it is what 
 is called industry. Now, the cultivation of nature requires a 
 knowledge of nature's laws, namely, science. Science and 
 invention are, then, the two great branches of social activity. 
 According to Saint-Simon, work — that is to say, industry — 
 must take the place of war ; science, that of the laws. Hence 
 no warriors, no magistrates ; or, rather, the scientists (savants) 
 should be the true magistrates. Science and industry, how- 
 ever, having only relation to material nature, Saint-Simon 
 thought there was a part to be given to the moral order, to the 
 beautiful or the good ; hence a third class, which he now calls 
 artists, now moralists and j^hilosophers, and to whom a sort of 
 religious role is assigned. It will be seen that this theory is 
 absolutely artificial and Utopian, that it has relation to an 
 imaginary system, and not to the order of things as it is : it is 
 an ingenious conception, but quite impracticable. 
 
 One of the greatest of modern moralists, the German phil- 
 osopher Fichte, assigned, in his Practical Moralitjj, a part to 
 the doctrine of professional duties ; and he began by giving a 
 theory of the professions more complete and satisfactory than 
 any of the preceding ones.
 
 162 ELEMEISTTS OF MOEALS. 
 
 Fichte makes of the special professions two great divisions : 
 1, those which have for their object the keeping up of mate- 
 rial Ufe ; 2, those which have for their object the keeping up 
 of intellectual and moral life. On the one side, mechanical 
 labor ; on the other, intellectual and moral labor. 
 
 The object of mechanical labor is i^roduction, vianufacture, 
 and exchange of produce ; hence three functions : those of 
 producers, manufacturers, and merchants. 
 
 The moral and spiritual labor has also three objects : 1, the 
 administration of justice in the State ; 2, the theoretic culture 
 of intelligence ; 3, the moral culture of the will. Hence three 
 classes: 1, public functions; 2, science and instruction; 
 3, the Church and the clergy. Lastly, there is in human 
 nature a faculty which serves as a link between the theoretical 
 and the practical faculties :. it is the esthetic sense ; the sense 
 of the beautiful ; hence a last class, that of artists. 
 
 This theory is more scientific than that of the Saint-Simo- 
 nians, but it is still somewhat defective ; it is not clear, for 
 example, in a moral point of view, that there is a great diifer- 
 ence of duties between the producers, manufacturers, and mer- 
 chants : they are economical rather than moral distinctions. 
 Plato's division is better, when he puts the farmers in oppo- 
 sition to the artisans. It is certain that there are, es- 
 pecially in these days, interesting moral questions, which differ 
 according as the Avorkmen live in the city or in the country. 
 We therefore prefer on this point Plato's division ; and we 
 ■will treat, on the one side, industry and commerce, and on the 
 other agricidture ; and in each of these divisions we will dis- 
 tinguish those who direct or remunerate the Avork, namely, 
 contractors, masters, proprietors, capitalists in some degree, 
 and those Avho Avork Avith their hands and receive AA'ages. 
 
 In characterizing the second class of careers, those which 
 have moral interests for their object, Ave Avill again borroAV of 
 Plato one of the names of his division, namely, the defense of 
 the State. As to the administration of justice in the State, it 
 is divided, as Ave haA'e already said, into three powers : the
 
 PROFESSIOXAL DUTIES. 1G3 
 
 executive, legislatice, and judicial powers. Hence three orders 
 of f uuctions : administration, deputation, and the magistracy, 
 with which latter is connected the bar. 
 
 As to science, it is either sj^ecidative or practical. 
 
 In the first case, it only concerns the individual ; we have 
 spoken of it under individual duties (ch. iv.). In the second 
 case, it has for its object appliccdion, and bears either on 
 things or on men. 
 
 Applied to things, science is associated with the industry 
 we have already spoken of. Applied to men, it is medicine, 
 in respect to bodies ; morality or religion, in respect to hearts 
 and souls. 
 
 Lastly, along with the sciences Avhich seek the true, there 
 are the letters and the arts which treat of and produce the 
 beautiful. Hence a last class, namely, poets, wnters, artists. 
 
 Such is about the outhne of what a system of social pro- 
 fessions might bo. A treatise of professional morahty which 
 would be in harmony with this outline, would be all one 
 science, the elements of which scarcely exist, being dispersed 
 in a multitude of works, or rather in the practice and interior 
 life of each profession. We will content ourselves with a few 
 general indications. 
 
 97. I. Mechanical and industrial professions. — 1. Em- 
 ployers and employees. — The professions wliich have for their 
 object the material cultivation of the globe, and particidarly 
 industry and commerce, are divided into two great classes : 1, 
 on one side, those v.'ho, having capital, unchrtake and direct 
 _the Avorks ; 2, those who execute them Avith their arms and 
 receive icages. The first are the employers ; the second tlis 
 employees. What are the respective duties of these two 
 classes 1 
 
 98. Duties of employers. — The duties of aU those who, 
 by virtue of their ciipilal legitimately acquired, or by virtue 
 of their intelligence, command, direct and jiay for the work 
 done by men, are the folloAviug : 
 
 1. They should raise the Avages of the Avorkmen as liigh as
 
 104 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 the State of the market permits ; and they should not wait to 
 be compelled to it by strikes or threats of strikes. Conversaly, 
 they should not, from weakness or want of foresight, yield to 
 every threat of the kind ; for in raising the wages unreason- 
 ,ahly high, one may disable himself from entering into foreign 
 'competition, or may cause the ruin of the humbler manufac- 
 turers who have not sufficient capital. 
 
 2. Capitalists, employers and masters shoidd obey strictly 
 the laws established for the protection of childhood. They 
 shoidd employ the work of minors within proper limits, and 
 according to the conditions fixed by the law. 
 
 3. Their task is not done when they have secured to the 
 workmen and their cliildren the share of work and wages 
 Avhieli is their due, even when they are content to claim noth- 
 ing beyond justice. They have yet to fulfill toward their sub- 
 ordinates the duties of protection and benevolence ; they 
 must assist them, relieve them, be it in accidents happening 
 to them in the work the\^ are engaged in, or in illness. They 
 must spare them suspensions of work as much as possible ; in 
 short, they must, through all sorts of establishments — schools, 
 mutnal-help societies, workmen-cities (cith ouvrieres), etc. — 
 encourage education, economy, property, yet without forcing 
 upon them anything that would diniinisli their own responsi- 
 bility or impair their personal dignity. 
 
 99. Duties of workingmen. — The duties of workingmen 
 should correspond to those of the employers. 
 
 1. The workingmen owe it to themselves not to cherish in 
 their hearts feelings of hatred, envy, covetousness, and revolt 
 against the employers. Division of work requires that in in- 
 dustrial matters some should direct and others be directed. 
 Material exploitation requires capital; and those who bring 
 this capital, the fruit of former work, are as necessary to the 
 workingmen to utilize their work as these are to the first 
 in utilizing their capital. 
 
 2. The workingmen owe their work to the establishment 
 whicli pays them ; it is as niucli tlieir interest as their duty.
 
 PROFESSIOXAL DUTIES. 165 
 
 The result of laziness and intem'perance is misery. AVe cannot 
 enough deplore the use of what is called the Mondays — a day 
 of rest over and beyond the legitimate and necessary Sunday. 
 It is certain that one day of rest in a "week is absolutely a 
 necessity. Xo man can nor ought (except in circumstances 
 unavoidable) work without interruption the whole year through. 
 But the week's day of rest once secure, all that is over and 
 above that, is taken from what belongs to the family and the 
 provisions against old age. 
 
 3. Supposing that, in consequence of the progress of in- 
 dustry, the number of hours of rest could be increased — that, 
 for example, the hours of the day's work coidd be reduced — 
 these hours of rest should then be devoted to the family, to 
 the cultivation of the mind, and not to the fatal pleasures of 
 intoxication. 
 
 The workingmen have certainly' a right to ask, as far as 
 they are v.-orthy of it, equality of consideration and influence 
 in society ; and all our modem laws are so constituted as to 
 insure them this equality. It rests with them, therefore, to 
 render themselve.s worthy of this new equality by their morals 
 and their education. To have their chddrcn educated ; to 
 educate themselves ; to occupy their leisure with family inter- 
 ests, in reading, in innocent and elevating recreations (music, 
 the theatre, gardening, if possible), it is by all such pursuits 
 that the workingmen will reduce or entirely remove the in- 
 equality of manners and education which may still exist be- 
 tween them and their superiors. 
 
 4. "Workingmen cannot be blamed for seeking to defend 
 their interests and increase their comforts ; in so doing they 
 only do what all men should do. They have also the right, 
 in order to get satisfaction, to attach to their work such con- 
 ditions as they may reasonably desire : it is the law of de- 
 mand and supply, common to all industries. In short, as an 
 individual refusal to work is a means absolutely inefficacious 
 to bring about an increase of wages, it must be admitted that 
 the workingmen have a right to act in concert and collect-
 
 166 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 ively to refuse to Avork, and, collectively, to make their con- 
 ditions ; hence the right of strikes recognized to-day by the 
 law. But this right, granted to the principle of the liberty of 
 work, must not be turned against tliis principle. The work- 
 ingmen who freely refuse to work should not stand in the 
 way of those who, finding their demands ill-founded, persist 
 in continuing to work under the existing conditions. All 
 violence, all tlireats to force into the strike him who is opposed 
 thereto, is an injustice and a tyranny. This violence is con- 
 demned by law ; but as it is easily disguised, it cannot alwa^^s 
 be reached ; it is, therefore, through the morals one must act 
 upon it — through persuasion and education. The workmen 
 must gradually adopt the morals of liberty, must respect each 
 other. For the same reason they should respect women's 
 work ; should not interdict to their wives and daughters the 
 right of improving their condition by work. Unquestionably 
 it is much to be desired that woman should become more ami 
 more centred in domestic duties, the care of her household and 
 family. This is her principal part in the social work. Ikit 
 as long as the imperfect condition of the laboring classes does 
 not permit this state of things, it may be said that the work- 
 men work against themselves in trying to close the field of 
 industry to women. 
 
 The tendency toward the equality of wages, as the ideal of 
 the remuneration of work, is also to be condemned. Nothing 
 is more contrary to the spirit of the times, which demands 
 that every one be treated according to his wOrk. Capacity, 
 painstaking, personal efforts, are elements that demand to be 
 proportionately remunerated. Let us add, that it is the duty 
 of head masters, in the case of a good will, succumbing to 
 physical inability, to conciliate benevolence and ecpiity with 
 justice; this, however, is only an exceptioiud (-ise. IJut, as a 
 principle, each one should be rewarded only for what he has 
 done. Otherwise there Avould be an inducement to indiffer- 
 ence and idlcni'Rs. 
 
 100. Workmen and farmers. — Having considered work-
 
 PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 1G7 
 
 men in their relations with their masters, let iis consider them 
 now on a line with farmers ; for, according as one lives in the 
 city or in the country, there is a great difference in manners, 
 and consequently in duties. The workmen who live in the 
 city are for that very reason more apt to acquire new ideas 
 and general information ; they have many more means of 
 educating themselves ; the very pleasures of the city afford 
 them opportunities to cultivate their mind. Besides, living 
 nearer to each other, they are more disposed to consider their 
 common interests and turn them to account. Hence advan- 
 tages and disadvantages. The advantages are, the superiority 
 of intellectual culture, the greater aptitude in conceiving gen- 
 eral ideas, a stronger interest in public affiiirs ; in all these 
 respects, city-life presents advantages over country-life. But 
 hence also arise great dangers. The Avorkingmen, quite ready 
 to admit general ideas, but without sufficient information and 
 political experience to control them, abandon themselves 
 readily to Utopian preachings and instigations to revolt. 
 Further, very much preoccupied with their common interests, 
 they are too mucli disposed to think only of their own class, 
 and to form, as it were, a class apart in society and in the 
 nation. Hence for the Avorkmeu a double duty : 1, to obtain 
 enough information not to Ijlindly follow all demagogues ; 
 2, to learn to consider their interests as connected Avith all 
 those of the other classes and professions. 
 
 Farmers are indebted to the country-life for certain advan- 
 tages, Avhich carry Avith them, at the same time, certain dis- 
 advantages. The farmer is generally more attached to social 
 stability than the more or less shifting inhabitants of the 
 toAvns ; he thinks much of property ; he does not like to 
 change in his manners and ideas. He is thereby a poAverful 
 support to conservatism and the spirit of tradition, Avithout 
 Avhicli society could not live and last. He has, moreover, had 
 till noAV tlie great merit of not singling himself out, of not 
 separating his interests from those of the country in general. 
 Thus, on these two points — opposition to Utopias, preservation
 
 168 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 of social unity — the countiyman serves as a counterpoise to all 
 the opposite tendencies in the workmen. But these very 
 qualities are, perhaps, the result of certain defects : namely, 
 the absence of information and enlightenment. The country- 
 man sees not very much bej^ond his church-steeple ; material 
 life occupies and absorbs him wholly ; individual and personal 
 interests are absolutely predominant in him. He is but little 
 disposed to give his children any education ; and he is dis- 
 posed to look upon them as so many instruments of work less 
 expensive than others. The idea of a general country, general 
 interests surpassing private interests, is more or less wanting 
 in him. "What it is necessary to persuade the countryman of, 
 is the usefulness of education. He should be inspired with a 
 taste for liberty, which is a security to him and his family, as 
 well as to all the other classes of society. The workman in 
 becoming better informed, the farmer more informed, they 
 will gradually blend with the middle classes, and tliere will 
 then be no longer those oppositions of classes and interests so 
 dangerous at the present day. (See Appendix.) 
 
 101. II- Military duties. — We have already considered 
 military duties, as the duty of citizens toward the State ; we 
 have now to consider here military duties in themselves, as 
 special duties, peculiar to a certain class of citizens, to a certain 
 social profession. 
 
 1. It is useless to say that the peculiar virtue and special 
 duty of the military class is courage. We have but to refer 
 the reader to what Avill be said further on (ch. xiv.) touching 
 the virtue of courage, in regard to the duties of man toward 
 himself. 
 
 2. Patriotism is a duty of all classes and all professions ; 
 but it is particularly one Avith those who are commissioned to 
 defend the country : it is, therefore, the military virtue par 
 excellence. 
 
 3. Fidelity to the flag. — This duty is implied in the two 
 preceding ones. The duty of courage, in fact, implies that 
 one should not flee before the enerav : it is the crime of deser-
 
 PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 169 
 
 tion ; that one should not pass over to the enemy : it is the 
 crime of defection or treason. This latter crime has become 
 very rare, and has even Avholly disappeared in modern France. 
 Formerly there was seen a Conde, the great Conde fighting 
 against the French at the head of Spanish troops ; and so 
 great a favdt scarcely injured his reputation ; in our days, a 
 simple suspicion, and that an unjust one, blackened the whole 
 life of a Marshal of France.* 
 
 4. Obedience and discipline. (See above. Duties toward 
 the State, preceding chapter. ) 
 
 102. III. Public functions— Administration— Deputation 
 — Magistracy — The Bar. — The public functions are the divers 
 acts which compose the government of a State. We even 
 include the elective functions (deputation, general councils, 
 town councils, etc.), because, wliilst they have their origin in 
 election, they are, nevertheless, functions, the purpose of 
 wliich is the common iceal, j^ublic interests. For the same 
 reason, though the bar is a free profession, it is so con- 
 nected with magistracy, it is so necessary a dependency of 
 the judicial power, that it is thereby itself a sort of public 
 power. 
 
 103. Functionaries, — AVe call functionaries, more particu- 
 larly, those who take part in the administration of the country 
 and the execution of its laws. This admitted, the principal 
 duties of functionaries are : 
 
 1. The Knowledge of the laws they are commissioned to exe- 
 cute. Power is only legitimate as far as it is guaranteed by com- 
 petency. Ignorance in public functions has for its results 
 injustice, since arbitrariness takes then the place of the law ; 
 administrative disorder, since the law has precisely for its 
 object to establish rules and maintain traditions ; negligence, 
 since igoiorant of the principles by which affiiirs ought to be 
 settled, conclusions are kept off as much as possil)le. But one 
 must not defer obtaining aiiniinistrativc information till called 
 
 * Marshal >Iarmont was accused of treason for having accepted the capitulation 
 of Essonne, which was perhaps imposed upon him hy necessity. 
 
 8
 
 170 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 to take a share in the administration. A general information 
 should he acquired beforehand ; for, once engaged in adminis- 
 trative affairs, there is then no longer time to acquire it. 
 
 To go to luork is, therefore, the first duty of those who 
 would be prepared for pubHc functions ; and this duty of work 
 continues with the functions ; for after general information 
 has been obtained, comes the special and technical informa- 
 tion, where there is always something new to learn. 
 
 2. The second duty of functionaries of any degree, is exac- 
 titude and assiduity. The most brilliant qualities, and the 
 largest and amplest mind for public affairs, will render but 
 inefficient service — at any rate, a service very inferior to what 
 could be expected of them, if these quaHties are counterbal- 
 anced and paralyzed by negligence, laziness, disorder, inexact- 
 ness. One must not forget that all negligence in public 
 affairs is a denial of justice to some one. An administrative 
 decision, whatever it be, has always for its result to satisfy 
 the just, or to deny the unjust, claims of some one. To retard 
 a case through negligence, may therefore deprive some one of 
 what he has a right to. There are, of course, necessary delays 
 wliich arise from the complication of aiiairs, and order itself 
 requires that everything come in time ; but delays occasioned 
 by our own fault are a wrong toward others. 
 
 3. Integrity and discretion are also among the most impor- 
 tant duties of functionaries. The first bears especially upon 
 what concerns finances ; but there are everywhere more or 
 less opportunities to fail in probity. For example, there is 
 nothincf more shameful than to sell one's influence ; this is 
 what is called extortion. An administrator given to extortion 
 is the shame and ruin of the State. As to discretion, it is 
 again a duty which depends on tlie nature of things. It is 
 especially obligatory when persons are in question, and still 
 more so in certain careers — as, for example, in diplomacy. 
 
 4. Justice.— ^\\<i strict duty of every administrator or func- 
 tionary, is to have no other rule tlian the law ; to avoid 
 arbitrariness and/«i'o/', to have no regard to persons. This
 
 PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 171 
 
 duty, it must be said, whilst it is the most necessary, is also 
 the most difficult to exercise, and one ■which requires most 
 courage and wilL Public opinion, unfortunately, encourages 
 in this respect, the weaknesses of officials ; it is convinced, 
 and spreads everywhere this conviction, that all is due to 
 favoritism, that it is not the most deserving that succeed, but 
 the best recommended. Everybody complains of it, and every- 
 body helps toward it. There is unquestionably much exag- 
 geration in these complaints. Favor is not everything in this 
 Avorld. It is too much the interest of administrators that they 
 should have industrious and intelligent assistants, and that they 
 should employ every means to choose them well ; and in public 
 affairs, the interests of the common weal always predominate 
 in the end. It is, nevertheless, an evil that so unfavorable a 
 prejudice should exist; and it is absolutely a duty with func- 
 tionaries to uproot it, in showing it to be false. 
 
 104. Elective functions — Deputation — Elective councils. 
 — There is a whole class of functionaries, if it be permitted to 
 say so, who owe their origin to election, and who are the man- 
 dataries of the people, either in municipal councils, or in gen- 
 eral councils, or in the gTeat elective bodies of the State, the 
 Senate and House of Representatives. (See Cicil instruction.) 
 The principle of the sovereignty of the people requires that 
 for all its interests, communal, departmental or national, the 
 country have a deliberative voice by means of its representa- 
 tives. The duties of these mandataries are generally the same 
 in anv degree of rank. 
 
 1. Fi(lelit)j to the mandate. — The representative is the in- 
 terpreter of certain opinions, of certain tendencies, and al- 
 though the majority which have elected him comprise very 
 diverse elements, there exists an average of opinions, and it is 
 this average which the deputy represents, or should represent. 
 He would, therefore, fail in his duty if, once elected, he passed 
 over to his opponents, or, if Avishing to do so, he did not ten- 
 der his resignation. However, this fidelity to the mandate 
 should not be carried so far as to accept what is called the im-
 
 172 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 perative mandate, which is the negation of all liberty in the 
 representative, and makes of him a simple voting machine. 
 The representative is a representative precisely because he is 
 empowered, on his own responsibility, to find the best means 
 to carry out the wishes of his constituents. 
 
 2. Independence. — The deputy, senator, municipal, or de- 
 partmental officer should be independent both in regard to 
 the authorities and in regard to the electors. From the au- 
 thorities he should receive no favors ; he should not sell his 
 vote in any interest whatsoever ; from the electors he has to 
 receive advice only, but no orders. Outside their office as 
 electors, the electors are nothing but simple individuals. As 
 such they may try to influence representatives, but they have 
 otherwise no other title before the representatives of the elect- 
 oral corps. The representative should, above all, avoid mak- 
 ing himself the servant of the electors, for the satisfaction of 
 their private interests and passions. It is often thought that 
 independence only consists in resisting courts and princes ; 
 there is no less independence, and sometimes even is there 
 more merit and courage required to resist the tyranny of 
 the masses, and especially that of popular leaders. The 
 deputy should, we have said, be faithful to his trust — that 
 is to say, to the general lino of politics adopted by the 
 political party to which he belongs ; but within these general 
 limits it is for him to assume tlio responsibility, for it is 
 for this very reason that he is elected a representative. 
 Let us, moreover, add. that fidelity to opinions should not 
 degenerate into party spirit, and that there is an interest 
 Avhich should supersede all others, namely, the interest of the 
 country. 
 
 3. The spirit of conciliation and the spirit of discipline. — 
 Political liberty, more than any other political principle, re- 
 quires the spirit of concession. If each, indeed, fortifies him- 
 self in his own opinions, without ever making a concession, 
 all having the right to do the same, it is evident that no com- 
 mon conclusion can be arrived at. The consequence of the
 
 PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 173 
 
 liberum veto*' pilshed to excess, is paralysis of power or 
 anarchy. Nothing is done ; and in politics, when nothing is 
 done, all becomes disorganized, dissolved. It is, therefore, 
 necessary that Avhilst preserving their independence, the rep- 
 resentatives sent forth by the electors should endeavor to ren- 
 der government possible ; they should not overstep the limits 
 of their trust by confoimding legislative power with executive 
 power ; they should try to harmonize with the other bodies of 
 the State — in short, they ought each to sacrifice the necessary 
 amount of their individual opinion to bring about a common 
 opinion. In a free government it is no more a duty to belong 
 to the majoritij than to the oj^position, since the opposition 
 may, in its turn, become majority ; but whether belonging to 
 the one or to the other, the representative should subordinate his 
 particular views to the common interest ; otherwise the parties 
 scatter, which, in tlie long run, can only be profitable to des- 
 potism. 
 
 105. Judicial power. — The magistracy and the bar. — 
 The judicial power is exercised by magistrates called jVr/^es .• 
 it is they who decide about quarrels between individuals : 
 this is what is called civil justice ; they also decide about the 
 punishments inflicted on criminals who have made attempts 
 upon a life or property ; and this is penal justice. The 
 duties of the magistrate are easily deduced from these obliga- 
 tions. 
 
 1. Impartiality and neutralitij. — The judge must neces- 
 sarily remain neutral among all parties ; he should have no 
 regard to persons, should render equal justice to the rich and 
 to the poor, to the high and to the low. Ecpialitij before the 
 law, which is one of the principles of our modern institutions, 
 should not only be a principle in the abstract ; it should also 
 be a practical principle, and be brought before the eyes of the 
 judges as one among the first of their obligations. 
 
 ♦The liherum veto in Poland was tlie right of each representative to oppose Iho 
 veto of the laws which were voted unanimously.
 
 174 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 2. Integritii and disinterestedness. — Xo le?s strict a duty for 
 the judges, and which, it is scarcely necessary to point out, is 
 integrity. The magistrate should be free from all suspicion 
 of venality. Under the old regime, as may he seen in 
 Eacine's comedy of Tlie Pleaders, the judges were not 
 always free from such suspicion. Of course, it is hiit a 
 comedy ; but such a comedy could no longer be written now- 
 adays ; it would no longer be understood ; our morals are too 
 much improved for that. The obligation should, neverthe- 
 less, be pointed out. 
 
 3. Impartiality and integrity concern above all civil justice. 
 The duty which more especially concerns criminal justice, is 
 equity ; namely, a moderate justice, intermediary between a 
 dangerous lenity and an excessive severit}'. In truth, in most 
 cases, at least in the gTaver cases, the judge has scarcely any- 
 thing more to do than to apply the law. It is for the jury, a 
 sort of free and irresponsible magistracy, to decide upon the 
 culpability or innocence of the prisoners. It is for the jury 
 to tind a just medium between harshness and lenity. But the 
 juryman who, above all, judges as a man, and often recoils 
 from responsibility, should fear the excess of lenity : the judge, 
 on the contrary, accustomed to repression, and above all pre- 
 occupied with the interests of society, should rather defend 
 himself against excess of rigor and severitj'. 
 
 4. Knowledge. — "NMiat is for most men but a luxury, be- 
 comes in such or such a ^ profession a strict duty. The 
 hnowledge of the laics, for example, is, for the magisti'ate, as 
 tlie knowledge of the human body for the physician, a strict 
 ribligation. He who wishes to enter the magistracy, shonld 
 tlierefcjre carry the study of the law as far as his youth permits 
 it ; but he should not stop his studies the moment he has 
 entered upon his career. He has always something to learn ; 
 he should keep himself informed of the progress jurisprudence 
 is making. It is useless to say that, independently of this 
 general Avork, the special and thorough study of each case 
 brought before him is for the judge a duty still more strict.
 
 PROFESSIOXAL DUTIES. 175 
 
 Alongside of * the magistrac}', and co-operating with it, is 
 placed the bar, which is charged with the defense of private 
 interests from a civil or criminal point of view. 
 
 From a civil point of view, the trial is between two citizens, 
 each claiming his right in the case ; they are what, is called 
 pleaders, and the trial itself is called a laiv-suH. The pleaders, 
 not knowing the laws, need an intermediary to explain and 
 defend their cause, bring it clearly to the comprehension of the 
 magistrates and enforce its reasons. This is the part of the 
 lawyers. 
 
 From a criminal point of view, the trial is not between two 
 individuals ; but between society and the criminal. Society, 
 to defend itself, employs what is called a pibblic prosecutor ; 
 the criminal needs a counsel. The part of a counsel belongs 
 again to the lawyers. 
 
 The duties of lawyers are varied according as the cases are 
 civil or criminal cases. 
 
 In civil law-suits, the absolute duty is the following : not 
 to take up had cases. Only it is necessary to understand well 
 this principle. It is generally believed that a bad case is the 
 losing one, and a good case the winning one. Thus would 
 there in every law-suit be a lawyer who failed in liis duty : the 
 one, namely, who lost the case. This is a false idea, which very 
 unjustly throws in many minds discredit upon the profession 
 of the law. 
 
 Certainly there are cases where the law is so clear, juris- 
 prudence so established, the morality so evident and imperious, 
 that a suit having the three against itself, may be called a 
 bad case ; and the lawyer who can allow his client to believe 
 the suit defensible, and who employs his skill and eloquence 
 in defending it, fails in his professional duty. But this is not 
 generally the case. In most cases, it is very difficult to tell 
 beforehand who is right, who wrong, and precisely because it 
 is difficult, are there judges whose proper function it is to de- 
 cide. Now, in order that the judge may decide, he must bo 
 acquainted with all the details of the case ; all possible reasons
 
 17C ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 from both sides must be laid before him. Everybody knows 
 that one can never of one's own account lind in favor of a 
 sohition or conclusion, all the reasons which the interested 
 party can ; now, it is just that these reasons be set forth : 
 this is the business of the lawyers. One must not forget that 
 in every law-suit there is a pro and a con. It is for this very 
 reason there is a suit. The lawyers are specially here to plead 
 for the pro and con, each from his own standpoint. One 
 could very well understand, for example, that the court should 
 have at its disposal functionaries commissioned to prepare 
 the cases and plead for the contending parties: one would 
 take up Peter's cause, the other, Paul's ; this is just the part 
 of the lawyers, with this difference, that the choice of the 
 lawyer is left to the client, because it is but just that a deputy 
 be chosen by him he is supposed to represent. 
 
 In criminal cases there are equally very delicate questions. 
 How can a lawyer defend as innocent one who is guilty? 
 Were it not an actual lie ? And yet society does not allow 
 that any accused, whoever he be, be left without counsel ; and 
 when none present themselves, it provides one, charging him 
 to save the life of the accused if he can. It is the interest of 
 society that no innocent person be condemned, and that even 
 the guilty should not be punished beyond what he deserves ; 
 in short, it takes care that all the reasons that can be brought 
 forth to attenuate the gravity of an offense be well weighed, 
 and even set forth in a manner to arouse pity and sympathy. 
 Such is the business of the lawyers. 
 
 It is evident that these considerations, which show the 
 lawyer's profession to be one so legitimate and exalted, should 
 not be improperly understood. These general rides must be 
 interpreted with delicacy of feeling and conscience. 
 
 106. IV. Science — Teaching — Medicine — The letters 
 and arts. — Beside the social powers which make, execute and 
 apx>lij the laws, there is science, which instructs men, en- 
 lightens them, directs their work, and which even, setting 
 utility aside, is yet in itself an object of disinterested research.
 
 PROFESSIOXAL DUTIES. 177 
 
 Side by side with the sciences are the letters and arts, wliich 
 pursue and express the beautiful, as science pursues the true. 
 Finally, to science and art are added morality and religion, 
 whose object is the good. The moralists, it is true, do not 
 constitute a particular profession in society, or at least their 
 part is blended with teaching in general ; religion has its in- 
 terpreters, who find in their dogmas and traditions the rules 
 of their duties. It is not the business of lay morality to teach 
 these. Let us, therefore, content ourselves with a few prin- 
 ciples concerning the sciences and letters. 
 
 107. Science — Duties of Scientists.— Science may be 
 cultivated in two ditierent ways and from two different stand- 
 points : 1, for itself ; 2, for its social advantages — for the ser- 
 vices it renders to men. There is but a small number of men 
 who have a natural taste for pure science, and the leisure to 
 give themselves up to the love of it ; but those who choose 
 such a life contract thereby certain duties. 
 
 The first of all is the love of truth. The only object for the 
 scientist to pursue is truth. He must, therefore, lay aside all 
 interests find passions antagonistic to truth ; and, above all, 
 personal interest which inclines one to prefer one theme to 
 another, because of the advantages it may bring ; this is, how- 
 ever, so gross a motive, that it would not be supposed to exist 
 with a true scholar ; yet are there other causes of error no less 
 dangerous — for example, the interest of a cause — of a convic- 
 tion which is dear to us ; the interest of our self-love, Avhich 
 makes us persist in error known to be such ; the spirit of sys- 
 tem, by which one shows his peculiar forte, etc. All these 
 passions should give way before the pure love of truth. 
 
 108. The communication of science — Teaching. — The 
 principal duty of those who are possessed of science is to com- 
 nnmicate it to other men. Certainly, all men are not called 
 to be scholars ; but all should in some degree have their intelli- 
 gence cultivated by instruction. Hence the duty of teaching im- 
 posed upon scholai's ; but this duty brings with it many others. 
 
 1. The masters who teach others should themselves first be
 
 178 ELEMENTS -OF MORALS. 
 
 educated. Hence the duty of intellectual work, not nisrely to 
 acquire knowledge, without Avhicli one cannot be a teacher, 
 but to preserve and increase it. The teacher should, there- 
 fore, set an example to his pupil of assiduous and continuous 
 intellectual work. 
 
 2. The teacher should love his pupils — children, if he is 
 called upon to teach children ; young men, if he is to address 
 young men. The teacher should not only think of the science 
 he teaches, but of the fruits his pupils are to reap from it ; 
 one can only be interested in what he loves. A teacher in- 
 different toward the young, will never make the necessary 
 effort to lead and educate them. 
 
 3. The teacher, in teaching, should unite in a just measure 
 disdijline and liherty. Instruction naturally presupposes one 
 that knows and one that does not know ; and it is necessary 
 that the one should direct the other ; hence the necessity of 
 discipline. But the purpose of instruction is to teach to do 
 Avitliuut the master — to be one's own master in thoiight and 
 conduct ; hence the necessity of liberty. Tliis liberty should 
 grow along with the instruction, and, of course, proportionately 
 to age ; but, at any age, one should take advantage of the 
 faculties of a child, and make it as much as possible find out 
 by itself what is within its reach. 
 
 4. The teacher should not separate instruction from educa- 
 tion. He should not only communicate knowledge — he should 
 above all form men, characters, wills. Instruction is, besides, 
 ^ready in itself an education. Can one instruct without ac- 
 customing young minds to work, to obedience, to correct 
 habits of thought ; witbout putting into their hands good 
 books ; without giving them good examples 1 It is most true 
 that one does not form men with pure and abstract science 
 alone, — it is necessary to add the letters, history, morality, 
 religion. The teacher, besides, should study the character of 
 his pupils, should, through work and moral and physical exer- 
 cises, put down presumption, correct unmanliness, combat 
 selfishness, anticipate or restrain the passions.
 
 PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 179 
 
 109. Applied science — Industry— Medicine. — Science 
 may tiiid its application in two ways, either to things, or to men. 
 Applied to things, it is called industry ; applied to men, medi- 
 cine. There are no special duties concerning industrial pursuits. 
 Engineers, private or in the service of the State, employed in 
 civil or military works, have no other duties then the general 
 duties of functionaries, military-men, employees, etc. It is 
 not the same Avith medicine. There are here obligations of a 
 special and graver nature. 
 
 110. Duties of the physician— His knowledge.— Knowl- 
 edge is an obligation in every profession ; everywhere it is in- 
 dispensable to know the thing one is engaged in ; but, in 
 medicine, ignorance is of a much more serious character : for 
 it may end in manslaughter'. Ho^v can any one attend the 
 sick if he knows nothing of the human body ; if he is ignorant 
 of the symptoms of a disease ? He has, it is true, the resource 
 of doing nothing ; but might not this also be manslaughter? 
 Does he not then take the place of him who knows and might 
 save the patient 1 
 
 2. Secrecy. — The physician is above all held to secrecy. 
 He must not make known the diseases which have been 
 revealed to him. This is what is called medical secrecy. This 
 obligation may in certain cases give rise to the most serious 
 troubles of conscience ; but, as a rinciple, it may be said that 
 secrecy is as absolute a duty for the physician as it is for the 
 father-confessor. 
 
 3. Courage. — The physician, we have seen, has his point 
 d'honneur, like the military-man ; he often runs equally great 
 dangers : he must, if necessary, devote himself and risk his 
 life. He requires also a go-eat moral courage, when he is 
 brought before a serious illness where, at the moment of a 
 dangerous operation, when his hand must be as firm as his 
 mind, he needs all the self-possession he can command. 
 
 4. Duties toward the sick : Kindness and seveiHtij. — The 
 physician should be firm in the treatment of his patients ; he 
 should insist that his prescriptions be unconditionally fol-
 
 180 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 lowed, for his responsibility rests on this : he should rather 
 give up the case than consent to a dangerous disobedience. 
 At the same time he must encourage the patient, raise his 
 strength by inspiring him with confidence, which is half the 
 cure. He must also, without deceiving it, uphold the courage 
 of the family. In some cases it may be necessary to tell the 
 patient the danger he is in. 
 
 III. Writers and artists. — The morality of writers and 
 artists is, as in all the preceding cases, determined by the object 
 these persons devote their lives to. The object of the writer 
 and artist is the realization of the heautiful, either in speech 
 or writing (literature), or through color and lines (painting, 
 sculpture), or through sound (music). In aU these arts, the 
 leading thought should be the interests of the art one is culti- 
 vating. One should as much as possible beware turning it 
 into a trade — that is to say, into a mercenary art, having gain 
 only for its object. Certainly one must live, and it is rare 
 that writers, poets, artists, have at their command resources 
 enough to do without the pecuniary fruit of pen or hand ; but 
 the attainment of the beautif id should be preferred to that of 
 the useful : study, the imitation of the great masters, contempt 
 for fashion, striving after all that is delicate, noble, pure, the 
 avoiding of all that is low, frivolous, factitious : such are the 
 principles which should regulate the morality of artist and 
 writer. It is useless to add that they should seek their suc- 
 cess in what elevates the soul, and not in what corrupts and 
 degrades it. Coarseness, brutality, license, should be absolutely 
 condemned. Better to devote one's self to a useful and humble 
 profession than employ one's talent in depraving morals, and 
 degrading soids. 
 
 The duties of the poet have been eloquently expressed by 
 Boileau in his AH poetique. 
 
 1. It is a duty to devote one's self to poetry and the fine arts 
 only when one has a decided vocation for them. 
 
 •' Be rather a mason, if that be your talent."
 
 PROFESSIONAL DUTIES. 181 
 
 2. The poet should listen to good advice. 
 
 " Make choice of a solid and wholesome censor." 
 
 3. The poet and artist should, in their verses and works, be 
 the interpreters of virtue. 
 
 ' ' Let your soul and your morals, depicted in your works, 
 Never present of 3'ou but noble images." 
 
 Love, then, virtue ; nourisli your soul therewith. 
 
 " The verse alwaj's savors of the baseness of the heart." 
 
 4. They must avoid jealdusies and rivalries. 
 
 "Flee, above all, flee base jealousies. " 
 
 5. They must prefer glory to gain. 
 
 " Work for glory and let no sordid gain 
 Ever be the object of a noble writer."
 
 CHAPTER JX 
 
 INTEKN^ATIONAL DUTIES — INTERNATIONAL LAW. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 General principles of Internafional law. — They are the principles of 
 the natural law applied to the relations nations sustain to each other. 
 
 Of war. — War founded on the right of self-defense. The reasons for a 
 just war. 
 
 Defensive and offensive wars. — This division does not necessarily 
 correspond to that of just or unjust wars. — Precautions and prepara- 
 tions. — Duties in times of war : to reconcile as much as possible the 
 rights of humanity Avith those of patriotism. — Rights of war concern- 
 ing the enemy's property. — Coni|Uest. — Neutrality. 
 
 International treaties: their character; their forms; their different 
 species. — Essential conditions for public treaties : they are the same 
 as for private contracts. 
 
 Observance of treaties. — Obligatory character of treaties : testimony 
 of Cardinal Richelieu. 
 
 The human race being divided into divers particular socie- 
 ties called States or nations, those different bodies stand to- 
 ward each other as individuals ; they are subject to the 
 primitive laws existing naturally among all men, and they are 
 obliged to practice certain duties toAvard each other. 
 
 112. International law. — General principles. — It is this 
 body of laws which is called international law, and which is 
 nothing more than the natural law itself, or the moral law ap- 
 plied to nations. 
 
 It is by virtue of this natural law that the nations ought to
 
 DUTIES OF NATIONS AMONG THEMSELVES, 183 
 
 consider eacli other equals, and independent of each other ; 
 that they should not injure each other, and should make each 
 other, on the contrary, reparation for injury done. Hence the 
 right of self-defense in case of attack, of repelling and restrain- 
 ing by force whatever violence may threaten or oppress them. 
 Wlien nations practice toward each other the prescriptions 
 of the natural law, they are in a state of ^?eace with each 
 other ; when they are obliged to resort to force to repel in- 
 justice, they are in a state of loar. 
 
 113. War. — It is evident that in all nations the ruler, who- 
 ever he be (the people, nobles, or king), ought to have the 
 right to carry on war ; for it is nothing else than the right of 
 self-defense, and this right is the same for the nation as for 
 individuals. War is, then, legitimate in principle; but in 
 fact, it may be just or unjust according as it takes place for 
 good or bad reasons, and sometimes for no reason at all. 
 
 114. Reasons of a just war. —It is not easy to say in ad- 
 vance and in a general manner, -what may be the reasons of a 
 just war ; for they vary according to circumstances ; they may 
 be all reduced to one fundamental principle, namely, the de- 
 fense of the national territory when threatened. Moreover, a 
 war may be undertaken not only in self-defense, but to protect 
 allies when they are unjustly attacked. As for the fijllowing 
 reasons, more or less frequently alleged as pretexts for war, 
 good morality cannot justify them : 
 
 1. Thus, the fear of the powerful neighbor, giving, for ex- 
 ample, as a pretext that he erects new citadels on his lands, 
 organizes an army, increases his troops, etc., is not a sufficiently 
 just reason for war. 
 
 2. Utility does not give the same right as necessity : for 
 example, arms could not legitimately be resorted to in order to 
 gain possession of a place which might suit our convenience, 
 ond be proper to protect our frontiers. 
 
 .3. The same may be said of the desire to change dwelling- 
 place, to leave marshes, deserts, in order to settle in a more 
 fertile country.
 
 184 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 4. It is no less unjust to make attempt upon the rights and 
 liberties of a people under pretext that they are less intelligent 
 or less civilized than we are. The cause of civilization is, 
 then, not a cause for just war so long as we have not ourselves 
 been attacked by barbarians. 
 
 5. Nor is it just to conquer a people under pretext that our 
 conquest may be to its advantage, bring it riches, or liberty, 
 or morality, etc. 
 
 115. Defensive and offensive wars. — We distinguish two 
 Iciuds of war, defensive and offensive. The first consists in de- 
 fending the national territory, the second, in attacking the 
 enemy's territory. 
 
 It would be a mistake to confound defensive and offensive 
 wars with just and unjust Avars, and to believe that only the 
 defensive wars are just, and all offensive ones unjust. This 
 distinction has nothing to do with the causes of the war, but 
 concerns the manner of engaging in it ; sometimes one's in- 
 terest lies in allowing one's self to be attacked, sometimes in 
 attacking. He who has done us injustice may very well wait 
 for us to come to him, instead of carrying arms to us ; this 
 does not prove him to be in the right. He who, on the con- 
 trary, takes up arms to obtain reparation for an injustice or an 
 insult, does not prove thereby that he is in the wrong. 
 
 116. Precautions and preparations. — Even in the case of 
 just causes, there are certain precautions and preparations 
 necessary in order that the war be called a just one. 
 
 1. The subject must be of great consequence. It is criminal, 
 for a frivolous cause, to expose men to all the evils that accom- 
 pany a war, even the most fortunate. 
 
 2. There must be some probability of success : for it would 
 be criminally rash to expose one's self foolhardily to certain 
 destruction and, to avoid a lesser evil, throw one's self into a 
 greater. 
 
 3. If we had no gentler means at our disposal. 
 
 There are two ways of settling a dispute between nations, 
 without recourse to arms: 1, an amicable conference between
 
 DUTIES OF NATIONS AMONG THEMSELVES. 185 
 
 the parties ; 2, the intervention of a disinterested third party, 
 or arbitrament. A third means, much rarer and now aban- 
 doned, is that of casting lots. When all the means of settling 
 the difficulty amicably have been exhausted, there remains, be- 
 fore taking up arms, a final obligation, namely, to declare to the 
 enemy the resolution of employing the last means : this is 
 what is called a declaration of war. 
 
 117. Duties in times of war. — War having become a sad 
 and unavoidable necessity between nations, and the use of 
 force determined on, it behooves as much as possible to restrict 
 it in its effects, and to reconcile the rights of humanity with 
 those of justice. Hence, certain rules established by juris- 
 consults who have treated these matters, and notably Grotius, 
 the founder of international law. 
 
 The fundamental principle of the right of war is the 
 following : All that has a morally necessary connection with 
 the purpose of the war is allowed, but nothing more. In 
 fact, it would be wholly useless to have the right to do a 
 thing, if, to accomplish it, one could not employ the neces- 
 sary means thereto ; but, on the other hand, it would not be 
 just if, under the pretext of only defending one's rights, one 
 should believe that everything is permitted, and should resort 
 to the last extremities. 
 
 From this general principle are deduced the following con- 
 sequences, which are only its applications : 
 
 1. It is certain that it is lawful to kill the enemy's soldiers, 
 and, in fact, the purpose of the Avar being to constrain the 
 enemy to recognize the justice of our cause, it would be vain 
 to take up arms if one could not use them. It is then one of 
 the cases where manslaughter may be considered innocent, 
 and justified by the right of personal self-defense. (See above, 
 Ch. iii., p. 50.) 
 
 2. However, the riglit of death upon the enemy has its 
 limits. As a principle, it only extends to those who carry 
 arms, and not to private individuals who do not defend them- 
 selves, arms in hand. Such can only accidentally become the
 
 186 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 victims of the war : for instance, it is impossible in a battle to 
 protect the inhabitants of a disputed village against the balls 
 of either party ; but we should not kno^\•ingly strike dead 
 those who do not defend themselves. 
 
 3. Strangers should be allowed to quit a country exposed 
 to war ; and if obhged to stay, they should be no further ex- 
 posed than to share its inevitable perils with the other citizens. 
 
 4. Prisoners of war should be neither killed nor reduced to 
 slaverj', but simply prevented from doing mischief. 
 
 As to the means employed to deprive an enemy of his life, 
 humanity, with just reason, interdicts the use of certain 
 cowardly and perfidious means ; as, for instance, poisoned 
 bullets, or too cruel means of destruction, or lastly, assassina- 
 tion. 
 
 Thus, it Avould be odious to send traitors secretly charged 
 to kill the hostile general. There is, besides, no example of 
 such attempts in modern wars, and the human conscience 
 would unanimously reprove them. 
 
 Thus much concerning the rights war gives over the lives 
 of enemiea Let us consider now the duties regaixling prop- 
 erty. 
 
 1. "War gives the right to destroy the property of the 
 enemy ; it is what is called the right of ravage. But ravage 
 should not be pursued for its own sake, but only to weaken 
 the enemy. Thus v/e should as much as possible spare public 
 monuments, works of art, etc. 
 
 2. It is a right of war to acquire and appropriate things be- 
 longing to the enemy until agreement as to the moneys due, 
 including the expenses of the Avar. 
 
 3. It is by virtue of these principles that, in case of naval 
 encounters, it is justifiable to take possession of the enemy's 
 vessels, and not only of men-of-war, but of merchant-men and 
 the goods they carry. 
 
 4. This right upon the enemy's property is only the sover- 
 eign's ; he alone has a right to appropriate, in the name of 
 the State, the property of the invaded territory, by way of
 
 DUTIES OF NATIONS AMONG THEMSELVES. 187 
 
 restitution or guaranty ; but war does not confer upon single 
 individuals the right of taking possession of people's property 
 and appropriating it : this is simply pillage. 
 
 118. Conquest. — We call rigJd of conqued the right which 
 belongs to a State to bring under its sovereignty the whole or 
 part of another State, by virtue of the right of war. Con- 
 quest, it will be seen, is but the right of the strongest. It is 
 contrary to the principle of modern political societies, which 
 requires that tlie State rest on the free contract of citizens, and 
 that a people should only be subject to laws consentexl to. 
 
 It is not easy to have an official authentication of this con- 
 sent ; but it is certain that there are annexations that are 
 voluntary, and others that are not. The latter, it must be 
 hoped, will become less and less frequent as the idea of justice 
 among nations develops. 
 
 119. Neutrality. — We call neidralitytlie situation of States 
 which, in a case of war, side with neither the one nor the 
 other of the belligerents, but remain at peace with the two 
 parties. They are, therefore, obliged to practice toward them 
 the laws of natural right impartially : if, for example, they 
 render to one a service of humanity, they must not refuse the 
 Same service to the other. They must not furnish means of 
 hostility to either the one or the other, or they must furnish 
 them to Ijoth. They must lend their good offices for a settle- 
 ment if they have any chance of being listened to. 
 
 These rules are very simple ; but, practically, the situation 
 of neutrals is a very delicate one, and gives rise to numerous 
 difficulties, for the solution of which, resort must be had to 
 the s^iecial treatises on the lawof nations. 
 
 120. International treaties: their characters: their 
 forms. — We have seen that nations have among each other, 
 the same as individuals, obligations and rights which they 
 derive from the natural law. But there are other obligations 
 and other rights wliich are no longer based on nature, but on 
 special contracts or tisages. The international law which bears 
 on usages is called customary right ; that which comes from
 
 188 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 compacts, is called conventional right. The compacts between 
 States are called treaties. 
 
 Treaties are equal or unequal, according as they promise 
 equal or unequal things ; j)ersonal or real, according as they 
 relate only to certain persons, and during their lives, or as 
 they are independent of persons and last as long as the State 
 itself ; ^mre and simple or conditional ; in the first case the 
 stipulations are absolute ; in the second they depend on cer- 
 tain conditions. 
 
 There are different species of treaties according to their 
 different objects : treaties of alliance ; treaties of boundaries ; 
 treaties of cession ; treaties of navigation and commerce ; trea- 
 ties of neutrality ; treaties of peace. 
 
 121. Essential conditions of public treaties. — As a prin- 
 ciple, the rules which govern international compacts are (with 
 the exception of a few difterences) the same as those which 
 govern private compacts. There are three fundamental con- 
 ditions : 1, the consent; 2, a licit cause; 3, the capacity of 
 the contracting parties. (See above, 92.) 
 
 The consent should be : 1, declared; 2, free ; 3, mutual. 
 
 The licit causes are those which are physically possible or 
 morally legitimate ; the illicit causes are those which are con- 
 trary to morality, as, for example, would be the establishment 
 of slavery. 
 
 The capacity of making a compact belongs to the sovereign 
 of the State alone ; but it is necessary that this "sovereign be 
 really invested with the power. A sovereign stripped of his 
 sovereignty has no power to make compacts, although he might 
 have all the most legitimate rights ; and, on the other hand, a 
 usurping power can legitimately make compacts. The reason 
 of this is, that foreign nations are wot capable to decide what 
 with another people constitutes the legitimacy or non-legit- 
 imacy of power : there is for them, therefore, only the power 
 d.e facto. Yet this is but the general rule. Tliere may be 
 cases where a foreign government may refuse to recognize a 
 usurper's power.
 
 DUTIES OF NATIONS AMONG THEMSELVES. 189 
 
 122. Observance of treaties. — The obligation to observe 
 treaties is based ou the natural law. Whether compacts take 
 l)lace between States or individuals, it matters little. The 
 States, in respect to each other, are like private individuals. 
 Certain publicists, particularly Machiavelli, have maintained 
 that the obligation to observe treaties only lasts as long as 
 these accord with our interests. As much as to say that one 
 should not make any compacts. Besides, Machiavelli's opinion 
 is in such disrepute that it is almost useless to discuss it. We 
 will content ourselves with setting against it the following 
 beautiful thought of a great politician : 
 
 Kings should be very careful in making treaties, liut when once 
 made, tliey must observe them religiously. I know very well that 
 many politicians teach the contrary ; but without stopping to consider 
 what Christianity has to say regarding these maxims, I maintain that, 
 since the loss of honor is greater than that of life, a great prince slioukl 
 rather risk his person, and even the loss of his State, than break liis 
 word, which he cannot break without losing his reputation, con- 
 sequently, his greatest strength as a sovereign. (Cardinal de Ricliclieu, 
 TestameiU imlitique, 2* partie, ch. vi. )
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 The family. — Origin and liistory of the family. — The family originat- 
 ing in the necessity of the perpetuation of the species, has gradually 
 gained in morality until it has reached the present state, namely, 
 monogamy, or marriage between one man and one woman : a pro- 
 gress so far as the dignity of woman and the equality of the sexes are 
 concerned. 
 
 Duties of marriage. — The duties of marriage begin before marriage: 
 to be prudent in the choice of a partner ; to prefer the moral interests 
 to the material interests. 
 
 Mutual duties of the married couple : fidelity founded : 1, on a free 
 promise ; 2, on the very idea of marriage. 
 
 Duties peculiar to the husband : protection of the family, work, etc. 
 
 Celibacy and its duties. 
 
 Duties of parents toward children.— Of the rights of parents. — 
 Basis and limits of the paternal authority. — Instituted in the interest 
 01 the children, it is limited by that very interest. 
 
 Parents have not, therefore, 1, the right of life and death ; 2, the right 
 to strike and maltreat ; 3, the right to sell ; 4, the right to connipt. 
 
 Duties of parents. — General duty of affection without privileges or 
 preferences.— Duty of maintenance and education. — Decrease of par- 
 ental responsibility in proportion to the age of the children. — Three 
 periods in paternal authority. 
 
 Duties of children respecting their parents and respecting each 
 other. — Filial duty. — Fraternal duty. 
 
 Duties of masters towards their servants. 
 
 123. The family. — It is a law among all living beings to 
 perpetuate their species. This law is among animals subject 
 to no moral law. Yet are there certain species where between 
 the male and female a kind of society is established ; and with 
 nearly all animals the attachment of the mother to her young,
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 191 
 
 shows itself by most striking and touching proofs. But this 
 maternal interest does not usually last beyond the time neces- 
 sary to bring up the little ones and enable them to provide for 
 themselves. Beyond this time, the offspring separate and 
 disperse. They live their own Ufe ; the mother knows them 
 no longer. As to the father, he has scarcely ever known 
 them. Such are the domestic ties among animals : and, rude 
 as they may be, one cannot help already recognizing and 
 admiring in them the anticipated image of the family. 
 
 The family in the human species has the same origin and 
 the same end as in the animal species, namely, the perpetua- 
 tion of the species ; but in the former it is exalted and ennobled 
 by additional sentiments : it is consecrated and sanctioned by 
 laws of duty and right to which animals are absolutely in- 
 capable of rising. 
 
 If we consider the history of the human race, we see the 
 family rise progressively from a certain primitive state, which 
 is not very far from the animal promiscuity, to the condition 
 in which we see it to-day in most civilized countries. Among 
 savage nations, marriages have little stability and duration : 
 they are as easily broken as formed. Female dignity and 
 modesty are scarcely known among them : woman is more a 
 slave than a companion, and the freedom of morals has 
 scarcely any limits. Yet is there no society where marriages 
 are not subject to some sacred or civil formalities, which shows 
 that savages, ignorant as we may suppose them to be, have a 
 presentiment of duties which, under favorable circumstances, 
 tend to purify and elevate the relations of the sexes. Later, 
 in other societies, maiTiages take a more regular form and a 
 more fixed character ; yet, admitting polygamy, more or less, 
 as among the ancients. In short, many circumstances have 
 presided over the legal relations of the two sexes, before, 
 through the natural progress of morals and Christian influence, 
 monogamy became the almost miiversal law of the family in 
 civilized countries. 
 
 It has been seen, then, that as the moral sentiment became
 
 192 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 more refined, the family, as it exists to-day, became more 
 closely related to the State ; and it will always be safer, in 
 order to establish the legitimacy of such an institution and 
 secure for it due respect, to depend more on sentiment than on 
 reasoning. 
 
 Besides, the family is a natural result of the necessary rela- 
 tioJis which exist between mother, father, and child. 
 
 It is the birth of the children which is the end and raison 
 cVetre of the family. 
 
 This fact, let it be well noted, already determines between 
 mother and child a relation of some duration. The child is 
 altogether unable to live and develop alone. The mother 
 owes it its nourishment ; and nature, having herself prepared 
 f(U- the child in the breast of the mother tlie sources of its 
 subsistence truly indicated thereby that they should be l:)ound 
 to each other ]:)y a positive and inevitable tie. It is true tlie 
 same tie exists also among the families of the animals and 
 their young (at least with mammalia); and we have seen that 
 there exist ainong them some germs of family. But let us 
 not forget that it takes only a little time for the young of the 
 animal species to reach that degree of strength wliich enables 
 it to leave its mother without danger. With the human 
 species, on the contrary, it takes a considerable time. Before 
 the first or second year the child is unable to walk ; when it 
 walks, it is still unable to walk alone, to find its food, to 
 develop in any way. Imagine a child two, three, five years 
 old, abandoned to himself in a desert island : he would die of 
 hunger. Besides, instinct is much less strong in man than in 
 animalg, and much less certain ; when an adult, man follows 
 his own reason ; in childhood he needs the reason of others. 
 What shall I say of his moral education and intellectual de- 
 velopment % The child needs a teacher as well as a nurse. 
 We see that the relations between mother and child must 
 naturally be prolonged far beyond tliosc betM'een animals. 
 The first natural and necessary relations will finally create be- 
 tween these two beings habits of such a character that they
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 193 
 
 will never more separate, even when they can do without each 
 other. At least, this separation will not take place before 
 man is completely man ; and although son and daughter may 
 separate from the family to become in their turn heads of 
 families, there will always exist between parents and children 
 certain ties, certain relations, all the closer, as they each fol- 
 low the laws of nature. In short, children can never be seen, as 
 is the case in the animal species, becoming complete strangers 
 to their father and mother. 
 
 I have first considered the tie between the mother and the 
 child, because it is the most evident and the most necessary. 
 But this relation is not the only one. The child, we have 
 said, needs protection for a long time : does the mother's pro- 
 tection suffice ? To judge from the way woman is constituted, 
 one can see that she needs protection herself. Her weakness 
 and her sex expose her to attacks ; she is then but an insuffi- 
 cient protection to the feeble creature she is united to by so 
 many ties. Therefore must the family have a protector ; and 
 who should be the natural protector of the child, if not the 
 father 1 of the wife, if not the husband ? The necessity of 
 protection renders, then, man indispensable to the family. 
 We may add to this, the necessity of subsistence. Undoubt- 
 edly the mother gives the child its first nourishment; but 
 later on, the common means of subsistence must come from 
 work. Now, without denying that Avoman is called to work 
 the same as man, and whilst admitting that in the simple and 
 natural state she is very much stronger than in the civilized 
 state, it must, nevertheless, be admitted that woman, in gen- 
 eral, is less fitted for work than man ; that with more trouble, 
 she produces less, and that a large portion of her life is neces- 
 sarily taken up with her peculiar cares. Without the Avork of 
 the head of the family, the common subsistence Avould, there- 
 fore, be imperiled. 
 
 If we now consider the education of the children, it is be- 
 yond doubt that the maternal education is insufficient. The 
 mother represents in the family, love, solicitude, serviceableness.
 
 194 ELEMEJTTS OF MORALS. 
 
 Ill a solid education, authority shoidd be added to these. It 
 may be noticed that in children brought up by one of the 
 parents only, there is in general something incomplete. Those 
 who have had the father only, lack something in tenderness 
 and delicacy of feeling -which the graces of maternity insen- 
 sibly communicate to the child ; those who have had the 
 mother only, are lacking in discipline and solidity of 
 character : they are capricious and of a more passionate will- 
 fulness. Mature, then, appeals to the joint efforts of both 
 father and mother in the education of the child. Let us add 
 now that this close tie, Avhich on one side attaches the child to 
 the mother and on the other to the father, should also attach 
 parents to each other, far beyond the first and transitory tie 
 which first joined them. United in a common undertaking, 
 namely, to support and educate the being they have brought 
 into the world — it is impossible that they should not continue 
 to be more and more closely united. 
 
 124. Family duties. — This is the natural history of the 
 family. It was probably in a similar manner, with many 
 vicissitudes, that it gradually formed and then became trans- 
 formed. Let us now see how out of this association, founded 
 by instincts, interests, and circumstances, the principle of 
 duty makes a sacred and indissoluble institution. 
 
 There can be distinguished in the family four kinds of rela- 
 tions, whence spring four classes of duties : 
 
 1. The relations between the husband and wife. 
 
 2. The relations of parents to children. 
 
 3. The relations of children to parents. 
 
 4. The relations of children to each other. 
 
 Whence conjugal duty, paternal or maternal duty, fdial 
 duty, and fraternal duty. 
 
 To these four relations, there may be added a fifth : that of 
 the head of a family to his servants. 
 
 125. Duties of marriage. — The duties of marriage begin 
 before marriage : they begin with the mutual choice of the 
 man and the woman. For the woman, it usually happens, at
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 195 
 
 least in our society [in France], that the clioice is determined 
 by the parents. The responsibihty, then, falls upon them. 
 Kow, this choice should not be made lightly and foolishly. It 
 should be determined by a serious and noble conception of the 
 duties and end of marriage. 
 
 " Marriage," our Code admirably says, " is an association 
 between man and woman, to share the pleasures and bear in 
 common the trials of life." * 
 
 Marriage is, therefore, a compact entirely moral : it is not 
 only a union of bodies or fortunes, it is a union of souls. Life 
 in common and indissoluble, with all its possible accidents, is 
 too heavy a burden to be left to chance. A man should 
 think not only of his own happiness, but also of that of the 
 woman whom he associates with his destiny ; if he does not 
 consider himself strong enough to fulfill toward her all the 
 duties which such a connection imposes on him, he should 
 not uuite her to himself by indissoluble vows ; if he does 
 not think that he can love and respect her all through life, 
 let him spare himself and her a life-long misery. We may 
 see by this how important in conjugal union are a harmony 
 of character, a just and mutual esteem, and an en^htened 
 affection. To marry rashly and too hastily, and thus to risk 
 future happiness, is already failing in a first duty. One 
 should, therefore, not rely too implicitly upon indifferent or 
 interested go-betweens. 
 
 It is said, indeed, that there is no way of knowing with 
 certainty the character and sincerity of men. Many a one who 
 in society appears amiable and estimable, is perhaps, in private 
 life, selfish and tyrannical ; women, it is said, moreover, are 
 particularly skilled, even when young, in assuming qualities 
 which they do not possess, and in disguising their faults ; 
 that if one were constantly scrutinizing and distrusting, mar- 
 riage would be impossible ; for the most sagacious are deceived 
 
 * Montaigne thus expressed himself in regard to man-iage : " A good raarriage is a 
 sweet society for life, full of constancy, troubles, and an infinite number of useful 
 and substantial services and mutual obligations."
 
 19G ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 in them, etc., etc. All this, to a certain extent, is true; and. 
 there could be nothing done without some sort of confidence ; 
 but this confidence, when it is the result of precaution and 
 prudence, is miich less often deceived than satirists would 
 liave it. Besides, if there be room for deception, even after a 
 reasonably long intimacy, the chances are at least better than 
 they would be if the parties were to rush headlong into a 
 future absolutely unknown to them. 
 
 Another grave error is that of seeing in marriage nothing 
 but a union of fortunes and names. 
 
 It is bringing what in reality is the noblest and most 
 delicate of contracts, down to a simple commercial act. Cer- 
 tainly one should not propose to the inexperience of young 
 people the union of two poverties, as an ideal : it is well 
 known that poverty is much harder to bear when one has to 
 share it with a wife and children, than alone. But whilst in 
 certain classes of society marriage could scarcely be possible 
 otherwise (workingmen having no capital to back their mar- 
 riage contracts), the classes that have some competency should 
 not make property the first consideration ; character, mind, 
 and merit should by far outweigh, it. 
 
 We distinguish generally two kinds of marriages : the 
 reason-marriages {^mariages de reason) and the inclination 
 marriages ; and much has been said for and against both. 
 These are questions which will never be solved, because expe- 
 rience shows that they are mostly dependent on circumstances. 
 It may be said that, as a principle, the true marriage is the 
 marriage based on inclination enlightened by reason. "Wliat 
 experience and wisdom condemn, are the foolish inclinations 
 —those, for example, that take no account of age, education, 
 social surroundings, necessities of life. These sorts of pas- 
 sion scarcely ever stand the test of time and circumstances, 
 and arc generally followed by a painful reaction. " There is," 
 says La Bruyi^ire, " hardly any other reason for loving no longer, 
 than to have loved too much." But inclination is not always 
 "unreasonable ; and Avhen it can be reconciled with the counsels
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 197 
 
 of wisdom, which is no rare thing, it is better tlian cold 
 reason, and answers better to the purpose of marriage : it is a 
 surer guaranty of its dignity and happiness. 
 
 A wise moralist, Mr. Adolphe Gamier, makes a very reason- 
 able reply to those who pretend that inclination disappears 
 very fast in marriage: "We reply," he says, "that inclination 
 will at least have formed a true marriage whilst it lasted. It 
 will leave for all the rest of life a remembrance of the first 
 years, which shall have been purified, ennobled, sanctified by 
 this heart-affection. This remembrance will SAveeten more 
 than one bitter moment, will prevent more than one anguish. 
 Duty Avill be sustained by a remembrance of past happiness."* 
 
 The marriage once made, we have to consider, one after the 
 otlier, the duties of the husband and those of the wife. There 
 are some they have in common, and others which belong to 
 the particular part each plays in the household. 
 
 The duty which the husband and wife have in common, is 
 fidelity. This duty is based on the very nature of marriage, 
 as also upon a mutual promise. 
 
 Let us begin by this latter consideration. Marriage, such 
 as it is instituted in civilized or Christian countries, is monos.;- 
 amy, or marriage of one man with one woman (except in cases 
 of (.lecease). Sucli is the state one binds one's self to in enter- 
 ing the marriage relation : one accepts thereby the obligation 
 of an inviolable fidelity. If then a promise is sacred in respect 
 to material goods, how much more sacred is the promise 
 between hearts, and this mutual gift of soul to soul, which 
 constitutes the dignity of marriage ! Conjugal fidelity is, then, 
 a duty of honor, a veritable debt. 
 
 But fidelity is not only the obligatory result of a prom- 
 ise, of a given M-ord ; it is also the result of the very idea of 
 marriage, and marriage in its turn results from tlie nature of 
 tilings. 
 
 Marriage Avas instituted to save the dignity of Avoman. 
 Experience, in fact, teaches us that Avherever polygamy 
 
 * Ad. Gamier. Morale sociale I., ii., p. 104.
 
 198 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 exists, woman is not far from being man's slave. Man, divid- 
 ing his affections between several women, cannot love each 
 one with that refinement and constancy wliich render her 
 his equal. How could there exist between a master and 
 several slaves vying for liis looks and caprices, that intimacy, 
 that mutual sharing of good and evil wherein tlie moral 
 beauty of marriage consists 1 It is quite evident that equality 
 between man and woman cannot exist where the latter is 
 obliged to share "with others the common good of conjugal 
 affection. 
 
 Hence the institution of marriage which was established in 
 tlie interest of the woman, and which is the protection of the 
 weaker party. It evidently follows that, on her side, she is 
 lield to the same fidelity which she has a right to demand. 
 Conjugal infidelity, on whichever side it occurs, is then a dis- 
 guised polygamy, and, moreover, an irregular and capricious 
 polygamy, very inferior to the legal ; for this recognizes at 
 least certain rules, and establishes with precision the condition 
 of the several wives. But adultery destroys all regular and 
 fixed relations between the married couple ; it introduces into 
 marriage the open or clandestine usurpation of sworn rights ; 
 it tends to re-establish the primitive and savage state, where the 
 coming together of the sexes depended on chance and caprice. 
 
 Fidelity is for the married couple a common and reciprocal 
 duty. Each, besides, has pecidiar duties. We shall lay par- 
 ticular stress on those of the husband. The first of all, which 
 carries with it all others, is pruted ion. 
 
 " Man, being the head of the family, is its natural protector. 
 He holds his authority from the laws and from usage. More- 
 over, it results from the very nature of things : for between 
 two persons, even perfectly united, it is difficult, it is impos- 
 sible, to meet with a constant uniformity of views, sentiments, 
 and wishes. There must be, then, a determining voice ; one 
 of the two persons sharing in common domestic authority, 
 must have the privilege of superior authority. Xow, what 
 are the titles to this superior authority 1 These titles are
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 199 
 
 strength and reason. Evidently, power in the family belongs 
 by right to liini who is strong enough to defend it and reason- 
 able enough to exercise it. 
 
 But tliis authority would only be an insupportable privilege 
 if man pretended to exercise it without doing any thing, with- 
 out returning to the family in the form of security what it 
 pays him in respect and obedience. Work is the first duty 
 of man as head of the family. Tliis is true of all classes of 
 society, as well of those who live upon their income, as of 
 those who live by their work. For the first have to make 
 themselves worthy of the fortune they have received by noble 
 occupations, or, at least, by preserving it and making it bear 
 fruit through a wise management : and the second have, I do 
 not say, a fortune to acquire, which is an aim rarely attained, 
 but they have a far more pressing object before them, namely, 
 the livelihood of those who live under their protection."* 
 
 No one has better depicted, and in a more delicate and 
 sensible manner, the common duties of husbands and wives 
 than Xenophon, who in this particular is a worthy pupil of 
 Socrates, the one of all the ancient sages who best understood 
 the duties of the family. Socrates relates in the following 
 terms the conversation of Ischomachus and his wife, — a young 
 married pair, — in which the husband instructs his wife in 
 domestic duties, 
 
 " When she had become more familiar with me, and a closer 
 connection had emboldened her to speak freely, I put to her 
 something like the following questions : ' Tell me, my wife, 
 dost thou begin to understand why I have chosen thee, and 
 why thy parents have given thee to me ? . . . If the gods 
 give u» children, we must consult with each other and do our 
 best in bringing them up : for it will be a happiness for both 
 of us to find in them the protectors and support of our old age. 
 But from this day on, all that is in this house is ours in com- 
 mon; what is mine is thine, and thou hast thyself already put 
 
 * See our book, Ln FaniiUc, 3d lecture. We take the liberty to refer the reader to 
 this book for the development of the subject.
 
 200 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 in common all that thou hast brought. Wo liave but to 
 count -which has brought most ; but avo must well remember 
 one thing, and that is, that it Avill be the one of us two who 
 Avill best manage the common property that shall have 
 brought the most valuable share of capital.' 
 
 "To this, my wife replied: 'In what can I assist thee? 
 AMiat am I able to do ? All depends on thee. My mother 
 told me that my task was to conduct myself well.' — ' Yes, by 
 Jupiter ! ' I replied, ' and my father also told me the same 
 thing ; but it is the duty of a weU-behaving couple so to be- 
 have that they may be as prosperous as possible, that by hon- 
 est and just means they may add new goods to those they 
 have. The gods, forsooth, did well when they coupled man 
 with woman for the greatest utility of mankind. The interest 
 of the family and house demands work Avithout and within. 
 Xow the gods, from the first, adapted the nature of Avoman 
 for the cares and the Avorks of the interior, and that of man 
 for the cares and the Avorks of the exterior. Cold, heat, 
 travels, Avar, man is so constituted as to be able to bear all ; 
 on the other hand, the gods haA'e given to Avoman the inclina- 
 tion and mission to nurse her offspring ; it is also she Avho is 
 in charge of the provisions, Avhilst man's care is to Avard off 
 all that could injure the household. 
 
 '"As neither is by nature perfect in all points, they neces- 
 sarily need each other ; and their union is all the more useful, 
 as AA'hat the one lacks may be supplied by the other. There- 
 fore, wife, it behooves us, Avhen instructed regarding the 
 functions the gods have as.signed to each of us, to endeavor to 
 acquit ourselves the best Ave can of those that are incumbent 
 on both. .« 
 
 " 'There is, liowuvcr,' I .said, 'one function (if thine Avhicli 
 w'iU please thee least, and that is, that if any one of thy slaves 
 should sicken, thou, by the cares due to aU, shouldst Avatch 
 over his or her recovery.' ' By Jupiter.' said my Avife, 'noth- 
 ing Avill please me more, since, recovermg by my care, they 
 will be grateful to nie and shoAV me still more affection than
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 201 
 
 in the pact.' This answer delighted me," continued Ischo- 
 niachus, and I said to her : ' Thou shalt have other cares 
 more agreeable, namely, when of an unskilled slave thou 
 shalt make a good spinner ; when of an ignorant steM\ard or 
 stewardess, thou shalt make a capable, devoted, intelligent 
 servant. But the sweetest charm shall be, when, more perfect 
 than I, thou shalt have made me thy servant ; when, instead 
 of fearing old age, lest it deprive thee of thy influence in thy 
 household, thou shalt have gained the assurance that in grow- 
 ing old thou becomest for me a still better companion, for thy 
 children a still better housekeeper, for thy household a still 
 more honored mistress. For beautv and goodness do not de- 
 pend on youth : they increase through life in the eyes of men, 
 by means of virtues.' " * 
 
 We shall say a few words, without laying greater stress 
 than necessary, about a question often debated, namely, that 
 of the dissolution of marriage or divorce. We may observe, 
 on this subject, with an excellent moralist,! whom we have 
 already cited, that as marriage becomes piu-er, its dissolution 
 will become more and more difficult. In former days, the 
 first aspect of the conjugal relation showed the husband to be 
 the master of the woman ; he bought her and sent her again 
 away as he would a slave — he had the right of repudiation. 
 Later on, he could no longer send her away from him without 
 asking the law to pronounce a divorce ; but he was at first 
 alone in claiming this right. Xext, woman obtained the same 
 right in her turn. At last divorce was suppressed, at least in 
 some States, and particularly in our country ; J and we think, 
 with the moralist quoted above, that this is the true road to 
 progress. 
 
 An Engii.sh moralist § has justly said : " If love is a passion 
 wliich a trifle may start and a trifle kill, friendship is a calm 
 affection cemented by reason and habit. It becomes stronger 
 
 * Xenophon. . + A. Ganiicr, Morale SMiale. 
 
 t The law of divorce has since been passed again in France.— [Transl.] 
 § David Hume, Essays.
 
 202 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 by rule, and it is never so strong as when two persons unite 
 in the pursuit of a common interest. How many slight annoy- 
 ances will they not endeavor to overlook, out of prudence, if they 
 are obliged to live with each other, and which, with the pros- 
 pect of an easy separation, would be allowed to fester even to 
 aversion !" It is a duty for the individual conscience, even 
 though divorce should be legallj' permitted, to consider mar- 
 riage absolutely indissoluble, or at least make it a last resort ; 
 it is, above all, a strict duty, in contracting a marriage, not to 
 look to divorce as a hope and end. 
 
 Some moralists have asked whether marriage was a duty. 
 "We do not hesitate to answer in the negative ;* that it is not 
 a duty in the case of women is evident, since it is their lot not 
 to choose themselves, but to be chosen ; now it does not always 
 depend on them to find some one to choose them ; and if it 
 is not an obligation for one of the two sexes, it would be 
 strange if it were one for the other, tee^ides, the right of 
 celibacy cannot be denied to one who gives up family life to 
 devote himself to works of charity, as in the religious orders, 
 and if this be a sufficient reason, there are many more of the 
 same kind which might -sanction the same conduct : as, for 
 example, devotion to science or the country. If it be objected 
 that every one owes himself to the preservation of the race, 
 and that if no one married the race would perish, we can reply 
 that there will always be men ready enough to marry, so that 
 no such consequences need be feared. 
 
 But the liberty of celibacy can be granted by the moral law 
 on two conditions only : the first, tliat it be based on serious 
 
 * A great German moralist, Ficlite, denies, however, people having a right to volun- 
 tarily and systematically renounce marriage : " An unmarried person," he says, " is 
 but lialf a person. A fixed resolution not to marry is absolutely contrary to duty. 
 Not to marry is, without its being one's fault, a great misfortune ; but not to marry 
 through one's fault is a great fault (Durch seine Schuld, eine grosse Schuld). It is 
 not pennittcd to sacrifice this end to other ends, even where the service of the 
 Church, or family or State duties, or, in fine, the repose of a contemplative life, are 
 concerned; for there is no higher end for man than to be a complete man." There 
 is much truth in these words of Fichte, yet may we be permitted to think that his 
 doctrine in this respect is pushed to excess, as well as that which forbids second 
 marriages.
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 203 
 
 reasons and not on selfishness ; namely, that there be good 
 reasons to believe that one could render more service in that 
 state than in an imprudently contracted marriage. The second 
 condition, that celibacy does not interfere with purity of 
 morals — the relations between the sexes being, in fact, only 
 proper and legitimate in marriage. 
 
 The relations between the sexes outside of marriage can 
 only be adultery, seduction, or licentiousness. In the first 
 case, the woman is induced to violate her duties, her vows, to 
 give up all that alone can guarantee her dignity. In the 
 second, the honor and dignity of a whole life is sacrificed to 
 passion ; in the third, you make yourself an accomplice to a 
 public and deliberate shame — a shame which would not exist 
 except for just such accomplices. At any rate, the dignity 
 of the woman — that is to say, of the weaker sex — is sacrificed 
 to the passion of the stronger. 
 
 126. Duties of parents toward their children. — An 
 English philosopher said : " Such a one is the father of such a 
 one ; hence he is his master," and he claims that paternal 
 authority was thus based on the authority of mastership. 
 
 This is a profound error. In the first place, no man can be 
 absolutely the master of another man, unless that other be a 
 slave : there can only exist relations of obedience or allegiance, 
 required by social necessity, but which do not permit any 
 man to be in absolute dependence upon another. The rela- 
 tion between father and child is, it is true, of a particular 
 kindj but it is not any more than the other the authority of 
 a master over his slave, or of a proprietor over his property. 
 
 Let us look into its origin, and we shall find, at the same 
 time, the extent and the limits of paternal authority. 
 
 To begin with, we will observe that, although usage has con- 
 secrated the term paternal authority as meaning the authority 
 exercised by parents over children, this authority includes 
 the rights of both ; of the mother as well as of the father : 
 1, in default of the father, in case of absence or death, the 
 mother has over the child exactly the same authority as the
 
 204 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 father ; 2, it is an absolute duty with parents to see that there 
 be not, in regard to their children, two separate authorities in 
 the house, two kinds of contradictory orders ; in the eyes of 
 the child there shoidd be but one and the same authority, ex- 
 ercised by two persons, but essentially indivisible ; 3, in cases 
 of conflict, the will of the father should prevail, unless the law 
 interfere ; but the father should use such a privilege only as a 
 last resort, and where it can be made evident that it is in the 
 interest of the child. Even' then he should see that the 
 obedience to one of the parents be no disobedience to the 
 other, for that would be destroying at its root the very author- 
 ity he makes use of. 
 
 Paternal authority is, then, the common authority of both 
 parents over their children ; and it is only an exception to the 
 rule when the authority of one parent becomes detrimental to 
 that of the other. 
 
 What is now the principle of this authority ? A purely 
 physical reason is given for it ; that the child, namely, is in 
 some respect a part of the parents. But this reason is not 
 sufficient ; for it would presuppose paternal authority to last 
 all through life under the same conditions and same degree of 
 force ; whereas it continues ever diminishing as the child be- 
 comes able to govern himself. 
 
 The true reason for paternal or maternal authority lies in the 
 feebleness of the child, in its physical, intellectual, and moral 
 incapacity. The cliild in coming into the world is utterly in- 
 capable of doing for itself. Supposing even that it could 
 Siitisfy its physical wants, experience shows that it could' not 
 give itself an education, without which it cannot be truly a 
 man. This state of feebleness requires, then, indispensable 
 assistance, and an assistance of long duration. It needs a hand 
 to support and feed it, a heart to love it, an intelligence to en- 
 lighten it. To whom belongs this role of educator, protector, 
 sustainer? "There have been some who have wished to take 
 the child from the family to give it to the State; this is a 
 great error; for the child tshould evidcintly belong to those
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 205 
 
 Avitliout whom lie would have no existence. In the first place, 
 it were burdening society with a thing it is not responsible 
 for ; moreover, it has no right upon the child, no particular 
 tie existing between them; finally, it offers no sufficient 
 guaranty, and there can be at best expected of it but a vague 
 and general solicitude, if, indeed, the same is not a partial 
 one, and in favor of those from whom it may derive most ad- 
 vantages ; whilst parents should unquestionably have charge 
 of the child, since it is through them it exists ; and having 
 charge of it, gives them a right to it : and how could they be 
 responsible for this being they have given life to, if they could 
 not in some measure dispose of it 1 There are three ties be- 
 tv/een the parents and the child : a physical bond, a heart- 
 bond, a reason-bond : no other authority rests on more natural 
 principles; none is more necessary, none is protected by 
 greater guarantees." * 
 
 JSTot only would the State, in taking possession of the child, 
 encumber itself with functions for the performance of which 
 it is unfitted, but it would also violate the natural rights of 
 the human heart. Parents are, then, invested by nature her- 
 self, with the duty of supporting and educating their children. 
 But this duty calls for authority. How could a father and 
 mother direct the child in the path of right and justice ; how 
 could they impart to it their wisdom and experience; how 
 could they prepare the way for its becoming in its turn a 
 moral agent — one, namely, that acts and governs himself of 
 his own accord — if they are not at the same time invested 
 with' the authority that commands obedience ? 
 
 Paternal authority, as we see by this, has no other origin 
 than the actual interest of the child : the mission of the 
 parents is to represent it; they have in some respect the 
 government of its life. The whole authority of the father 
 upon the child is, then, limited by the interests and the riglits 
 of the child itself. Beyond what may be useful to its physical 
 
 * La Famillc. Itli Lecture.
 
 206 ELEMEXTS OF MORALS. 
 
 and. moral existence, the father can do nothing. Such are the 
 extent and. limits of his authority. 
 From these principles we deduce : 
 
 1. That parents have now no right of life and death upon 
 their children as they have had under certain legislations. 
 
 2. That they have neither the right to strike them, mai-treat 
 them, wound them — in short, treat them as they would animals 
 or things ; and although usage appears to allow certain cor- 
 poreal punishments, it will always be a bad example and a 
 bad habit to use blows as a means of education. 
 
 3. Parents have no right to traffic with the liberty of their 
 sons, to sell them as slaves as in ancient times, or to turn 
 them into instruments of gain, as in many families even to 
 this day. Certainly one could not wholly forbid a father to 
 make a child work toward the support of the family, but it 
 must be done without losing sight of the child's strength, 
 and without sacrificing its intellectual and moral education. 
 
 4. Parents have no light to corrupt their children, by mak- 
 ing them accomplices in their own protiigacy. 
 
 Grotius justly distinguishes three periods in paternal author- 
 ity :* the first, when the children have as yet no discernment, 
 and are not capable of acting with full knowledge ; the sec^ 
 ond, when their judgment, being already ripe, they are still 
 members of the family and have no business of their own ; 
 the last, when they have left their father's house, either to 
 become heads of families themselves, or to enter into another. 
 In the first of these conditions, the will of the parents is en- 
 tirely substituted for that of the children, and their authority, 
 within the limits above stated, is consequently absolute. In 
 the third case, the son, having reached his n\ajority or matur- 
 ity, has conquered for himself an independent will ; paternal 
 authority must consequently change into moral influence, 
 wliicli a grateful son will respect, but which is no longer, prop- 
 erly so called, an authority. Finally, in the intermediate state. 
 
 * Du druit dc la gnciTC et dc la paix, I., 11. ch. v. § 2.
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 207 
 
 wliicli is the most difficult of all, the paternal will, wliilst re- 
 maining preponderant, yields more and more to the will of 
 the clhldren, thereby preparing it toward becoming sufficient 
 to itself. 
 
 Let us examine the duties of the parents at these different 
 periods of paternal authority. 
 
 There is, to begin with, a general duty, which overrides the 
 whole life of the parents as well as of the children, and which 
 is independent of the latter's age : it is the duty of love. Par- 
 ents must love their childi'en; it is the foundation of all the rest. 
 It may perhaps be objected that love is a natural feeling and 
 cannot be a duty ; that the heart is not subject to the will ; 
 that one may love or not love, accorcUiig as one is by nature 
 so constituted ; that duty therefore has nothing to do vrith it. 
 It is also said that paternal or maternal love is so natural a 
 sentiment that it is useless to make a duty of it. 
 
 These arguments do not appear to us decisive ; and we 
 have already ansAvered them. We cannot, of course, create 
 within ourselves sentiments which do not already exist. But 
 we can cultivate or allow to die out sentiments which do exist 
 within us naturally. The degree of sensibility in each indi- 
 vidual depends, I admit, on liis or her peculiar constitution of 
 mind and heart ; but it depends on us to reach the highest 
 degree of sensibility we are capable of. For example, he Avho 
 leaves liis children or removes them from him (unless it be 
 for their good*) may be certain that the love he bears them 
 will insensibly die out. He, on the contrary, who takes the 
 trouble to busy himself with his children, to win their love by 
 intelligent and constant attentions, Avill necessarily feel bis 
 heart grow softer by this intercourse, and his natural feelings 
 will gain more and more strength. 
 
 But if it is a duty to love one's children, it is also in conse- 
 quence of this duty that one should love them for themselves, 
 and not for one's self. It is not our happiness we should seek 
 
 * And that may be questioned.
 
 208 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 in our children, but theirs ; and for this reason does it some- 
 times become necessary to govern one's own sensibility, and 
 deny children pleasures detrimental to their best interests. 
 The excess of tenderness is often, as has been said, but a want 
 of tenderness ; it is a sort of delicate selfishness, shrinking 
 from the pain the seeming suffering of the children might in- 
 flict, and not Icnowing how to refuse them any thing for fear 
 of displeasing them, prepares for them in this manner cruel 
 deceptions against the time when they will have to face the 
 sad realities of life. 
 
 A corollary of what precedes, is that the father should love 
 all his children equally, and guard against showing a prefer- 
 ence. He should have no favorites among them, still less 
 victims. He should not, from feelings of family pride, prefer 
 the boys to the girls, or the oldest to the youngest. He 
 should not even yield to the natural predilection which in- 
 clines us to give our preference to the most amial^le, the most 
 intelligent, the most attractively endowed. It has often been 
 observed that mothers have a particular tenderness for the 
 feeblest of their children, or those that have given most 
 trouble. If preference is at all justifiable it is in this case. 
 
 After having established the general principle of the duties 
 of the head of a family, namely, love, and an equal love, for 
 all his children, let us consider the particular duties this gen- 
 eral duty comprises. They bear upon two principal points : 
 the preservation and the education of the children. 
 
 We have seen that the fact of giving life to children, carries 
 with it as an inevitable consequence the duty of preserv- 
 ing it to them. The child not being able to provide its own 
 food, the parents must furnish it : this results from the very 
 nature of things. 
 
 Whence it follows, that a father must work to provide for 
 his children : this is so evident and necessary a duty that 
 there is hardly any need of dwelling on it. 
 
 But it is not only for the present that the head of the 
 family ought to provide ; he should provide for the future 
 also. He should, on the one hand, foresee the case when, by
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 209 
 
 some possible misfortune, he may be taken from his children 
 before they are grown ; and on the other, prepare the way to 
 their providing for themselves. The iirst case shows us how 
 economy and prudence become thus a sacred duty for the 
 head of a family. This also explains how it may be a duty in 
 contracting a marriage not to lose sight of the question of 
 property : not that this consideration should not give way 
 before others more important ; but other things being equal, 
 the best marriage is that which, keeping in view the future 
 interests of the children, provides against the case when by 
 some misfortune they may be left orphans at an early age. 
 
 In supposing the most favorable cases, the father and 
 mother may hope that they will live long enough to see their 
 cliildren becoming in their turn independent persons, able to 
 provide for themselves. It is in view of this, that parents 
 should plan a profession or a career for their children ; in 
 most cases, it is a necessity, it is expedient in all. But the 
 preparation for a career presupposes education ; and here the 
 material interests and security of the children blend with their 
 intellectual and moral interests. 
 
 Everybody recognizes in the education of children two 
 distinct things : instruction and education properly so called : 
 the first has for its object the mind ; and the second the char- 
 acter. These two things must not be separated : for, without 
 instruction, all education is powerless ; and without a moral 
 education, instruction may be dangerous. 
 
 Parents should then — and it is a strict duty — give to their 
 children the instruction their resources and condition allow ; 
 but they are not permitted to leave tliem in ignorance if they 
 have the means to educate them. Some nan-ow minds still 
 believe that instruction is of no use to the people, and is even 
 a dangerous thing. This has been sufficiently refuted. The 
 greatest number of crimes and offenses are committed by the 
 most ignorant classes : the more they learn, the better w'ill 
 they understaml the duties of their condition and the dignity 
 of human nature. It has been justly s;«id that little knowl-
 
 210 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 edge may be more dangerous than ignorance : for this reason 
 should men be raised above the dangerous point, and be put 
 in possession of as much knowledge as their condition Avar- 
 rants. 
 
 Instruction has two useful effects : first, it increases the re- 
 sources of a man, renders him better qualified for a greater 
 variety of things ; it is then, as political economy styles it, a 
 capital. Parents, in having their children taught, give them 
 thereby a far more substantial and productive capital than what 
 they coidd transmit to them by gift or legacy. In the second 
 place, instruction elevates man and ennobles liis nature. If it 
 is reason that distinguishes man from the brute, knowledge 
 enlarges and heightens reason. Instruction thus works to- 
 gether with moral education and forms one of its essential parts. 
 
 The head of a family who then, from personal interest, 
 negligence, ill-will, or, in fine, from ignorance, deprives his 
 children of the instruction which is their due, fails thereby in 
 an essential duty.* 
 
 It must, moreover, be admitted, that instruction alone does 
 not suffice ; science alone does not form character ; persuasion, 
 authority, example, the moral action of every instant is neces- 
 sary thereto. It is a great problem to know how much of fear 
 and gentleness, restraint and liberty shoidd enter in paternal 
 education. AU agree that a child should not be brought up 
 through fear alone, as the animals are. As Fenelon admirably 
 puts it, " Joy and confidence should be the natural state of 
 mind of children ; otherwise their intelligence becomes ob- 
 scured, their courage droops ; if they are lively, fear will irritate 
 them ; if soft, it will make them stupid ; fear is Hke the 
 violent remedies employed in extreme illnesses : they purge ; 
 but they injure the constitution and wear out its organs ; a 
 soul led by fear is always the feebler for it. " 
 
 On the other hand, everybody admits also that an exces- 
 
 * This duty to-day is imposed by law : " Primary instniction is obligatory for 
 children of both sexes from six to thirteen years." (Law of the 28th March, 1882, 
 art. 4.)
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 211 
 
 sive indulgence is as dangerous as a despotic authorit}'. 
 Rousseau ingenuously remarks : " The best means of making 
 your child miserable is to accustom it to obtaining all it 
 Avants ; for its desires will incessantly grow with the facility 
 with which it can satisfy them ; sooner or later the inability 
 to content it, will, despite yourself, oblige you to refuse, and 
 this unexpected denial will give it more pain than the depri- 
 vation of the thing itself. First it will ^vant the cane yon 
 have in your hand ; then your Avatch ; then the bird in the 
 air; the bright star in the sky ; in short, all that it sees: and 
 unless you were a god, how could you satisfy it?" This 
 remark of Rousseau refers to the earliest cliildhood, but it can 
 be applied to all ages. 
 
 It is evident that all the duties we have here mentioned 
 relate principally to the first of the three periods distinguished 
 by Grotius. As the cliildren grow up, their own personal 
 responsibility gTadually takes the place of the paternal respon- 
 sibilit)-, and there comes the time of the third state above 
 mentioned, when both father and mother no longer owe- their 
 children any thing more than love or advice. Instead of being 
 answerable for their existence, it is rather the reverse. It is 
 the children's turn to become responsible for the happiness 
 and safety of their parents. 
 
 But, as Ave have said, the really difficult moment is that 
 Avhen the young man, awakening to himself, becomes conscious 
 of a Avill, and, Avithout experience and sense of proportion, 
 wishes to exercise this Avill Avithout restraint. It is here 
 especially that the paternal Avill must shoAV itself firm Avithout 
 despotism, and persuasive without flattery and Aveakness, and 
 Avhere it becomes necessary that the paternal authority be firmly 
 rooted in the first age and upon solid foundations, so that the 
 young man, even in his fits of self-will, may submit to this 
 authority Avith confidence and respect. There is no particular 
 formula Avhich could set forth a rule of conduct obligatory 
 under all circumstances. Tact in this case is better than 
 rules.
 
 Q 
 
 12 ELEMEXTS OF MORALS. 
 
 127. Duties of children. — The German philosopher Fichte, 
 ill his book on Ethics, has said some very good things touch- 
 ing the duties of children ; we will cite from it some of the 
 pages devoted to tliis subject.* 
 
 " The right of parents to set limits to tlie liberty of their 
 children cannot be questioned. 1 should respect the liberty 
 of another man, because I regard him as a being morally 
 educated, whose liberty is the necessary means whereby he 
 may reach the end reason points out to him. I cannot be his 
 judge, for he is my equal. But it is not the same in the case 
 of my child. I regard my child not as a moral creature already 
 formed, but to be formed ; and it is precisely for this reason 
 that it is my duty to educate it. The same reason whicli 
 commands me to respect the liberty of my equals, commands 
 me to limit that of my child. 
 
 "But I am to limit this liberty only in so far as the use the 
 child may make of it might be injurious to the very end of 
 its education. Any other repression is contrary to duty, for 
 it is contrary to the end in. view. It is the very liberty of the 
 child which must be instructed ; and that this instruction be 
 possible, the child must be free. Parents should not, there- 
 fore, through mere caprice, forbid children, with a view, as is 
 said, to break their will : it is only wkere the will would run 
 counter to the direct aims of their education that it should be 
 broken. Here, however, parents must be the sole judges ; and 
 are answerable to their conscience alone." " The only duty 
 of the child," says Fichte again, " is obedience : this should be 
 developed before any other moral sentiment ; for it is the root 
 of all morality. Later on, when in the sphere left free by the 
 parents, morality has become possible, the dut}- of obedience 
 is still the greatest of all duties, the child shoidd not wish to 
 be free beyond the limits fixed by the parents themselves." 
 
 Fichte explains next very ingeniously, how obedience is tlie 
 only way by which the child can imitate the morality it can- 
 not yet know : " The same relation which binds the full-grown 
 
 ♦ Fichte, System der SUtenlehrc, Pt. III., cli. iii., § 29.
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 213 
 
 man to the moral law, and to its author, God, binds the child 
 to its parents. We should do all that duty commands us to 
 do, absolutely and without troubling ourselves about conse- 
 quences ; but to be able to do this, we must suppose these 
 consequences to be in the hands of God, and intended for our 
 good : the same with the child in regard to parental com- 
 mands. Cliristianity represents God in the image of a father, 
 and justly so. But we should not simply be satisfied always 
 and incessantly to speak of his goodness ; we shoidd also 
 think of our obligations toward him; of our obedience, and 
 that childlike trust free from all anxiety and uneasiness which 
 we ought to cultivate in regard to his will. To create a similar 
 obedience is the only means by which parents may implant 
 the sentiment of morality in the hearts of their children : it is, 
 therefore, a real duty for parents to exercise their children in 
 a similar obedience. It is a very false notion, which, like 
 many others, we owe to the ruling eudemonism* of the day, 
 that wrong inclinations of the child can be thwarted by 
 reasoning Avith it. There is implied in this notion the ab- 
 surdity of supposing the child to be possessed of a greater 
 share of reasoning power than ourselves : for even adults are 
 most of the time prompted in their acts by inclination, and not 
 by reason.! 
 
 " Another question presents itself now : How far, in its rela- 
 tion to its parents, shoidd the child's absolute obedience go 1 
 Tliis question may have two sides : the one as to the extent 
 of this obedience, and the other as to its limits ; how far it 
 should go; or in regard to length of time, hrnv long it shall 
 last, and, if it is to cease at all, at what particular time it is to 
 stop ? 
 
 In the first case, the question ma}' be raised either from the 
 child's or from the parents' standpoint. On the part of the 
 child it should never be raised. The answer is this : The 
 
 * Doctrine of happines-t. 
 
 t Fic'hte is right here when he speaks of the exaggeration of this principle. But 
 the principle itself is a true one, namely, that one should accustom children to act 
 according to their own reason : it is the only means of teaching them liberty.
 
 214 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 child sLoulil obey, and its obedience consists in its not wishing 
 to have any more liberty than its parents permit it to have. 
 Of the necessary limits of this obedience, the parents can alone 
 judge ; the child cannot. The doctrine that the child shoidd 
 obey in all reasonable cases, as we often hear it said, is a con- 
 tradictory on3. He who only obeys in reasonable cases does 
 not obey, for he becomes himself then the judge of what is 
 reasonable and what is not. If lie does any thing suitable be- 
 cause he judges it to be so, he acts according to his ovra con- 
 viction, and not from obedience. "NMiether this obedience 
 Avhich they exact be reasonable or not, it is for the parents to 
 answer for it before their own consciences ; but they should 
 not allow their children to sit in judgment over them. But, 
 it may be asked, suppose the parents command their children 
 to do an immoral thing? I answer : Either the immoralitj'' of 
 it is only discovered after a laborious investigation, or it is ob- 
 vious. In the first case, there can be no difficidty ; for the 
 obedient child does not suspect his parents capable of com- 
 manding him to do any wrong. In the second, the very basis 
 of obedience — namely, the belief in the superior morality of 
 the parents — is destroyed ; and then a prolonged obedience 
 Avould be contrary to duty. The same when the immorality 
 or the shame of the parents is self-evident in the children's 
 eyes. Obedience then ceases because education through the 
 parents becomes impossible. 
 
 The second question is : How long does the duty of obe- 
 dience last ? The answer to this is : Obedience, in the first 
 place, is only exacted in view of education ; and education is 
 a means to an end ; that end being the utilization of the 
 child's powers for some reasonable purpose, under whatever 
 circumstances or through whatever mode.. "When that end 
 has been attained, the child cannot judge : it is for the parents 
 to decide. Xow two cases are possible here : 
 
 One is where the father himself declares the end attained 
 and leaves his children free to act according to their own will 
 and judgment.
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 215 
 
 The other is where a certain result is sufficient to declare 
 the end attained. The State is in this instance a competent 
 outside judge. For example, if the State entrusts an office to 
 a son, it declares the latter's education completed ; the judg- 
 ment of the State is the parents' judicial bond : they must 
 submit to it without appeal : it binds them also morally, and 
 they must submit to it from a sense of duty. 
 
 There is finaU}' a third case : this is where parental educa- 
 tion is no longer possible, as, for example, on the marriage of 
 the children. The daughter then gives herself to her husband 
 and becomes subject to his will : she can therefore no longer 
 depend upon her parents' will. The son assumes the care of 
 his wife, conformably to her wishes ; he can therefore no 
 longer be guided by others' wishes, not even by those of his 
 parents. 
 
 These three cases do not yet exhaust the question ; for we 
 may suppose a fourth : the one where the cliildren are not 
 called to a function, by the State ; when they do not marry, 
 and when the parents are nevertheless unwilling to relax their 
 authority, seemingly wishing to uphold the obedience of early 
 childhood. In tliis case, the parents evidently overstep their 
 rights ; for it is obvious that at a given time man must belong 
 to himself. This time has been tixed by the State ; which 
 determines when one attains to his majority. In granting to 
 a son tlie free disposal of his property, the liberty to make 
 contracts, to traffic, the right of suffrage, the right to marry, 
 etc., the State puts an end to paternal authority as an author- 
 ity armed with restraint, yet certainly not as a moral authority, 
 for in this respect it is indelible. The son having become a 
 person, and being in his turn invested with moral respon- 
 sibility, may lay obedience aside, but he does not with this lay 
 aside the respect, gratitude, and affection he owes his parents. 
 
 Even after the emancipation of the children, there still 
 exists between them and their parents a moral tie. 
 
 Parents, especially if they have been, as we suppose, the 
 educators of their children, know their inner being, their dis-
 
 21G ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 position : they have seen it develop under their eyes ; they 
 have formed it. They therefore know it better than the chil- 
 dren themselves can know it. They consequently continue 
 to be their best advisers. There is then left to parents a 
 special duty, namely, that of advising their cliildren, and on 
 the part of the children a correlative duty, that of listening 
 attentively to the advice of their parents, and of considering 
 it carefully. Thus do parents retain their care and solicitude 
 for their children, and the children the duty of respect. 
 
 These duties of respect and gratitude toward parents have 
 been admirably expressed by the ancient writers. 
 
 Plato, after speaking of the honor \vliich should be given to the gods, 
 says : " Next conies the honor of living parents, to -whom, as is meet, 
 we have to pay the first and greatest and oldest of all debts, considering 
 that all wluch a man has belongs to those who gave him birth and 
 brouf^ht him up, and that he must do all that he can to minister to them : 
 first, in his jjroperty ; secondly, in his person ; and thirdly, in his soul ; 
 paying the debts due to them for the care and travail which they be- 
 stowed upon him of old, in the days of his infancy, and which he is now 
 to pay back to them when they are old and in the extremity of their 
 need. And all his life long he ought never to utter, or to have uttered, 
 an unbecoming word to them ; for all light and winged Avords he will 
 have to give an account; Nemesis, the messenger of justice, is appointed 
 to watch over them. And we ought to yield to our parents when they 
 are angry, and let them satisfy their feelings in word or deed, consider- 
 ing that, when a father thinks that he has been wronged by his son, he 
 may be expected to be very angry. " * 
 
 Xenophon, likewise, relates to us an admirable exhortation 
 of Socrates to his oldest son Lamprocles, on filial piety. It is 
 well known that the wife of Socrates, Xantippe, was noted 
 for her crabbed disposition, which often sorely tried Socrates' 
 patience. Xo doubt this was the case with the sons also ; 
 but, less patient than their father, they yielded sometimes to 
 their anger. Socrates recalls Lamprocles to his duty as a son, 
 enumerating to him all that mothers have to endure for their 
 children : 
 
 * The Dial(>r;acs of Plato. liaws. B. Jowett's Traii:-.Ia(i<«i, 13. IV., 23S.
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 217 
 
 "The woman receives and bears the hurJen, oppressing and endan- 
 gering her life, and imparting a portion of the nutriment with which 
 she is herself supported ; and at length, after bearing it the full time, 
 and bringing it forth with great pain, she suckles and cherishes it, 
 though she has received no previous benefit from it, nor does the 
 infant know by whom it is tended, nor is it able to signify what it 
 wants, but she, conjecturing what will nourish and please it, tries to 
 satisfy its calls, and feeds it for a long time, both night and day, sub- 
 mitting to the trouble, and not knowing what return she vriW receive for 
 it. Nor does it satisfy the parents merely to feed their offspring, but 
 as soon as the children appear capable of learning any thing, they teach 
 them whatever they know that may be of use for their conduct in life ; 
 and whenever they consider another more capable of communicating 
 than themselves, they send their sons to him at their own expense, and 
 take care to adopt every course that their children may be as much im- 
 proved as possible. " 
 
 Upon this the young man said : "But, even if she has done all this, 
 no one, assuredly, could endure her ill-humor." 
 
 "And do you reflect," returned Socrates, "how much grievous trouble 
 you have given her by your peevishness, by voice and by action, in the 
 day and in the night, and how much anxiety you have caused her when 
 you were ill ? . . . Or do you suppose your mother meditates evil to- 
 ward you?" "No, indeed," said Lamprocles, "that I do not suppose." 
 " Do you then say that this mother," rejoined Socrates, " who is so be- 
 nevolent to you, who, when you are ill, takes care of you, to the utmost 
 of her power, that you may recover your health, and who, besides, en- 
 treats the gods for many blessings on your head, is a harsh mother ? Oh, 
 my son, if you are wise, you will entreat the gods to pardon you if you 
 have been wanting in Respect toward your mother, lest, regarding you 
 as an ungrateful person, they should be disinclined to do you good; and 
 you will have regard, also, to the opinion of men, lest, observing you to 
 be neglectful of your parents, they should all contemn you, and you 
 should then be found destitute of friends ; for if men surmise that you 
 are ungrateful toward your jiarents, no one will believe that if he does 
 you a kindness he will meet with gratitude in return."* 
 
 Although children, ■when of age, belong legally to themselves, 
 there are yet two serioxis circumstances, where they should 
 exhaust all the forms of respect and submission before they 
 make a harsh use of the rights Avhich the law grants them : 
 these are marriage, and the choice of a profession. In the first 
 
 * Xt;noplioii's Memorabilia of Socrates, translation liy J. 8. Watson, B. II., Chap. 2. 
 
 10
 
 218 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 case, both the law and morality reqiure the consent of the 
 parents ; and it is only as a last extremity, and after three re- 
 spectful appeals to them, that proceedings may go on. Here 
 again, although the law permits it, it may be said that, except 
 in extreme and exceptional cases, it is always better not to 
 proceed, but wait till some change of circumstances brings 
 about a change in the mind of the parents. In fact, the par- 
 ents' resistance in these cases is generally in the interest of 
 the children ; they wish to protect them against the impulses 
 of their passions. They have, besides, a sort of right to inter- 
 dict the admission into the family and the taking of its name 
 to any one that might be unworthy of these favors. 
 
 The obligation not to marry without the consent of the par- 
 rents (except in extreme cases) does not carry with it the ob- 
 ligation of marrying against one's will in order to obey them. 
 This would be the violation of a duty toward others ; you 
 have no right to jeopardize the happiness of a third party, that 
 you might on your side practice the duty of obedience. To 
 marry w^tn repugnance is contrary to duty, for it is entering 
 into the bonds of an unhappy union. 
 
 As to the choice of a profession, the obligation to conform 
 to the desires and the will of the parents is less strict than in 
 marriage ; and it is obvious that the first, the stricter duty 
 here, is to choose the profession one is best fitted for. But as 
 there is here also, on the side of the children, much inexperi- 
 ence (as among the various professions there are some very 
 difficult, even dangerous ones, wlicre success is often very rare, 
 and which for this reason are all the more tempting), it is 
 clear that in such a case it is the children's duty, except where 
 there is an irresistible proclivity, to allow themselves to be 
 guided by a more enlightened and more prudent experience. 
 At any rate, the strict duty is to confer with the parents, con- 
 sult their superior wisdom, and delay as much as possible a 
 final resolve. These principles once set down, it is certain 
 that, on the other hand, one should not, to obey one's parents, 
 follow a profession one felt no capacity for whatsoever.
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 219 
 
 There the duties toward society and toward one's self take 
 precedence of the family duties. 
 
 128. Fraternal duties. — Socrates, who has spoken so well 
 of the duties of husbands and wives and the duties of children, 
 shall here again be our guide as to the duties of brothers and 
 sisters. Two brothers, ChaBsephon and Chsesecrates, did not 
 live well together. Socrates tried to reconcile them with each 
 other by an exhortation, of which the following gives the 
 principal points:* 
 
 1. Brothers are better than riches ; for they are things en- 
 dowed with reason, whilst wealth is but a senseless thing; 
 brothers are a protection; riches, on the contrary, need pro- 
 tection. 
 
 2. One had rather live with fellow-citizens than live alone ; 
 how much more would one not rather live with brothers. 
 
 3. Is not the being born of the same parents, the having 
 been brought up together, very strong reasons to love one 
 another ? Even among brutes a certain affection springs up 
 between those that are raised together. 
 
 4. Even though our brothers be of dispositions difficult to 
 live with, we should make advances to bring them nearer to 
 us. 
 
 5. It is for the youngest to make advances to the oldest. 
 
 A modern moralist, Silvio Pcllico,! expresses most deli- 
 cately the duties of brothers and sisters in their intercourse 
 with each other : 
 
 " To practice properly, in one's relations with men, the 
 divine science of charity, one must have learned it at home. 
 Wliat ineffable sweetness is there in the thought : ' We are 
 the children of the same mother ! . . .' If you wish to be a 
 good brother, beware of selfishness. Let each of your brotherp_ 
 each of your sisters, see that their interests are as dear to you 
 as your own. If one of them commits a fault, be indulgent 
 to it. Rejoice over their virtues • imitate them." 
 
 ♦ Xenophnn's Mcznorabilia. Translation J. S. Watson. 
 i Des Devoirs de I'homme, ch. xii.
 
 220 ELEMENTS OJ? MORALS. 
 
 " The familiarity of the fireside should never make you for- 
 get to be courteous toward your brothers. 
 
 " Bo still more courteous toward your sisters. Their sex is 
 endowed with a powerful attraction ; it is a divine gift which 
 they use to make the house pleasant and cheerful. You will 
 find in your sisters the delicious charm of womanly virtues ; 
 and since nature has made them more feeble and sensitive 
 than you, be attentive to them in their troubles, console them, 
 and do not cause them any unnecessary pain. 
 
 " Those who contract the habit of being ill-natured and rude 
 toward their brothers and sisters, are rude and ill-natured 
 toward everybody else. If the home-intercourse is tender 
 and true, man will experience in his other social relations the 
 same need of esteem and noble affections." 
 
 129. Duties of masters toward their servants. — One 
 of the uiobt inipurtant functions of home administration, is 
 the management of domestics. It comprises two things : 
 choice and direction. It is well known how important in a 
 household the choice of servants is ; as it is they who attend 
 to the marketing and pay the bills, so that the finances of the 
 house are, to some extent, in their hands.* But this is but 
 one of the lesser features of the influence of servants in a 
 household ; the most serious one is their familiar intercourse 
 Avith the children ; and it is there especially that it becomes 
 necessary to make sure of their fidelity and honesty. Yet to 
 make a careful and successful choice is of no use, if one is igno- 
 rant of the art of directing and governing, which consists in 
 a just medium between too much lenity and too much severity. 
 The master of the house should, of course, always have his 
 eyes open, but he should also know that no human being 
 learns to do things well, if he is n(jt allowed to act with some 
 sort of freedom. 
 
 StirveiUa/ice and confidence ar(3 the two principles of a wise 
 domestic government. Without the first, one is apt to be 
 cheated ; without the second, one cheats one's self in depriving 
 
 * A European custom. -Transi.
 
 FAMILY DUTIES. 221 
 
 the servant of the most energetic elements of human will, re- 
 sponsibility and honor.* 
 
 The master, again, should aA'oid being violent and brutal 
 toward his servants. He should require of them all that is just, 
 yet without pushing his requirements to the point of persecu- 
 tion. Many persons deprive themselves of good servants, be- 
 cause they cannot patiently bear with the inevitable defects 
 inherent in human nature. 
 
 On the other hand, the servant owes his master : 1, an ab- 
 solute honesty. As it is the servants Avho do the marketing 
 and pay the bills, they have the funds of the family in their 
 hands. The more one is obliged to trust them the more are they 
 bound to restrain themselves from the slightest act of dis- 
 honesty. 2. They owe obedience and exactness in the duties 
 pertaining to their service. 3. They should, as much as pos- 
 sible, attach themselves to the persons whose service they 
 have entered; the longer they stay with them, the more will 
 they be considered as part of the family, find the greater will 
 be their right to the regard and affection due to age and 
 fidelity. 
 
 130. Duties of children toward servants. — It is not only 
 the master and mistress of the house that have duties to fidtill 
 toward servants, but the children also. The latter are, in 
 general, too much disposed to treat servants as instruments of 
 their wishes and the playthings of their caprices. Although 
 .slavery is no longer allowed, some children, if let alone, would 
 very soon re-establish it for their own benefit. To command, 
 insult, beat, are the not uncommon modes of procedure with 
 children that are left entirely free in their relations with in- 
 feriors. The latter, on the other hand, do not hesitate to em- 
 ploy force, in the absence of the masters, and pass readily from 
 slavery to tyranny. All such conduct is reprehensible. The 
 servant should never be allowed to strike; but he sliould him- 
 self not be struck or insulted. In childhood, it is for the 
 ])arents to oversee the relations between tlieir servants and 
 
 * See our work ou Ixi Fa7tiille (3il lecture).
 
 232 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 children. Later it is for the children themselves, when they 
 have reached the age of reason, to know that they must not 
 treat servants like brutes. The same observations may be ap- 
 plied to workmen, in circumstances where workmen are in 
 some respect in the service of the family. 
 
 Although servants are no longer slaves, nor even serfs, one 
 may still, modifying its meaning, quote Seneca's admirable 
 protestation against slavery : " They are slaves ! rather say 
 they are men ! They are slaves ! Not any more than thou ! 
 He whom thou callest a slave, was born of the same seed as 
 thyself ; he enjoys the same sky, breathes the same air, lives 
 and dies the same as thou." Seneca closes this eloquent 
 apostrophe with a maxim recalling the Gospel : " Live with 
 thy inferiors, as thou wouldst thy superior should live Avith 
 thee." 
 
 As to the duties of servants to their masters, they belong to 
 the class of professional duties which we shall take up further 
 on (Chap. XIIL).
 
 CHAPTEH XI. 
 
 DCTTIES TOWARD ONE'*S SELF — DUTIES RELATIVE TO 
 
 THE BODY. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 Have we duties toward ourselves? — The person of a man should 
 not only be sacred to others, it also should be so to himself. 
 
 Even though man ceased to be in any relation with other men (as, for 
 example, in a desert island), he would still have duties to perform. 
 
 The duty of self-preservation.— Suicide.— Arguments of Sousseau 
 for and against suicide. 
 
 The different standpoints from which one may condemn suicide : 
 1, either as contrary to the duties toward men ; 2, or to the duties 
 toward God ; 3, or, lastly, to the duties toward ourselves. 
 
 Kant's fundamental argument against suicide : 
 
 " Man cannot abdicate his personality as long as he has duties to per- 
 form, which is the same as to say, as long as he lives. " 
 
 Case of conscience. — iSTot to confound suicide with self-sacrifice. 
 
 Of voluntary mutilations and of the duty to avoid injuring one's health. 
 That this duty should be understood in a wide sense, and not as an 
 encouragement to constant preoccupation about the condition of one's 
 body. 
 
 Of cleanliness. 
 
 Other duties concerning the body.— Temperance.— Temperance 
 recommended for two reasons : 1, as necessary to health, and conse- 
 rpxently as a corollary to the duty of self-preservation ; 2, as necessary 
 to human dignity, which, through intemperance, falls below the 
 brute. 
 
 Of the moderate use of sensual pleasures. That we should elevate them 
 by attaching to them ideas and sentiments. 
 
 Other virtues : Decency, modesty, propriety, etc. 
 
 131. Have we duties toward ourselves? — This has been
 
 224 ELEMENTS OE MOKALS. 
 
 disputed, and it seems rather strange that it should have been. 
 No one, say the jurists, binds liimself to himself ; no one does 
 himself injustice, they say again. In short, man belongs to 
 himself : is not that the first of ownerships, and the basis of all 
 the others ? 
 
 " No," replies Victor Cousin, " from man's being free and belonging 
 to himself, it is not to be concluded that he has all power over himself. 
 From the fact alone that he is endowed with both liberty and intelli- 
 gence, I, on the contrary, conclude that he cannot, without failing in 
 his duty, degrade his liberty any more than he can degrade his intelli- 
 gence. Liberty is not only sacred to others ; it is so in itself. 
 
 " This obligation imposed on the moral personality to respect itself, it 
 is not I who established it ; I cannot, therefore, destroy it. Is the 
 respect I have for myself founded on one of those arbitrary agreements 
 which cease to be when the two parties freely renounce it ? Are the two 
 contracting parties here I and myself ? No ; there is one of the parties 
 that is not I, namely, humanity itself, the moral personality, the human 
 essence \\-hicli does not belong to me, which is not my property, which 
 I can no more degrade or wound in myself than I can in others. There 
 is not even any agreement here or contract. 
 
 " Finally, man would still have duties, even though he ceased to be 
 in any relation with other inen. As long as he has any intelligence and 
 liberty left, the idea of right remains in him, and with that idea, duty. 
 If he were all at once thrown upon a desert island, duty Avould still 
 follow him there. " * 
 
 Kant has likewise defended the existence of the duties of 
 man toward himself. 
 
 " Supposing," he says, "that there were no duties of this kind, there 
 would not be any duties then of any kind ; for I can only think myself 
 under obligations to others, so far as I am under obligations to myself. 
 .... Thus do people say, when the question is to save a man or his 
 life : I owe this to myself ; I owe it to myself to cultivate such disposi- 
 tions of mind as make of me a fit member of society {Doctrine de la 
 vertu, trad. fran?. de Barni, p. 70)." 
 
 132. Duties concerning the body. -Duty of self-preser- 
 vation. — Th(i duties toward one's self are generally divided 
 
 * Le Vrai, Ic Beau et le Bien. Lect. xxi., cli. xxii.
 
 DUTIES TOWARD ONE's SELF. 225 
 
 into two classes : duties toicard the body , duties toward the 
 soul. Kant justly criticised this distinction, and asks how can 
 there be any obligations toward the body — that is to say, to- 
 ward a mass of matter — which, apart from the soul, is nothing 
 better than any of the rough bodies which surround us. Kant 
 proposes to substitute for this distinction the following : duties 
 of man toward himself as an animal (that is, united to ani- 
 mality by the corporeal functions), and the duties of man to- 
 ward himself as a moral being. 
 
 Considered as an animal, man is united to a body, and this 
 union of soul and body is what is called life. Hence a first 
 duty which may be conbidered a fundamental duty, and the 
 basis of all the others, namely, the duty of self-preservation. 
 It is, in fact, obvious that the fulfillment of all our other duties 
 rests on this prior one. 
 
 Before being a duty, self-preservation is for man an instinct, 
 and even so energetic and so universal an instinct that there 
 would seem to be very little need to transform it into duty : so 
 much so is it an instinct that man has rather to combat in 
 himself the cowardly tendency which attaches him to life, 
 than that which induces him to seek death. Yet does it 
 happen, and unfortunately too often, that men, crazed by 
 despair, come to believe that they have a right to free them- 
 selves of life : this is what is called suicide. It is, therefore, 
 very important in morals to combat this fatal idea, and to 
 teach men that, even though life ceases to be a pleasure, there 
 is still a moral obligation which they cannot escape. 
 
 133. Suicide. — J. J. Rousseau and Kant. — The question 
 of suicide was treated with great ability by J. J. Rousseau in 
 one of his most celebrated Avorks. He put into the mouth of 
 two personages, on the one side, the apology for, and on the 
 other, the condemnation of suicide. We will not cite here 
 these two pieces, the eloquence of which is somewhat de- 
 clamatory, but we will give an abstract of the principal 
 arguments presented on each side in favor of its own posi- 
 tion.
 
 22G ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 Arguments in favor of suicide. — 1. It is said that life is 
 not our own because it was given us. — Not so, for, just 
 because it was given vis, is it our own. God has given us 
 arms, and yet we allow them to be cut off when necessary. 
 
 2. Man, it is said, is a soldier on sentry on earth : he should 
 not leave his post without orders. — So be it ; but misfortune 
 is precisely that order which informs me that I have nothing 
 more to do here below. 
 
 3. Suicide, it is said again, is rebellion against Providence. 
 — But how 1 it is not to escape its laws one puts an end to 
 one's life ; it is to execute them the better : in whatever 
 place the soul may be, it will always be vmder God's govern- 
 ment. 
 
 4. "If thy slave attempted to kill himself," says Socrates to 
 Cebes in the Phcedo, " wouldst thou not punish him for trying 
 unjustly to deprive thee of thy property ?" — Good Socrates, 
 what sayest thou ? Does one no longer belong to God Avhen 
 dead ? Thou art quite wrong ; thou shouldst have said : "If 
 thou puttest on thy slave a garment which is in his way in the 
 service he owes thee, wouldst thou punish him for laying tliis 
 garment aside in order the better to serve thee ? " 
 
 5. It is said that life is never an evil. — Yet has nature 
 implanted in us so great a horror of death that life to certain 
 beings must surely be an evil, since they resolve to renounce it. 
 
 6. It is said that suicide is a cowardice. — How many cow- 
 ards, then, among the ancients ! Arria, Eponina, Lucretia, Bru- 
 tus, Cato ! Certainly there is courage in suffering the evils 
 one cannot avoid ; but it were insanity to suffer voluntarily 
 those from which one can free himself. 
 
 7. There are unquestionably duties that should attach us to 
 life. — But he who is a burden to every one, and of no use to 
 himself, why should he not have a right to quit a place 
 where his complaints are importunate and his sufferings use- 
 less? 
 
 8. "Why should it be allowable to get cured of the gout and 
 not of life 1 If we consider tlie will of God, what evil is there
 
 DUTIES TOWAKD ONE'S SELF. 227 
 
 for us to combat, that lie has not himself- sent us? Are we 
 not permitted, then, to change the nature of any thing because 
 all that is, is as he wished it ] 
 
 9. " Thou shall not kill," says the Decalogue. — But if this 
 commandment is to be taken literally, one should kill neither 
 criminals nor enemies. 
 
 Next comes the answer of my lord Edward, namely, J. J. 
 Kousseau : 
 
 Argttments against suicide. — 1. If life has no moral end, one 
 can unquestionably free one's self from it when it is too pain- 
 ful: if it has one, it is not permitted to set it arbitrary limits. 
 
 2. The wish to die does not constitute a right to die ; other- 
 wise, a similar wish mighty ustify all crimes. 
 
 3. Thou sayest : Life is an evil ; but if thou hast the cour- 
 age to bear it, thou wilt some day say : Life is a good. 
 
 4. Physical pain may in extreme cases deprive one of the 
 use of reason and will ; but moral pain should be borne bravely. 
 
 5. No man is wholly useless ; he has always some duties 
 to fulfill. 
 
 It has been justly observed, we think, that this second 
 letter is feebler than the first, and that Rousseau displayotl 
 more talent in justifying suicide than in combating it ; at any 
 rate, the following peroration will always be considered an 
 admirable passage to quote : 
 
 " Listen to me, thou foolish youth : thou art dear to me, I 
 pity thy eiTors. If thou hast at the bottom of thy heart the 
 least feeling of virtue left, come to me, let me teach thee to 
 love life. Every time thou shalt be tempted to put an end to 
 it, say to thyself : ' Let me do one more good deed before I 
 die ! ' Then go and seek some poverty to relieve, some mis- 
 fortune to console, some oppressed wretch to protect. If this 
 contemplation does not stop thee to-day, it will stop thee to- 
 morrow, or the day after, or perhaps for the rest of thy life. 
 If it does not stop thee, go then and die ; for thou art not 
 worthy to live." 
 
 Suicide may be considered from three different standpoints.
 
 228 ELEMENTS OF MOllALS. 
 
 which arc all three involved and blended in the preceding 
 discussion : 
 
 1. Suicide is a transgression of our duty toward other men 
 (inasmuch as, however miserable, one can always render 
 some service to others). 
 
 2. Suicide is contrary to our duties toward God (inas- 
 much as man abandons thereby, without being relieved of it, 
 the post intrusted to him in this Avorld). 
 
 3. Finally — and this is for us here the essential point — sui- 
 cide is a violation of the duty of man toward himself ; as, all 
 other considerations set aside, he is boimd to self-preservation 
 as a moral personality, and has no right whatsoever upon him- 
 self. 
 
 Kanfs discussion. — Kant is, of all philosophers, the one 
 who most insisted on this latter view of the matter, and devel- 
 oped it with the greatest force. 
 
 "It seems absurd," he says, "that man could do himself injury." 
 (Volenti lion fit injuria.*) Thus did the stoic regard it as a prerogative 
 of the sage, to be able, quietly and of his o\ra free will, to step out of 
 this life as he would out of a room full of smoke. But this very cour- 
 age, this strength of soul which enables us to brave death, revealing to 
 us a something man prizes more than life, should have been to him [the 
 stoic] all the greater incentive not to destroy in himself a being 
 endowed with a faculty so great, so superior to all the most powerful of 
 sensuous motives, and consequently not to deprive himself of life. 
 
 Man cannot abdicate his personality as long as there are duties for 
 him, consequently as long as he lives ; and there is contradiction in 
 granting him the right of freeing himself from all obligation — that is to 
 say, acting as freely as if he had no need of any kind of permission. To 
 annihilate in one's own person the subject of morality, is to extirpate 
 from the world as much as possible the existence of morality itself ; it 
 is disposing of one's self as of an instrument, for a simply arbitrary end ; 
 it is lowering humanity in one's own person. 
 
 134. Resum6 of the discussion on suicide. — From the 
 above point of view the sophisms of Saint-Preux in J. J. 
 Eousseau are easily controverted. I can cut my arm off, you 
 say ; Avhy can I not destroy my body 1 — But in destroying a 
 
 ♦ There is no injustice done to him who consents to it.
 
 I 
 
 DUTIES TOWAKD ONE'S SELF. 229 
 
 withered or mortified arm, I nowise injure the himian person- 
 ality, which remains within me entire; and, on the contrary, 
 I deliver the moral personality within me of a physical trouble 
 which deprives it of its liberty. 
 
 I can, you say, avoid pain: no one is obliged to bear 
 a toothache, if he can free himself from it. — Yes, unquestion- 
 ably ; but in finding a remedy for physical pain, instead of 
 wronging the moral personality of man, I free it, on the con- 
 trary, of the evils which, in crushing it, tend to debase it. 
 Besides, there are, moreover, pains from which it is not right to 
 free one's self. For example, it is not right to leave the sick- 
 bed of one dear to us because his pains are unbearable. 
 
 But life is full of misery, and, in certain cases, the evil is 
 without any compensation. — The question is not whether life 
 is agreeable or painful : it might be a question, if pleasure 
 were the end of life ; but if this end is duty, there are no cir- 
 cumstances, however painful, Avhich do not leave room for the 
 possibility of fulfilling a duty. 
 
 It is a sophism, they say, to call suicide a cowardice ; for it 
 requires a great deal of courage to take one's life. — !N^o one 
 denies that there is a certain amount of physical courage 
 coupled with taking one's life ; but there is a still greater 
 courage, a moral courage, in braving pain, poverty, slavery. 
 Suicide is therefore a relative cowardice. It matters not, 
 moreover, whether suicide be a brave or a cowardly act; what 
 is certain is, that man cannot destroy within himself the agent 
 subject to the law of duty without implicitly denying tliis law 
 and all there is witliin contained. 
 
 Finally, it will be said that the moral personality is distinct 
 from the body, and that in destroying the body, one does not 
 injure the personality. But we shall answer, that the only 
 personaUty of which Ave can dispose, and of which we have 
 the care, is that which is actually united to our physical body. 
 It is that very personality that has duties to perform ; it is 
 that which we cannot sacrifice to a state of things absolutely 
 unknow:i to us.
 
 230 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 As to our duties toward others, there is no one that has 
 absohitely no service to render to liis fellow-men; and eacli of 
 us is always able to render them the greatest of services, 
 namely, to give them the example of virtue, coui^ge, gentle- 
 ness, and patience. Finally, in respect to God, if we look 
 upon life as a trial, man has no right to free himself of this 
 trial before it is ended ; if we look upon it as a punishment, 
 we have no right to cut short its duration as long as nature 
 has not pronounced on it. Can we not, then, it is asked, 
 change any thing in the order of things, since all is disposed 
 by God 1 — Certainly we can ; we can, as we see fit, modify 
 things, but not persons. 
 
 God, it is said again, has given us life: we can, then, do 
 with it what we like. — But life is not purely a gift, an abso- 
 lute gift : it is bound up in the moral personality which is not 
 in our power, and which is not to be considered a thing to 
 traffic with, give away, or destroy. 
 
 To admit the legitimacy of suicide, is to atlmit that man be- 
 longs to himself as a thing belongs to its master; it is implic- 
 itly to admit the right to traffic with one's own personality 
 and, according to Kant's energetic expression, " to treat one's 
 self as a means and not as an end." 
 
 135. Suicide from a sense of honor. — All suicide, having 
 
 for its motive the escape from pain (exception being made, of 
 course, of suicides caused by insanity), should be condemned 
 Avithout qualification. But is it the same Avith suicides insti- 
 gated by a feeling of honor, either to avoid an outrage one is 
 threatened with, or to escape the shame of an outrage one has 
 suffered ? 
 
 We should certainly not blame too severely acts that have 
 their source in purity and greatness of soul, and in such mat- 
 ters it is yet better to forgive the excess, than accustom one's 
 mind, by too cold reasoning, to look upon dishonor with 
 patience or complacency. After all, the love of life speaks 
 enough for itself without its being necessarj'' to give it too 
 much encouragement. Nevertheless, to consider the matter
 
 DUTIES TOWAKD ONE'S SELF. 231 
 
 closely, it is certain that no one is responsible for acts he has 
 not consented to ; that, consequently, an act imposed on us by 
 force, cannot inflict real dishonor ; that ill-natured interpreta- 
 tions should have no weight •with a strong mind, and that con- 
 science is the only judge. 
 
 " We should," says St. Augustin, speaking of Lucretia's 
 suicide, " resist the temptation of suicide when we have no 
 crime to atone for. . . . Why should a man who has done no 
 harm to another, do some to himself ? Is he justified in kill- 
 ing an innocent man in his own person, to prevent the real 
 criminal from perpetrating his design, and would he crim- 
 inally cut short his own life for fear it be cut short by 
 another ? " * 
 
 With still greater reason will suicide be condemned in cases 
 where shame, if there is any, can make reparation. Let us, 
 for example, suppose the case of a merchant obliged to suspend 
 payments. This suspension may be caused by overwhelming 
 circumstances, as, for example, unforeseen physical catastrophes, 
 or negligence, imprudence, or even dishonesty on the part of 
 the merchant. In the first case, the merchant is obviously 
 innocent,! and, as we have already remarked, it is an outward 
 and not a real shame. Instead of giving way before a misfor- 
 tune, he should, on the contrary, strive against it and find in 
 himself the means to repair the damage. If, on the contrary, 
 it is through his own fault, through dissipation, laziness, etc., 
 that the trouble was brought about, he is all the more obliged 
 to make honorable amends, and by his courage and energy 
 rehabilitate himself. If, finally, the evil is still graver, if he 
 failed through lack of honor, he owes it to himself to expiate 
 
 * St. Augustin, CiWde Dim, I., xvii., trad. d'Ein. Saisset. 
 
 t One will say, perhaps, that the merchant is never innocent, for he should have 
 foreseen the risks which threatened him, and provided against them. But there is 
 no commerce without risks. There is, then, a certain amount of risks which it is 
 allowed and even necessary to run, or else suppress commerce altogether. For ex- 
 ample, a merchant in times of peace certainly knows that there may suddenly arise 
 a cause of war, and he must make provision against the eventuality ; but if all his 
 transactions were influenced by that idea, commerce in times of peace would not 
 differ from commerce in times of war, and would consequently be null.
 
 23.3 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 his fault, for in trying by suicide to escape a merited shame, 
 lie only eschews a well-deserved punishment. 
 
 Modern conscience refuses even to admire Avithout reserve, 
 the noblest and most generous of suicides, those, namely 
 occasioned by the giief over a great cause lost : I mean Cato's 
 suicide. The capital error of this kind of suicides (laying 
 aside the reasons already pointed out), is to think that a cause 
 can be lost. On the one hand, there is never any reason strong 
 enough to persuade any one that what is lost to-day, is defini- 
 tively lost ; and if each of those who belong to that cause 
 should kill himself, he would only contribute his share toward 
 the loss of that cause. Besides, even supposing a cause to be 
 definitively and absolutely lost, the honor of humanity re- 
 quires none the less that the cause be faithfully and inviolably 
 represented to the end by its adherents : for if they do not 
 serve thereby their own cause, they serve at least that of lo}'. 
 alty, fidelity, and honor, which is the highest of all. Certainly 
 an act as impressive as Avas Cato's, shows how far man can 
 carry the devotion to a creed, and such heroism elevates the 
 soul : thus may we admire it as an individual act, but not as 
 an example to be followed. For, although it presents itself 
 to us under a heroic form, it is, after all, notliing but an 
 escape from responsibility. 
 
 136. Suicide and sacrifice. — One should not confound 
 with suicide, the voluntary death — that is to say, the death 
 dared and even sought after for the sake of humanity, the 
 family, country, truth. For instance, Eustache de Saint 
 Pierre and his companions, Curtius, d'Assas, voluntarily sought 
 or accepted death when they could have avoided it. Are 
 these suicides? If we carried the matter as far as that, all 
 devotion would have to be suppressed altogether. For the 
 height of devotion is to brave death ; and one would have to 
 condemn even the man who exposes himself to a simple peril, 
 since lu; lias no assurance that this peril may not lead him to 
 death. Jkit it is evident that the suicide deserving condemna- 
 tion is that which has for its source either selfishness, or fear,
 
 DUTIES TOWARD O^JE's SELF. 233 
 
 or a false sense of honor. To carry the subject further would 
 be sacrificing other more important duties, and giving to self- 
 ishness itself the appearance and prestige of virtue. 
 
 137. Mutilations and mortifications. — Care of one's 
 health. — One of the obvious consequences of the duty of self- 
 preservation, is to avoid volimtary mutilations. For example, 
 those who mutilate themselves to escape military service, fail 
 lirst in their duty to their country, and next in their duty to 
 themselves. For, the body being the instrument of the soul, 
 it is forbidden to destroy any part of it without necessity. 
 This is partial suicide. 
 
 Must we count among the number of voluntary mutilations, 
 the religious mortifications or macerations by which the devout 
 manifest their piety 1 If it can be proved that such practices 
 are injurious to health, it is certain that they should be con- 
 demned from a moral point of view. But if they are nothing 
 more than self-imposed privations of pleasure, no one can disap- 
 prove of them. For man is always permitted to give up this 
 or that pleasure. Thus abstention from animal-flesh wliich the 
 school of Pythagoras taught its adepts, can not be considered 
 contrary to the duty of self-preservation, as long as it cannot 
 be demonstrated that this diet is imfavorable to health. 
 
 Besides, this duty not to injure one's health, must itself be 
 understood in a large and general sense. Otherwise, taken too 
 strictly, it would become a narrow and selfish preoccupation, 
 unworthy of man. One should select and regularly observe 
 such diet as, from general or personal experience, would seem 
 most suitable to the preservation of health ; but, tliis principle 
 once established, precautions too minute and circumspect 
 lower man in the estimation of others, and, if nothing more, give 
 him a tinge of the ridicidous, Avhich he ought to avoid. One 
 should therefore not take as a model the Italian Comaro, who 
 had a pair of scule.s at his meals to weigh his food and drink, 
 although this method, it is said, prolonged his life to a hun- 
 dred years. The learned Kant himself, although he was very 
 high-minded, carried the rules he had laid down for his health
 
 234 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 to extravagant niiimteness. For example, in order to spare 
 his chest, he had made it a rule, never to breathe through liis 
 mouth when in the street, and, to faithfully observe this rule, 
 he always walked alone, so as not to be obHged to speak. 
 Care carried to such minute details falls into a sort of little- 
 ness very \inbecoming a being destined for higher thoughts 
 than mere physical self-preservation. One may say of such ex- 
 aggerated prudence what Rousseau, though most inappropri- 
 ately, said of medicine: "It prevents illness less than it in- 
 spires us with the fear of it ; it does not so much ward off 
 death as it gives us beforehand a taste of it ; it wears life out 
 instead of prolonging it ; and even if it did prolong it, it 
 would still be to the prejudice of the race, since it takes us 
 away from society by the cares it lays upon us, and from our 
 duties by the fear it inspires us Avith." * 
 
 But, if too minute attention to health is not to be recom- 
 mended, one cannot be too observant, within a reasonable 
 measure, of course, of the obligation to follow a sensible and 
 moderate diet, which is as favorable to the mind as it is to 
 the body. Hygiene, in this respect, forms no inconsiderable 
 part of morals. 
 
 To avoid sitting up late ; to avoid too long or too rich 
 repasts ; to make an even distribution of one's time ; to get up 
 early ; to dress moderately Avarm : are measures recommended 
 by prudence ; this, however, does not exclude the liberty of 
 doing away with these rules when more important ones are 
 necessary. The principle consists in not granting the body 
 too much, Avhich is the best means of strengthening it. 
 
 The ancients attached a vast importance to the strength and 
 beauty of the body ; and for this reason they encouraged gym- 
 nastics ; these were an essential part of their education. This 
 taste for physical exercise seems to be reviving at the present 
 day ; it enters more and more into our public education, and 
 its good results are already felt. Men should, as much as pos- 
 sible, reserve some time and leisure for such exercises ; for 
 
 * Rousseau's Emile, I., i.
 
 DUTIES TOWARD ONE'S SELF. 235 
 
 tliey not only impart strength, health, and skill to the body, 
 hut they accustom the soul to courage, preparing it by degrees 
 to encounter more serious perils ; the same may be said of 
 military exercises. 
 
 138. Cleanliness. — Among the virtues belonging to the 
 duty of self-preservation, there is one which a philosopher of 
 the XVIII. century considered the first and the mother of all 
 the others, namely, cleanliness. This is saying much ; and it 
 may be thought that Volney, in his moral catechism, exag- 
 gerated somewhat tliis virtue. It is, however, one of very 
 great importance, for its opposite is especially repugnant. 
 Cleanliness, moreover, in addition to the part it plays, as we 
 know, in the preservation of health, is often indicative of 
 other \Trtue3 of a higher order. Cleanliness presupposes 
 order, a certain delicacy of habits, a certain dignity ; it is 
 really the first condition of civilization ; wherever we meet 
 with it, it announces that higher wants than those of mere 
 animality have been or are soon to be felt ; wherever it is 
 wanting, we may be certain that civilization is only apparent, 
 and that it has j'et many deficiencies to supply. 
 
 139. Other duties in regard to the body. — Temper- 
 ance. — -We have just seen that man has no right to destroy his 
 body, or mutilate it, or, in short, uselessly to reduce or enfee- 
 ble its power ; in a word, he must not voluntarily injure his 
 physical functions : for, in impairing himself as a physical 
 being, he thereby injures his personality, which is the prin- 
 ciple of all morality. But there are two things to be distin- 
 guished in the functions of the human body : on one side, 
 their utility, and on the other, the pleasure which attends 
 their healthful exercise. The same function may be exercised 
 with more or less pleasure on the side of the senses. Hence 
 a moral problem : Wliat is to be granted to the pleasures of 
 the senses ? — Certainly for the proper exercise of their func- 
 tions a certain sensuous agreeableness is necessary ; a good 
 appetite, for instance, is a pleasant seasoning which excites 
 and facilitates digestion. Nevertheless, we all know that
 
 236 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 there is not an exact and continued proportion between tlia 
 pleasure of the senses and physiological necessity ; Ave know 
 that enjoyment may by far exceed necessity, and that health 
 even often requires a certain limitation in enjoyment. 
 
 We know, for example, that the pleasures of the palate may 
 be far more sought after and prolonged than is necessary for 
 the gratification of the appetite. Man needs very little to 
 live on ; but he can continue to tickle his palate long after his 
 hunger is satisfied. Thirst, in particular, has given rise to a 
 multitude of refinements invented by human industry, and 
 Avliich are but very distantly related to the principle which 
 has given them birth. Wine and alcoholic drinks, which, 
 used in moderation, may be useful tonics, are stimulants de- 
 manding a constant renewal : the more they are indulged in, 
 the more they provoke and captivate the imagination. 
 
 From this disproportion and incongruity which exist be- 
 tween the pleasures of the senses and the real wants of the 
 body, arise vices, certain habits, namely, which sacrifice Avant 
 to pleasure, and the consequence of Avhich is the depravation 
 and ruin of the natural functions. Pleasure, in fact, is, in a 
 certain measure, the auxiliary, and in some sort, the inter- 
 preter of nature ; but beyond a certain limit, it can only 
 satiate itself at the expcTise of the legitimate function, and by 
 solidarity, at the expense of all the others. Thus too much 
 eating destroys the digestive functions ; stimulating drinks 
 burn the stomach and seriously injure the nervous systeui. 
 The same, and Avith still graver consequences, attends upon 
 the pleasures attached to the function of reproduction. 
 
 "Who woulil," says Eossuet, " dare tliink of other excesses which 
 reveal tliemselves in a still more dangerous manner? Who, I say, 
 would dare speak of them, or dare think of them, since they cannot be 
 si)oken of without shame nor thought of without peril, though it be but 
 to condemn them ? God, once more, wlio wouKl dare speak of this 
 deep and shameful plague of nature, this concupiscence which binds the 
 soul to the body with bonds so tender and so violent — bonds man can 
 scarcely defend himself against, and Avhich cause such frightful disorders
 
 DUTIES TOWARD ONE'S SELF. 237 
 
 among the human race! Woe to the earth ! woe to the earth, from whose 
 secret passions rise continually vapors so thick and black, concealing 
 from us both sky and light, but of which we ai'e reminded through the 
 lightnings and thunder-bolts they send forth against the corruption of 
 the human race ! " * 
 
 The abuse of the pleasures of the senses is in general calleJ 
 intemjyerance, and the proper use of these pleasures, temi^erance. 
 Gormandizing is the abuse of the pleasures of eating ; intoxi- 
 cation or drunkenness, the abuse of the pleasures of drinking ; 
 immodesty or lust, the abuse of the pleasures attached to the 
 reproduction of the species. The opposites of these tln-ee 
 vices are, to the firot two, sobriety, to the last, chastity. 
 
 The duty of temperance is enforced by two considerations : 
 
 1, intemperance being, as experience shows, the ruination of 
 health, is thereby contrary to tlie duty of self-preservation ; 
 
 2, intemperance destroying the intellectual faculties, and 
 making us unfit for any energetic and manly action, is con- 
 trary to the duty imposed on us to respect our moral faculties 
 and protect against all injiiry Avithin us tlie free personality 
 which constitutes the essence of liumanity. 
 
 Kant does not admit tliat the first of these considerations — 
 that, namely, which is deduced from the interest of our health — 
 has any validity in morals : " Yice," he says, " should not be 
 judged from the damage it does to man, for to resist it would 
 then be resisting it for reasons oi comfort and commodity, 
 Avhich could never be a principle to found a duty on, but only 
 a measure of prudence." This is true; but if we have in the 
 foregoing pages established that self-preservation is one of 
 man's duties, that he should not destroy his health or abridge 
 his life, an evident corollary of this principle is to avoid in- 
 temperance, because intemperance abridges life. This con- 
 sideration is then as legitimate from the standpoint of morality 
 as from that of interest. 
 
 The ancients have spoken admirably about temperance. 
 Socrates in particular, in Xeuophon's Memorabilia, showed 
 
 * Bossuet, Tralti dc la conci(2>isccncc, Ch. iv.
 
 238 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 clearly that temperance makes of man a free man, and in- 
 temperance, a brute and a slave. 
 
 "Tell me, Eutydemus, thinkest thou not that liberty is a precious 
 and honorable thing for an individual and for a State ? — It is the most 
 precious of all. — Thinkest thou him then who allows himself to be over- 
 ruled by the pleasures of the body, and thereby disabled from doing 
 good, a free man ? — Not the least. — Perhaps callest thou liberty the 
 power to do good, and servitude the being prevented from it by obsta- 
 cles. — Precisely. — The intemperate then appear to thee as slaves? — Yes, 
 by Jupiter, and rightly so. — What thinkest thou of masters who hin- 
 der the doing good, and oblige one to do wrong. — It is, by Jupiter, the 
 worst possible kind. — And which is the woret of servitudes ? — To my 
 mind that which subjects us to the worst masters. — Then is intemper- 
 ance the worst of servitudes ? — So I think." 
 
 Plato, on liis side, in a charming picture brings out "svith 
 force the insatiableness of sensual passions : 
 
 "See," says Socrates," "if the temperate man and the disorderlj' man 
 are not like two men having each a large number of casks : the casks of 
 the one are in good condition and full, one with wine, another with 
 honey, a third M'itli milk, and others with otlicr liquors ; these liquors, 
 moreover, are rare and hard to get ; they cost infinite trouble to obtain ; 
 their owner having once filled his barrels, pours henceforth nothing 
 more into them ; he has no longer any anxiety concerning them, and is 
 perfectly at ease. The other can, it is true, procure the same liquors, 
 but only with difficulty ; his casks, moreover, being leaky and rotten, 
 he is obliged to fill them constantly, day and night, lest he be de- 
 voured by burning pains. This picture being an image of both lives, 
 canst thou say that that of the libertine is happier than that of the 
 temperate man ? " 
 
 A. second consideration which may Ije added to the pre- 
 ceding one is, that the intemperate man, seeking pleasure, 
 does not find it ; pleasure passionately pursued changes even 
 into pain : " Intemperance," says Montaigne, " is the pest of 
 voluptuousness, whilst temperance is its seasoning. This view 
 of the matter is especially that in which the epicurean moral- 
 ists delight ; they always, in morals, compare one pleasure 
 with another ; but it also holds good for those who place duty 
 above pleasure, for it is likewise a duty to prefer a pure, simple,
 
 DUTIES TOWARD ONE'S SELF, 239 
 
 delicate pleasure, to a violent, disorderly, or vulgar pleasure. 
 From this standpoint, we may say with Plato, in his Philebus, 
 that the purest pleasures are not the strongest, and even that 
 the stronger and more ardent a pleasure may be, the nearer it 
 approaches a change into pain. Now, all other duty set aside, 
 one should principally seek the pleasures which are not mixed 
 Avith pain, because they are the most natural and the most le- 
 gitimate of all : thus is it that the pleasure we derive from a 
 satisfied appetite is a proper pleasure, however humble it be, 
 Avhilst the pleasure which carries with it satiety and disgust, 
 indicates by that very fact, that it is against nature, or at least 
 goes beyond nature. Virtue rec^uires, then, that we prefer the 
 first to the second. 
 
 140. The pleasures of the senses. — T>ut provided one is 
 content with moderate pleasures, is it allowed to enjoy the 
 pleasures of the senses, or must we rather turn our mind, will, 
 and soul, from them, and rest content with the satisfied want 1 
 Montaigne, that naive child of nature, supports the first propo- 
 sition; Saint Augustine, the apostle of free grace, advocates the 
 second. "Nature," says Montaigne, "has maternally provided 
 that the actions she enjoins upon us*for the satisfaction of our 
 wants be also pleasurable, and she invites us thereto not only 
 through reason, but also by the appetite : it is not right to 
 corrupt her rules." Not only did Montaigne authorize the 
 pleasure of the senses, but he also favored one's delighting in 
 it: 
 
 "It should be fitly studied, enjoj^ed, dwelt upon, to show ourselves 
 worthily thankful to hiia who dispenses it. . . . To that degree, did I 
 myself follow this precept that in order that the pleasure of sleeping 
 should not stupidly escape me, I found it well in former days, to have 
 myself disturbed in my sleep, that I might catch the feeling of it. . . . 
 Is there any gratification of the senses ? I do not allow them to have it 
 all to themselves ; I associate my soul with it, not to lose itself in it, but 
 to find itself in it. . . It estimates, thereby, how much it owes God for 
 putting the body at its own disposal, allowing it to enjoy in order and 
 completeness the soft and agreeable functions whereby it pleased him to 
 compensate us by his mercy for the pains his justice inflicts on us in its 
 turn."
 
 240 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 St. Au£,nistine looks at the thins from an entirely different 
 standpoint : 
 
 "Thou hast taught me, my God," he says, "to look upon food as 
 upon a remedy. But when I pass from the suffering of hi;nger to the re- 
 pose of satiety, even in tliis passage from the one to the other does con- 
 cupiscence lay its snares for me ; for this passage is a pleasure, and 
 there is no other means to reacli the end which by necessit}' we must 
 reach. And although real hunger and tliirst — eating ami drinking be 
 but a matter of health, yet does pleasure join itself thereto as a dan- 
 gerous companion, and sometimes it even takes the lead and induces me 
 to do from a sense of pleasure, what I only wish to do for my health, 
 AMiat is enough for health, is not enough for pleasure, and it is often 
 difficult to decide whether it is the wants of the body that require to 
 be met, or the deceiving voluptuousness of concupiscence which subju- 
 gates us. In this incertitude our miserable soul rejoices because she 
 finds therein a defense and an excuse, and, not knowing what is sufficient 
 for the maintenance of health, she places the interests of voluptuous- 
 ness under the shadow of this pretext. Every day I endeavor to resist 
 its temptations and invoke thy hand to save me, and I lay at thy 
 feet my incertitudes, because, alas ! my resolution is not yet strong 
 enough. " 
 
 It will be seen that the two moralists xise both the same 
 principle (namely, tlie will of Providence) to arrive at entirely 
 different conclusions. According to one, pleasure was insti- 
 tuted by God only as a means to arrive at tlie satisfaction of 
 bodily Avants. It is, then, this satisfaction alone we should 
 have in view. According to the other, God allowing necessity 
 to be accompanied by pleasure, invites us thereby to enjoy 
 pleasure. It seems to us that the two moralists fall here into 
 an excess : for, according to us, we should not too much dis- 
 trust pleasure nor delight in it too mucli : pleasure, not being 
 an evil in itself, there is ]io reason why we shoidd reproach 
 ourselves for enjoying it: for it is as essential to the nature 
 of our being as life itself. "We may even say that pleasure is 
 already a superior degree of existence, and it is for tliis reason 
 tliat the animal is found to be superior to the plant. The 
 scruples of St. Augustine in regard to pleasure are, therefore, 
 exaggerated. On the other hand, I do ]iot approve of Mon-
 
 DUTIES TOWA.ED OXE'S SELF. 241 
 
 taigne's refinement either ; it is not proper to bring the reflect- 
 ive faculties to bear upon sensual pleasures in order to en- 
 hance them : to have one's self waked np in order to take 
 cognizance of the sweetness of sleep is an unjustifiable refine- 
 ment of sensuality unless one admits pleasure to be the end of 
 life. In one Avord, it is necessary here to avoid at the same 
 time exaggerated scruples and self-gratification, as occupying 
 the mind more than is necessary with what has but a very in- 
 ferior value.* 
 
 Providence, besides, has furnished us means to enhance the 
 pleasures of the senses by mingling with them the pleasures of 
 the mind or heart. "Banquets," says Kant, "have, besides 
 the physical pleasure they procure us, something that tends to 
 a moral end, namely, to bring together a certain number of 
 people, and to maintain among them an extended interchange 
 of kindly feelings." 
 
 And this austere moralist does not hesitate to lay down 
 certain rules which should preside over refined festivities. 
 ^Ve shall be pardoned if we reproduce here some of his witty 
 remarks on that subject. " The good cheer," he says, " whicli 
 best accords with humanity, is a good repast in good company ; 
 a company which Chesterfield says shoidd not fall below the 
 number of the Graces, nor exceed that of the ISIuses. ... On 
 the contrary, large assemblages and festivities are altogether 
 in bad taste. ... To eat alone is unwholesome for a philo- 
 sophic scholar : it is no restoration, it is rather exhaustion ; it is 
 a labor, and not a play revivifying thought. The man who 
 eats alone loses gradually his cheerfulness ; he recovers it, on 
 the contrary, when the intermittent jests of a guest give him 
 a ncAV subject of animation which, alone, he would not have 
 been able to discover." Kant furtlier requires, "that the re- 
 past should end with laughter, which, if it is loud and hearty, 
 
 * We may apply here what La Bniyere said of clothes : " There is as much weak- 
 ness in avoiding fashion as affecting it. A philosopher allows his tailor to dress him." 
 In the same sense is there as much weakness in rebelling against pleasure as iu 
 seeking it too artfully. Tlie honest man simply enjoys it without thinking of it. 
 Between the rigorist and the sensualist, the sensible man has his place.
 
 242 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 is a sort of compliment to nature." Then, after having given 
 rules for table-talk, he concludes by saying : " However insig- 
 nificant these laws of polite society may appear, especially when 
 compared to morality properly so called, they are, neverthe- 
 less, a garment which becomes virtue, and which may be rec- 
 ommended in all seriousness. In fact, thanks to these laws, 
 sensual pleasures are ennobled and increased by mixing with 
 them intellectual pleasures. It is the same with those other 
 pleasures related to the purest and noblest sentiments of the 
 heart, and which, thanks to this alliance, may be reconciled 
 with perfect chastity. 
 
 141. The exterior bearing. — Propriety. — Decorum. — 
 Temperance should not be confined to the inner man ; it should 
 manifest itself outwardly through acts, words, through proper 
 bearing and attitudes : this is what is called decency ; the 
 principal part of which is modesty. 
 
 " We must not," says Cicero, "mind the cynics and certain stoics 
 who turn us into ridicule and reproach us for being ashamed to speak of 
 things that have nothing shameful in themselves. As for us, let us fol- 
 low nature, and abstain from all that might wound the eyes or ears. 
 Let our bearing, gait, our looks, gestures, be always true todjpcency, . . 
 There are two things to be avoided : soft and effeminate airs, and a 
 boorish and uncouth appearance." * , 
 
 The ancients justly attached great importance to the out- 
 ward appearance and countenance ; they regarded it as the 
 sign of the freeman. 
 
 "There are," says Cicero, " two kinds of beauty : the one, grace ; the 
 other, dignity. Grace belongs to woman, dignity to man. We should, 
 therefore, interdict ourselves all that could belie that dignity, either in 
 dress, bearing, or gesture. There are movements among our wrestlers 
 which are sometimes displeasing, and certain gestures of our comedians 
 which are somewhat ridiculous ; they would both recommend themselves 
 to the public better by simplicity and decency. One should be neither 
 uncouth nor over-refined ; in regard to dress, the most modest is the 
 best. Avoid, likewise, in your gait, either that excessive slowness (re- 
 
 • Ciceron, Traiti des devoirs, I., xxxiv.
 
 DUTIES TOWARD ONE'S SELF. 243 
 
 minding one of the imposing gravity of sacred pomps), or too ranch 
 haste, which is a sure sign of light-headedness and thoughtlessness." * 
 
 These counsels will not appear minute to those who know 
 that the soul is always ready to fall in with the body, and 
 that the inner man sets himself naturally to the outer man. 
 Disorder in manners, dress, words, bring insensibly with them 
 disorder in thought, and the outward dignity is but the re- 
 flection of the dignity of the soul. 
 
 * Cicero, Traite des devoirs, ch. xxxvi.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 )UTIES RELATING TO EXTERNAL GOODS. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 The necessity of external goods.— Two sorts of duties.— 1. Those 
 
 relative to use ; 2. Those relative to acquisittun. 
 Use of external goods. — They are means and not ends: avarice, 
 cupidity, prodigality. 
 
 It is not the degree of riches, it is the spirit in which we seek or 
 possess them, which is the object of a moral rule. 
 Economy, a mean between prodigality and avarice. 
 
 Economy and saving are not only duties of self-preservation, but of 
 duinity. 
 
 Maxims of Franklin. — The prodigal and the miser, according to 
 Aristotle. 
 Acquisition of external things.— Universal law of work. — Servile 
 and/rcc work. — Nobility of work. 
 
 Work is a, pleasure, a necessity, a duty. 
 
 142. Necessity of external goods. — External goods are 
 as necessary to man as is his body : for it is in the first place 
 a fundamental law of beings physically organized, that they 
 only subsist by means of a continual exchange of their com- 
 ponent parts, with foreign substances. Life is a circulation, a 
 vortex : we lose and acquire ; we return to nature what it 
 gave us, and we take from it back again in exchange what 
 we need to repair our losses. There follows from this that 
 certain external things, especially food, are indispensable to 
 our existence, and that it is absolutely necessary that we be in 
 sure possession of them in order to be ourselves sure of life. 
 
 Food is not the oidy need of man. Shelter and clothing, 
 without being as rigorously indispensable (especially in warm
 
 DUTIES RELATING TO EXTERNAL GOODS. 245 
 
 countries), are nevertheless of great utility to maintain a certain 
 equilibrium between the temperature of our bodies and the ex- 
 ternal temperature ; for it is well known that the derangement 
 of this equilibrium is one of the most ordinary causes of illness. 
 Nature not having clothed man as she has the other animals, 
 he is obhged to provide himself with clothes by his industry. 
 As for habitations, several animals know as well as man how 
 to construct them : for example, beavers and rabbits ; and 
 despite the indisputable superiority of his art, this is yet, as 
 we see for man, but the development of an instinct wliich he 
 shares with other creatures. 
 
 These various wants, then, which to be satisfied demand a 
 certain number of material objects, such as food, houses, cloth- 
 ing, etc., carry with them others in their train: for example, 
 the need of locomotion to procure Avhat is wanted : hence, 
 carriages, boats, etc.; — the need of protecting one's self against 
 those who would take from us what Ave possess : hence, arms 
 of every kind ; — the need of repose and order in the house : 
 hence, furniture of every sort ; — in a higher degree agam the 
 need of pleasing the imagmation : hence, works of art, pic- 
 tures, statuary ; — the need of information : hence, books, etc. 
 
 Finally, and independently of all these different things, there 
 are yet two which deserve to be specially noticed, because of 
 their particular and distinctive character. These are, first, 
 land, which is the common and inexhaustible source of all 
 riches, the only thing that does not perish, and which is 
 always found again in the same quantity after as well as 
 before the enjoyment of it ; land, which is as the substance, 
 the very basis of riches ; * and the second, money (gold or 
 silver, with their representative, paper), which is of a nature 
 to be exchanged against all kind of merchandise, even land, 
 and Avhich, consequently, represents them all. These two 
 kinds of things, land and money, the one an essential, the 
 other a condensed image, of all wealth, are the tAvo most 
 
 * We nowise m^an to uplioUl here the doctrine of the physiocrats for whom land 
 was the only riclies ; wo shall merely say that it is the basis of all wealth.
 
 246 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 natural objects of man's desires, because, with the one or the 
 other, he can procure all the rest. 
 
 We have not to examine here how man succeeds in securing 
 to himself the exclusive enjoyment of these several goods : we 
 shall treat the subject of property further on, and shall explain 
 in what, and why, it is inviolable. Let it suffice to say here 
 that these goods being bound up with the very preservation 
 of our existence, the desire and instinct which lead us to 
 appropriate them, have nothing blameworthy in themselves. 
 
 External goods being necessary to life, we have to consider 
 how we should use them when Ave possess them, and how 
 acquire them when we do not possess them. 
 
 143. Duties relating to the use of external goods. — Cu- 
 pidity. — Avarice. — From the very fact that man is a part of 
 nature, it manifestly follows that he is allowed to make his 
 profit of the goods of nature and to turn them to his use. The 
 only question is then to know to what degree and in what 
 spirit, he should love material goods, and what use he is to 
 make of them, not in regard to others, but in regard to him- 
 self. 
 
 A first consideration is that material things or riches have 
 no value in themselves; they are only worth anything as they 
 suit our wants. Gold and silver, in particular, are only a value 
 because they can be exchanged against iiseful things, and 
 these things, again, are only good because they are useful. 
 They are, to employ Kant's favorite formula, means, not ends. 
 Now we precisely overthrow this order when we take material 
 tilings as ends and not as means — that is to say, when we 
 attribute to them an absolute instead of a relative value. This 
 happens when, for example, we seek gain for gain's sake ; 
 when we accumulate riches for the sole pleasure of accumulat- 
 ing them — a vice we call cmpxdity. 
 
 It is, again, what hai)pens when we enjoy wealth for itself, 
 without wisliing to turn it to use, and depriving ourselves of 
 everytliing to enjoy tlie tiling itself, which has no other value 
 except that of buying other things ; a vice we call avarice.
 
 DUTIES RELATING TO EXTERNAL GOODS. 247 
 
 The character of these two vices (a character which is not 
 only contrary to prudence, but also to virtue) is to transform 
 material things into absolute ends. "Avarice," says Kant, 
 very justly, " is not only economy misunderstood, but a servile 
 subjection to the goods of fortune ; an incapacity of exercising 
 mastery over them. ... It is not only opposed to generosity, 
 but to liberality of sentiments in general — that is to say, to the 
 principle of independence which recognizes nothing but the 
 law, and becomes thus a fraud which man commits against 
 himself." Cupidity does not, at first glance, appear to be of 
 so shameful, and especially so ridiculous a character as avarice ; 
 for avarice is a contradiction to one's self (to die rather than 
 lose that which can only serve to prevent us from dying), and 
 viewed in that light it becomes a comical oddity. But the 
 love of gain for gain's sake is, no less than avarice, a servile 
 subjection to the goods of fortune. To earn money is a neces- 
 sity to which we must submit (and of which we need not be 
 ashamed, since it is nature herself that requires it), but it is 
 not, and should not be, an end to the soul. The end of 
 wealth (without failing in the duties we owe to ourselves) 
 should be to make sure of the means of self-preservation, self- 
 cultivation, education — yea, even recreation ; for recreation is a 
 thing much more refined and noble than accumulation of 
 wealth. In one word, according to an old saying, one must 
 possess riches and not be possessed by them. 
 - Such is the sxdrit in which man should seek or possess 
 riches ; and it is for liim a strict duty ; but as to the degree 
 and limits of possession, as to the extent or quantity of riches, 
 morality gives lis neither rules nor principles. There is no 
 particular limit known beyond which a man in making money 
 would become immoral. There is no restriction to his becom- 
 ing a millionaire if he can. A morality that should teach to 
 look upon the rich as culpable, M'ould be a very false one. The 
 contempt for riches, such as the ancient philosophers professed, 
 is a very beautiful thing in itself ; but to make good use of 
 wealth is also very praiseworthy. Wealth, wliich in itself
 
 248 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 lias no value, may have a very great one from the use made 
 of it. There is, therefore, no other rule to be observed here 
 than the one we have already pointed out, namely, that we 
 shoukl not love money for itself, but acquire it or receive it 
 as a means to be useful to ourselves "and to others. Let us 
 add, however, that even with this motive, we should not enter- 
 tain too great a desire for gain ; * for to take too much pleasure 
 in accumulating a fortune,, even to make a good use of it, is 
 again another Avay to become its slave. 
 
 144. Poverty. — The duty of not allowing one's self to be- 
 come morally a slave to external goods, carries with it, as its 
 corollary, the duty of bearing poverty patiently if circum- 
 stances impose it on us. I do not mean here the strength of 
 soul with which we should bear adversity of any kind (we 
 shall speak of that further on), but the resignation with which 
 we should look upon the deprivation of certain things, which 
 have no value in themselves. The poor man should, of course, 
 endeavor to improve his condition by his work, and we are far 
 from recommending to him a stupid insensibility which would 
 dry up the sources of all industry ; but what we should 
 especially guard against is this uneasy discontent and power- 
 less desire which are also a kind of slavery. We should try to 
 be SEttisfied with our lot, as ancient wisdom has it, and if it 
 requires a certain amount of heroism to bear extreme misery, 
 a limited share of wisdom will be sufficient to enable one to 
 accept patiently poverty and mediocrity. 
 
 145. Prodigality. — Maintaining, as we have done, that 
 riches have no value in themselves, except as means to satisfy 
 our wants, do we mean thereby that they are to be spent in- 
 judiciously? — and would not that appear to be condemning 
 saving and economy, virtues which not only morality, but 
 wisdom also, recommends ? Shall we, in order to avoid cupid- 
 ity and avarice, run into dissipation and prodigality 1 
 
 ' Tliprc is here, aj^ain, a broad duty, for how can we interdict to a merchant the 
 desire for gain witliout suppressing one of the incitements to liis activity and work ? 
 All that we can recommend to him is moderation, and not to sacrifice to this incite- 
 ment sentiments of a higher order.
 
 DUTIES RELATINCx TO EXTERNAL GOODS. 219 
 
 Let us first observe that prodigality, which is the opposite 
 of avarice, is not always the opposite of cupidity. The need 
 of spending engenders necessarily the need of obtaining and 
 gaining as much money as possible ; and the prodigal, if he 
 is not so in the beginning, very soon becomes covetous, 
 through the exhaustion of his resources. " Most prodigals," 
 says Aristotle, " become greedy and gi'asping, because they 
 always wish to spend at their will. Their own resources being 
 soon exhausted, they must needs procure others ; and as they 
 scarcely take thought about dignity and honor, they appro- 
 priate without scruple, and as they can." We should, there- 
 fore, not view prodigality as a noble independence in respect 
 to riches. It is so in the beginning, in fact, with young rich 
 people ; but they soon find out the limits of their great for- 
 tunes, and then begins their slavery in respect to those very 
 goods they made at first so light of. 
 
 Prudence and our own interest teach us, of course, suffi- 
 ciently that prodigality is a stupid vice, and that it is absurd to 
 sacrifice the wants of to-morrow to the pleasures of to-day. 
 Simple common-sense advises economy and saving. But for 
 this very reason may we ask, with Kant : " whether they de- 
 serve the name of virtues ; and whether prodigality even, in- 
 asmuch as it tends to an unexpected indigence, should not be 
 called an imprudence rather than a vice 1 " We shall say in 
 reply that self-interest well understood becomes itself a duty 
 when in opposition to passion. For instance, if, on the one 
 side, passion lures me f>n to ])rocure to myself a certain pleas- 
 ure, and that, on the other, self-interest shows that this pleas- 
 ure imperils my health, it is certain that dut)/ in this circum- 
 stance commands me to prefer my health to a momentary 
 pleasure.* Prudence, then, is but the exercise of a more gen- 
 
 * Kant himself recognizes tli.at, sclf-interost may become a duty when combated 
 by passion. "To secure one's own happiness," he says, "is at least an indirect 
 duty ; for he who is dissatisfied with Ids condition may easily, in the midst of the 
 cares and wants which besiege him, yield to the temjitiition of transgressing his du- 
 ties. . . Therefore, even tliough this tendency in man to seek his happiness did not 
 determine his will, even though health were not, for liim at least, a tiling to be taken
 
 250 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 
 
 eral duty, which, if not the basis, is at least the condition of all 
 the others : the duty of self-preservation. 
 
 Economy and saving are not only a duty of self-preserva- 
 tion, but also a duty of dignity: for experience teaches us 
 that poverty and misery bring us into the dependency of 
 others and that want leads to beggary. He who knows how 
 to husband his means of existence, secures for himself in the 
 future not only his livelihood, but also independence; in de- 
 priving himself of fleeting and commonplace pleasures, he 
 buys what is far better, namely, dignity. 
 
 "Be economical," says Franklin, "and independence shall be thy 
 shield and buckler, thy helmet and crown ; then shall thy soul walk 
 upright, nor stoop to the silken wretch because he hath riches ; nor 
 pocket an abuse because the hand which oliers it wears a ring set with 
 diamonds. " 
 
 It is from this point of view that the charming and witty, 
 though sometimes vidgar, precepts of poor Richard may be re- 
 garded as moral maxims, and shoidd have access to all 
 minds : 
 
 " If you would be wealthy, think of saving as well as of 
 getting." 
 
 " A fat kitchen makes a lean will." 
 
 " AMiat maintains one vice would bring up two children." 
 " Many littles make a mickle." ^ 
 
 " I'ools make feasts and wise men eat them. " 
 "It is foolish to lay out money in a purchase of repent- 
 ance." 
 
 " Silks and satins, scarlet and velvets put out the kitchen 
 fire." 
 
 " When the well is dry, they know the worth of water." 
 " I'ride breakfasted Avith Plenty, dined with Poverty, and 
 supped with Infamy."* 
 
 account of in hi.s calculation.s, there wouM still remain in this case, as in all others, 
 a law, the one, namely, which coramamis liini to work for his happiness, not from 
 inclination, but from a sense of duty, anil it is only by this that his conduct may 
 lia\c a rral moral value. 
 
 * Franklin. Poor IiicIiar(Fs Almanac.
 
 DUTITS EELATIXG TO EXTERNAL GOODS. 251 
 
 What Franklin has depicted with greatest force and elo- 
 quence, is the humiliation attached to debts, a sad consequence 
 of the want of economy. There is a kind of pride which is 
 not that of Rome and Sparta, nor of the courts and the great, 
 but which has not the less its prica 
 
 "He that goes a borrowing, goes a sorrowing. Alas! think well 
 what you do when you run in debt ; you give to another power over 
 your liberty. If you cannot pay at the time, you will be ashamed to 
 see your creditor ; you mil be m fear when you speak to him ; you wUl 
 make poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses, and by degrees come to lose your 
 veracit}^, and sink into base, downright lying. For lying riclcs uiwn 
 Debt's back. A free-born man ought not to be afraid to see or speak to 
 any man living. But povert}' often deprives a man of all spirit and 
 virtue. It is hard for an emjjty bag to staiid upright." 
 
 We should then avoid so to subject ourselves to material 
 tilings as not to dare make use of them, which is avarice ; or 
 to spend them foolisldy and thus render ourselves dependent 
 upon men, which is prodigality. Economy lies between the 
 two, and it is one of the virtues upon which Aristotle has 
 most successfully established his theory of the golden mean. 
 Kant, however, does not agree with him on this point. 
 " For," says he, " if economy is a just medium between two 
 extremes, then should we, in going from one vice to the op- 
 posite vice, have to pass through virtue : the latter then 
 would be nothing more than a lesser vice." According to 
 Kant, it is not the measure but the 'princi'ple which may serA'e 
 to distinguish a vice from a virtue : the one is distinguished 
 from the other not quantitatively, but specifically. The two 
 vices, extremes themselves, prodigality and avarice, namely, 
 are opposed to each other, not only in degree, but in kind. 
 What is prodigality ? " It is," says Kant, " to procure means 
 of livelihood with a view to the enjoyment only." What is 
 avarice ? " To acquire and preserve these means in view of 
 possession only, interdicting one's self the enjoyment thereof." 
 These two qualities, it is seen, do not only differ from each 
 other in the more or the less, but in their very nature. There 
 would remain next to ask, what is the quality of economy,
 
 252 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 
 
 and that is just wliat Kant does not tell us. In default of it, 
 it might be formulated thus : " to acquire and preserve the 
 means of livelihood, not for the sake of possession or enjoy- 
 ment, but for present or future need." Only there remains 
 still the difficulty of distinguishing need from enjoyment. 
 Where does legitimate need end ? Where does barren enjoy- 
 ment begin ? It is here that Aristotle's formula asserts itself, 
 and that we must finally come to recognize that the virtue of 
 economy consists in a certain medium between prodigality and 
 avarice. 
 
 Yet whatever it be, we cannot better close this subject than 
 by citing Aristotle's admirable description of the prodigal and 
 the miser : La Bruyere shows no greater aciiteness and force. 
 
 "The prodigal is he who niins himself on his own accord. The 
 senseless squandering of his property is a sort of self-destruction, 
 since one can only live on what one has. Prodigality is the excess of 
 giving, and the want of receiving ; but these two conditions cannot 
 very long keep together ; for it is not easy to give to every one, when 
 one receives from no one. This vice, however, should not appear as 
 blameworthy as tliat of avarice. Age, distress even, may easily enough 
 correct the prodigal and bring him back to a just medium. Thus is the 
 nature of the prodigal on the whole not a bad one ; there is nothing 
 vicious or low in this excessive tendency to give much and take nothing 
 in return ; it is only folly. It is true that prodigals become greedy 
 and grasping. This is also why their gifts are not truly liberal .... 
 why they enrich some people who should be left in poverty, and refuse 
 doing anything for others far more deserving. They give with open 
 hands to flatterers or people who procure them pleasures as unworthy 
 as those of flattery. 
 
 "Avarice is incurable. . . . Avarice is more natural to man thnu 
 ])rodigality ; for most of us prefer keeping what we have than giving it 
 away. ... It consists of two principal elements : defect of giving, 
 excess of receivuig. . . . Some show more excess of receiving, some 
 more defect of giving. Thus do all those branded by the name 
 shabby, stingy, mean, sin through a defect of giving ; yet do they 
 not covet, nor would they take what belongs to others. . . . Other 
 misers, on the contrary, may be known by their grasping propen- 
 sities, taking all they can get : for example, all those who engage in 
 ignoble speculations . . . usurers and all those who lend small sums 
 at large interest. All these people take where they should not take,
 
 DUTIES RELATING TO EXTERNAL GOODS. ?53 
 
 and more than they ought to take. Lust for the most shameful lucre 
 seems to be the common vice of all degraded hearts : there is no infamy 
 they are not willing to endure, if they can make it a profit." * 
 
 146. Duties relating to the acquisition of external things. 
 — Work. — The necessity of procuring the things needful to 
 life imposes on us a fundamental obligation, -which continues 
 even when the want is met : it is the obligation of work. 
 
 Work springs from want ; this is its first origin ; but it 
 survives want ; and its beauty and dignity consist in that, 
 being at first born of a natural necessity, it becomes the honor 
 of man and the salvation of society. 
 
 In its most general sense, work means activity, and in that 
 sense it may be said that everything works in nature ; every- 
 thing is in motion ; everywhere we see effort, energy, unfold- 
 ing of forces. Take but the animals : the bird works to build 
 its nest ; the spider to weave its web ; the bee to make her 
 honey ; the beaver to construct its lodges ; the dog to catch 
 the game ; the cat to catch mice. We find among animals 
 workmen of all sorts : masons, architects, tailors, hunters, 
 travelers ; even politicians and artists, as if they had been 
 destined to set us examples in all kinds of work and activity. 
 
 " In the morning," says Marcus Aurelius, " when thou hast trouble 
 in getting up, say to thyself : I awake to do the work of a man : why, 
 then, should I grieve for having to do things for which I am born, for 
 which I was sent into the world ? Was I born to remain warmly in bed 
 under my cover ? — But it is so pleasant. — Wert thou born for pleasure, 
 then ? Was it not for action, for work ? Seest thou not the plants, 
 the sparrows, the ants, the spiders, the bees, filling each their functions, 
 and contributing according to their capacity to the harmony of the 
 world ? And shouldst thou refuse to attend thy functions as man ? 
 Shouldst thou not follow the biddings of nature ? " t 
 
 The ancients distinguished two kinds of work : noble and in- 
 dependent work, namely, the arts, the sciences, war and 
 politics ; and servile or mercenary work imposed by necessity. 
 The latter they deemed below the dignity of man ; manual 
 
 * Aristotle, Nichomachean Ethics, iv., i. 
 
 \ Meditations of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, v., i.
 
 • 
 
 254 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 
 
 labor, properly so called, useful work, distinct from gymnastic? 
 and juilitary exercises, they considered as belonging exclu- 
 sively to slaves. It is to this Aristotle referred when he said : 
 
 "There are men who have but j ast the necessary amount of reason to 
 understand the reason of others : Lt is they whose only work is useful 
 manual labor. It is obvious that such men cannot belong to them- 
 selves ; they belong necessarUy to others ; they are slaves by nature. " 
 
 Aristotle believed, moreover, that nature herself had made 
 the distinction between the freeman and the slave : 
 
 "Nature," he said, "made the bodies of the freemen different from 
 those of the slaves ; she gave to the latter the necessary vigor for the 
 heavy work of society, and made the former unable to bend their erect 
 natures to sucli rude labors." * 
 
 It is not necessary to have lived to this present time to 
 find these errors refuted. Before Aristotle, Socrates had 
 already understood the dignity of labor, even of the productive 
 labor insuring a livelihood ; he had seen that work in itself 
 was not servile, as the following charming account related by 
 Xenophon, well proves : 
 
 " Socrates, observing, on one occasion, Aristarchus looking 
 gloomily, ' You seem,' said he, ' Aristarchus, to be taking 
 something to heart ; but you ought to impart the cause of your 
 uneasiness to your friends ; for, perhaps, we may by some 
 means lighten it.' 
 
 " ' I am indeed, Socrates,' replied Aristarchus, ' in great per- 
 plexity ; for since the city has been disturbed, and many of 
 our people have fled to the I'iraeus, my surviving sisters and 
 nieces and cousins have gathsred about me in such numbers, 
 that there are now in my house fourteen free-born persons. 
 At the same time, we receive no profit from our lands, for the 
 enemy are in possession of them ; nor any rent from our 
 houses, for but few inhabitants are left in the city ; no one 
 will buy <jur furniture, nor is it possible to borrow money 
 from any quarter ; a person, indeed, as it seems to me, would 
 
 * Aristotle, Politics, i., ii.
 
 DUTIES RELATING TO EXTERNAL GOODS. 255 
 
 sooner find money by seeking it on the road, than get it by 
 borrowing. It is a grievous thing to nie, therefore, to leave 
 my relations to perish ; and it is impossible for me to support 
 such a number under such circumstances.' Socrates, on hearing 
 this, replied : ' Are you not aware that Cyrebus, by making 
 bread, maintains his whole household and lives luxuriously ; that 
 Demea supports himself by making cloaks, Menon by making 
 woolen cloaks, and that most of the Megarians live by mak- 
 ing mantles?' 'Certainly they do,' said Aristarchus; 'for 
 they purchase barbarian slaves and keep them, in order to 
 force them to do what they please ; but I have with me free- 
 born persons and relatives.' ' Then,' added Socrates, ' be- 
 cause they are free and related to you, do you think that they 
 ought to do. nothing else but eat and sleep 1 Do you find that 
 idleness and carelessness are serviceable to mankind, either for 
 learning what it becomes them to know, or for remembering 
 what they liave learned, or for maintaining the health and 
 strength of their bodies, and that industry and diligence are 
 of no service at all 1 And as to the arts which you say they 
 know, did they learn them as being useless to maintain life, 
 and with the intention of never practicing any of them, or, 
 on the contrary, with a view to occupy themselves about them, 
 and to reap profit from them ? In which condition will men 
 be more temperate, living in idleness or attending to useful 
 employments 1 In which condition wiU they be more honest, 
 if they work, or if they sit in idleness meditating how to pro- 
 cure necessaries V 'By the gods,' exclaimed Aristarchus, 
 'you seem to me to give such excellent advice, Socrates, that 
 though hitherto I did not like to borrow money, knowing that, 
 when I had spent what I got, I should have no means of 
 repaying it, I now think that I can endure to do so, in order 
 to gain the necessary means for commencing work.' 
 
 " The necessary means were accordingly provided ; wool was 
 bought ; and the women took their dinners as they continued 
 at work, and supped when they had finished their tasks ; they 
 became cheerful instead of gloomy in countenance, and,
 
 25G ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 instead of regarding each other with dislike, met the looks of 
 one another with pleasure ; they loved Aristarchus as their 
 protector, and he loved them as being of use to him. At last 
 he came to Socrates, and told him with delight of the state of 
 things in the house ; adding that, ' the women complained of 
 him as being the only person in the house that ate the bread 
 of idleness.' ' And do you not tell them,' said Socrates, 
 ' the fable of the dog ? For they say that when beasts had 
 the faculty of speech, the sheep said to her master : " You act 
 strangely, in granting nothing to us who supply you with 
 wool, and lambs, and cheese, except what we get from the 
 ground ; while to the dog, who brings you no such profits, 
 you give a share of the food which you take yourself." 
 
 " The dog hearuig these remarks, said, ' And not indeed 
 without reason : for I am he that protects even yourselves, so 
 that you are neither stolen by men, nor carried off by wolves; 
 while, if I were not to guard you, you would be unable even 
 to feed, for fear lest you should be destroyed.' In conse- 
 quence it is said that the sheep agreed that the dog should 
 have superior honor. You, accordingly, tell your relations 
 that you are, in the place of the dog, their guardian and pro- 
 tector, and that, by your means, they work and live in security 
 and pleasure, Avithout suffering injury from any one.' " * 
 
 If it is unjust to regard manual and productive work as 
 servile, it is equally imjust to regard them as alone entitled to 
 the name of work. 
 
 "There are," sa3's a Chinese sage, "two kinds of work : some peo- 
 ple work witli their minds ; some with their hands. Those who 
 work with tlieir minds govern men; those who work with their hands 
 are governed by men. Those who are governed by men feed men ; those 
 wlio govern men are fed by men." t 
 
 The same author shows further how divers functions are 
 necessarily divided in society. 
 
 * Xenophon's Memorabilia of Socrates, Bohn's translation, by Rev. J. S. Watson, 
 M.A., II., vii. , 
 
 t Confucius and Mencius, Pauthier's translation, p. 303.
 
 DUTIES RELATING TO EXTERNAL GOODS. 257 
 
 " The holy man said to his brother : Go and comfort men; call them 
 to thee; bring them back to virtue; correct them, help them; make 
 them prosper. In thus busying themselves with the welfare of the 
 people, could these holy men find leisure to engage in agriculture ? " 
 
 We must, therefore, admit that all activity usefully em. 
 ployed is work, and that all work, whether manual or intellec- 
 tual, mercenary * or gratuitous, is noble and legitimate. 
 
 Work being taken in its most general sense, may be set 
 do"wn as being a lyleasure, a necessitj/, a duti/. 
 
 Kant, who, as we have seen, refuses to admit in morals any 
 other principle but that of duty, w'ould probably disagree with 
 us when we say that work is a pleasure and a necessity. But if 
 it be true, why should we not say so 1 Is it necessary, in or- 
 der that the duty of work be truly accomplished, that it be 
 both painful and useless? Wisdom nowise requires this. 
 Providence having attached to work, wliilst making it the 
 necessary condition of our self- preservation, a certain pleas- 
 ure, lightening thereby our efforts, morality nowise forbids us 
 to enjoy this pleasure and accept this necessity. 
 
 It will be easily granted that work is a necessity ; but it is 
 more difficult to obtain from men the admission that it is a 
 pleasure. Man, if he -will not die of himger, must work, 
 unquestionably, they will say ; but that it is a pleasure is 
 quite another thing. 
 
 If the pleasure of work is put to question, no one at least 
 wiU maintain that it is a pleasure not to work. For when does 
 rest, leisure, recreation give us most pleasure ? Everybody 
 knows, it is when we have worked. Recall to mind any un- 
 usually heavy Avork, any hurried and necessary task, or even 
 our daily or weekly duty scrupulously fulfilled : what joy is 
 it not when the task is done to give ourselves a holiday ! 
 
 Idleness brings with it satiety, w^eariness, disgust, disorder, 
 
 * The word mercenary has always had an unfavorable meaning attached to it, a 
 relic of ancient prejudice. In the proper sense, mercenary means remunerative, and 
 should have no condemnatory signification. Yet already in antiquity the word mer- 
 cenary had a higher sense than the word servile; for Cicero, wishing to say that one 
 should treat one's slaves well, said tliat they should be treated as mercenaries -that 
 is to say, as men remunerated but free.
 
 258 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 the ruin of the family, the destruction of health, and other 
 evils still more baleful. Work, on the contrary, makes repose 
 enjoyable. Without the fatigue of the day's work, no pleas- 
 ure in sleep, and even no sleep at all. A manifest proof that 
 Providence did not intend us for repose, but for action, for 
 effort, for struggle, for energetic and constant work. 
 
 We should even go so far as to say that work is not only a 
 stimulant, but that it is in itself a pleasure and a joy. 
 
 There is, in the first place, the joy of self-love. We all ex- 
 perience joy when we have accomplished something ; when we 
 have succeeded in a difficult work, and the more difficult it 
 was, the prouder we are of it. Besides, the exercise which 
 accompanies activity is in itself a great good. The unfolding 
 of strength, physical or moral, is the source of the truest pleas- 
 ures. Activity is life itself : to live, is to act. Work, again, 
 gives us the pleasure which accompanies any kind of struggle : 
 in working we struggle against the forces of nature, we subdue 
 them, discipline them, we teach them to obey us. Unquestion- 
 ably the first efforts are painful : but when once the fu'st diffi- 
 culties are overcome, work is so little a fatigue that it becomes 
 a pleasant necessity. One is even obliged to make an effort 
 to take rest. Yes, after having in cliildhood had trouble to 
 get accustomed to work, what in the long run becomes the 
 most difficult, is not to work. One is almost obliged to.fight 
 against himself, to force himself to recreation and rest. 
 Leisure in its turn becomes a duty to which we almost submit 
 against our will, and only because reason bids us to submit to 
 it ; for we know that Ave must not abuse the strength Provi- 
 dence has entrusted to us. 
 
 It is not necessary to dwell long on this point to fix in our 
 memory that work alone insures security and comfort. Cer- 
 tainly it does not always secure them ; this is unfortunately 
 too true ; but if we are not quite sure that by working we 
 can provide for wife and children, and secure a legitimate 
 rest for our old age, we may, on the other hand, be quite sure 
 tliat without Avork we shall bring upon ourselves and 'our
 
 DUTIES EELATIXG TO EXTERNAL GOODS. 250 
 
 family certain misery. There have not yet been found any 
 means whereby wealth may be struck out of the earth with- 
 out work. This wealth which dazzles our eyes ; these palaces, 
 carriages, splendid dresses, this furniture, luxury, all these 
 riches and others more substantial : machinery, iron-works, 
 land produce, all this is accumulated Avork. Between the 
 condition of savages that wander about famished in the forests 
 of America, and the condition of our civilized societies, there 
 is no other difference but work. Suppose (a thing impos- 
 sible) that in a society like this our own, aU work should 
 all at once be stopped : distress and hunger would be the 
 immediate and iiievitable consequence. Spain, on discovering 
 the gold mines of America, thought herself enriched forever ; 
 she ceased work ; it was her ruin ; for from being Europe's 
 sovereign mistress, as she then was, she fell to the rank Ave see 
 her occupy to-day. Laziness brings with it misery ; misery 
 beggary, and beggary is not always satisfied with asking merely 
 — it steals. 
 
 AVork is not only a pleasure or a necessity, it is also a duty ; 
 though painful and joyless, work is, nevertheless, an obliga- 
 tion for man ; it were still an obligation for him if he could 
 live without it. "Work does not only insure security : it se- 
 cures dignity. Man was created to exercise the faculties of 
 his mind and bod}'. He was created to act. I do not speak 
 here of what he owes to others, but of what he owes to him- 
 self. "The happy man," says Aristotle, "is not the man 
 asleep, but the man awake," and to be awake is to work and 
 act.
 
 CHAPTER XIIT. 
 
 DUTIES RELATIXG TO THE INTELLECT. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 Duties relative to the investigation of truth. — Of intellectual vir- 
 tues : that there are such. 
 
 Of the three forms of the intellect : speculative, critical, practical. 
 Hence, three principal qualities : knowledge, judgment or good sense, 
 pmidcnce. 
 
 Of knowledge. — Refutation of the objections to knowledge : Nicole, 
 Malebranche and Rousseau. 
 
 General duty to cultivate one's intellect : the impossibility of de- 
 termining tlie full range of this duty. 
 
 Good sense or judgment. — Errors committed in ordinary life : sopTi- 
 isms of self-love, interest, and pa-ssion. — Other sophisms founded on 
 false appearances. — Logical rules. 
 
 Of prudence or practical wisdom. — Can it be called a virtue ? Par- 
 ticular rules. 
 Duties relative to telling the truth.— Lying.— Two kinds of lies : in- 
 ward and outward lying. 
 
 Inward lying. — Can one lie to himself ? Examples. 
 
 Of the lie properly so-called. — How and wh)' it lowers the mind. 
 
 Of silence.- — To distinguish between dissiynulation and discretion. 
 
 Duty of silence : in what cases ? 
 
 Of the oath and of perjury. — Perjury is a double lie. 
 
 The different duties of man toward himself, considered as a 
 moral being, are naturally deduced from the divers faculties of 
 which this moral being is composed. Plato is the first, to our 
 knowledge, who has employed this mode of deduction.* It 
 is after having distinguished three parts or three faculties in 
 
 ♦ Plato, Republic, i., ii.
 
 DUTIES RELATING TO THE INTELLECT. 261 
 
 the soul, that he attributes to each of them a virtue proper, 
 " virtue being," he says, " the quality by means of which one 
 does a thing well." It is thus that the virtue of wisdom cor- 
 responds to the faculty of the understanding ; the virtue of 
 courage to the irascible or courageous faculty, or to the heart ; 
 temperance, to that of desire or appetite. To these three 
 virtues, Plato adds another which is but the harmony, the 
 accord, the equilibrium between these, namely, justice, 
 Cicero afterwards took up this deduction from another stand- 
 point.* 
 
 In applying tliis ancient method to the present divisions of 
 psychology, we shall admit, with Plato and Cicero, an order of 
 virtues relative to the mind, and which we wiU call wisdom; and 
 another class of virtues relating to the will, and which would 
 correspond with courage or strength of mind {virtus, magnitudo 
 animi). As to sensibility, if we take into consideration the 
 appetites and physical desires, the virtue relating to them is 
 temperance, of which we have already spoken. There remain 
 the emotions, the affections of the heart which relate more 
 particularly to the duties toward others. Yet they may, in a 
 certain respect, be also considered as duties toward one's self, 
 although language does not designate this kind of virtue by a 
 particular name.f 
 
 147. Duties relative to the investigation of truth.— /«fe^ 
 
 ledual virtues. — There are two classes of virtues which have 
 been often distinguished : the strict duties and the hroad 
 duties : the strict duties to consist in not injuring one's facul- 
 ties ; the broad, to develop and perfect them ; it is not easy 
 to apply this distinction here ; and, concerning intelligence, to 
 separate self-preservation from self-improvement. In such a 
 case, not to gain is inevitably to lose ; he who does not culti- 
 vate his intellect, impairs it by that very fact. 
 
 ■* See his De Officiis, i., iv. 
 
 t It might be called sensibility, i.i the sense this word had in the XVIII. century. 
 It is not enough to be liunian toward others, one owes some feeling to one's self 
 also.
 
 2G2 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 Olio could not then, without pedantic investigation and 
 subtlety, try to distinguish here, in one and the same duty, 
 two distinct duties : the one prohibitive, the other imperative. 
 They are both bound up in the general duty to cultivate one's 
 intellect. It is not so with the relations existing between 
 one's own intellect and the intellect of others ; the expression 
 of a thought gives rise to a strict duty : not to lie ; which is 
 the immediate consequence of the duty of the intellect toward 
 itself, and which consequently should, by way of corollary, also 
 belong to the present chapter. 
 
 The first question which presents itself to us is to know 
 whether we should admit, with Aristotle, intellectual virtues, 
 properly so called, distinct from the moral virtues, the first 
 having regard to the intellect, the second to the passions. It 
 would seem that the various faculties pointed out by Aristotle 
 under the name of intellectual virtues, are rather qualities of 
 the mind than virtues : art, science, prudence, wisdom, intel- 
 ligence* (not to mention the difficulty of determining the va- 
 rious shades of meaning of these terms), are natural or ac- 
 quired aptitudes, Ixit which do not appear to have any moral 
 merit : a scholar, an artist, a clever man, a man of good sense 
 and good counsel are naturally distinguished from virtuous 
 men. It would seem then that the intellectual virtues are 
 opposed to the moral virtues, as the mind is to the heart : 
 now, iov every one, it is the heart rather than the mind that 
 is the seat of virtue. 
 
 These difficulties are only apparent, and Aristotle himself 
 gives us the means of solving them : 
 
 " In order to be truly virtuous," he says, "one should always act in 
 a certain inoral spirit : I mean that the choice of an action should be a 
 free one, determined only by the nature of the acts one accompHshes. 
 Now it is virtue that renders this choice laudable and good."t 
 
 It is not the natural faculties of the mind then, no more 
 than those of the heart and body, that deserve the name of 
 
 • Nicomaoheau Etliics, VI., ii. f IbiJ., VI., xii.
 
 DUTIES EELATIXG TO THE INTELLECT. 263 
 
 virtues. It is those same faculties, developed and cultivated 
 by the will : ou this condition alonp do they deserve esteem 
 and respect. The intellect is in itself of a higher order than 
 the senses, the appetites, the passions : it is therefore incum- 
 bent upon us to give it the largest share in our personal de- 
 velopment. " It is to that we are allied," says Pascal, " not to 
 space and time. Let our efforts then tend to think rightly ; this 
 is the principle of morality." The intellect presents two partic- 
 vdar forms : it is either contemplative or active, theoretical or 
 practical. The virtue of the contemplative intellect is knoicl- 
 edge ; that of the practical intellect prudence. Finally a third 
 virtue might be admitted : judgment or common sense, which 
 is a criticcd* not a practical faculty, and which partakes at the 
 same time of both sides of the imderstanding. 
 
 These subtle distinctions of Aristotle have not lost their 
 correctness and application with time. One can, in fact, em- 
 ploy his mind in three ways : either contemplate absolute 
 truth by the means of science ; — or judge of events and men 
 and foresee future things without contributing toward their oc- 
 currence ; — or again deliberate as to what is to be done or not 
 to be done to bring about actions usefid to one's self and to 
 others. Hence three kinds of men : the xcise, the intelligent, 
 the prudent. 
 
 Knowledge. — Taking up again, one after the other, these 
 three qualities, we ought to ask ourselves whether knowledge 
 is a duty for man; if he is held to develop his mind in a theo- 
 retical manner and without any practical end. But before 
 we examine Avhether it is a duty, let us first find out whether 
 it is lawful. 
 
 The scientific and speculative culture of the mind on the 
 part of man, has often been regarded as a proud or conceited 
 refinement. 
 
 This opinion was expressed by some writers of the seven- 
 teenth century — for instance, by Nicole, in the preface to the 
 Logique de Port Royal : 
 
 ♦ Nicomachean Ethics. VI., ii.
 
 264 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 
 
 " These sciences,"' he says, "have not only back-corners and secret 
 recesses of very little use, but they are all useless when viewed in them- 
 selves and for themselves. Men were not born to spend their time 
 measuring lines, examining the relations of angles, studying the divers 
 movements of matter : their mind is too vast, their life too short, their 
 time too precious, to occupy themselves with such small matters," 
 
 Malebranclie expresses himself in about tlie same terms : 
 
 "Men were not born to become astronomers or chemists, to spend 
 their whole life hanging on a telescope or fastened to a furnace, for no 
 better purpose than to draw afterwards from their laborious observations 
 useless consequences. Granting some astronomer was the first in discov- 
 ering lands, seas, and mountains in the moon ; that he was the first to 
 perceive spots moving upon the sun, and that he has calculated their 
 movements exactly. Granting some chemists to have finally discovered 
 the secret of fixing mercury or to make that alkahest by means of 
 which Van Helmont boasted he could dissolve all matter : were they 
 the wiser and happier for it ? " 
 
 In expressing themselves so disdainfully concerning the 
 sciences, Nicole and Malebranche meant, in fact, only that one 
 should not prefer specidative knowledge to the science of man 
 or to the science of God ; and it is most true that if we view 
 the sciences from a standpoint of dignity, we must admit that 
 the moral sciences have greater excellence than the physical 
 sciences. But that which is equally true is, that we must not 
 measure the merit of the sciences by their material or even 
 moral or logical utility. Science is in itself, and without 
 regard to any other end but itself, worthy to be loved and 
 studied. Intelligence, in fact, was given to man that he 
 might know the truth of things ; investigation is its natural 
 food. Man, in raising himself to science, increases thereby 
 the excellence of his nature ; he becomes a creature of a 
 higher order ; for in tlie order of divine creatures, the most 
 perfect are at the same time those who know the most, and 
 the liighest degree of happiness promised to religious faith, is 
 to know truth face to face. It is therefore no frivolous amuse- 
 ment to increase here below the sum of knowledge we are 
 capable of, though this knowledge be only that of the things
 
 DUTIES RELATING TO THE INTELLECT. 2G5 
 
 of this workl, and not yet the higher and direct knowledge of 
 God. 
 
 Without admitting that science is of itself a legitimate 
 object of research, it will be recognized that it is lawful to 
 study it, either in our own interest or for the love of others, 
 or for the love of God. But tliis is not enough : to sec in 
 science nothing but a means to be useful to ourselves (as, for 
 example, to make a living),* is a servile and mercenary view, 
 which does not Reserve to be discussed. To maintain that 
 science shoidd only be cultivated because of its utility to 
 others, is the same as to say that man has no duties toward 
 liimself, and that he is not obliged, letting alone the interest 
 of others, to respect or perfect his own self : a thing we have 
 already refuted. Finally, to say that science should be cul- 
 tivated as a gift from God, and for the love of God, may bo 
 true ; but tliis is not any more applicable to that occupation 
 than to any other ; and the same may be said of any other 
 kind of duty without exception. Certainly, science should 
 not make one proud; but pride is only an adventitious 
 and not a necessary consequence, which, in speaking of cul- 
 tivating science, should not be confounded Avith the fact itself. 
 
 Besides, when Malebranche says that the scientist is not 
 any happier or Aviser for his science, he is mistaken : for the 
 greatest happiness is sometimes derived from science alone ; 
 and as to the wisdom of it, a taste for elevated thought is 
 already a guarantee against the allurements of the passions ; 
 finally, whilst we cultivate science, we are safe from other less 
 innocent inclinations. 
 
 To the opinions of Nicole and Malebranche, let us oppose 
 the testimony of two men who possessed in the highest degree 
 the respect and love of science : 
 
 " It is unworthy of man," says Aristotle, " not to possess himself of 
 all the science he can. If the poets arc right, when they say tliat the 
 Divinity is capable of jealoiisy, this jealousy would especially manifest 
 
 * We do not mean by this that science cannot be a means of livelihood : nothing 
 more legitimate, on the contrary. We only mean that it is not that alone.
 
 266 ELEMENTS OF MORALS, 
 
 itself in regard to philosophy, and then, aU those who indulged in 
 elevated thought would be unhappy. But it is not possible for the 
 Divinity to be jealous, and the poets, as the proverb says, do not always 
 tell the truth. 
 
 Let us now hear Descartes : 
 
 "Although in judging myself I find that I am more disposed to 
 incline toward the side of distrust than presumption, and that regarding 
 with a philosopher's eye the diverse actions and enterprises of men, there 
 be scarcely any that do not seem to me vain and unless, yet does the 
 ])rogress which I think I have already made in the search for truth 
 give me extreme satisfaction, and inspire me with such hopes for the futm-e 
 that if, among the more material occupations of men, there are any sub- 
 stantiall}' gowl and important, I dare believe that it is the one I have 
 chosen. " * 
 
 If, from a standpoint of somewhat mystical piety, some 
 minds of the seventeenth century regarded the sciences as 
 useless, a paradoxical stoicism accused them in the eighteenth 
 to be a cause of corruption and decay in society. Such is 
 J. J. Rousseau's celebrated thesis in his first speech at the 
 Academy of Dijon. 
 
 This celebrated paradox, which has created so much ex- 
 citement in the past century, and which is even an historical 
 event (for it was the first attack against the society of the 
 time), has smce been so decried that it is useless to dwell on 
 it. Let us make a brief resume of J. J. Rousseau's argu- 
 ments: 
 
 1. Progress in letters and sciences serves for nothing else 
 but to conceal the vices and put hypocrisy in the place of an 
 ill-bred rusticity. 
 
 2. All great nations ceased to be invincible as soon as the 
 sciences penetrated among them. Egypt, after the conquest 
 of Cambyses ; Greece, after Pericles ; Rome, after Augustus. 
 If, on the contrary, we look for examples of healthy, honest,, 
 vigorous nations, avc find them among the ancient Persians, 
 Scythians, Spartans, the first Romans, the Swiss. 
 
 * See also the admirable passage of Augustin Tliierry in the preface toDwa/is 
 d'iiude.
 
 DUTIES RELATING TO THE INTELLECT. 2G7 
 
 3. The sciences and arts are born of and. nourish idleness. 
 Their least mischief is viselessness.* 
 
 4. The letters and arts engender luxury, and luxury is 
 one of the powerfid instruments of corruption in morals : it 
 destroys courage, lowers the character, and, by another con- 
 sequence, depraves and corrupts the taste even. 
 
 5. Another consequence : the culture of the mind en- 
 genders sophisms, false systems, and dangerous doubts about 
 religion and morality. 
 
 These various arguments, taking them up one after the 
 other, may be answered as follows : 
 
 1. It is nowise proved that in the age of ignorance vices 
 ■were less nimierous and less deeply rooted than in the more 
 enlightened age. Decency is a good in itself, and is not 
 always hypocrisy. Delicacy of mind robs at least Adce of its 
 grossest features ; it diminishes and allays violence, which 
 is a great source of crimes. 
 
 2. It is not true that military virtues (which, besides, 
 are not the only admirable virtues) are destroyed by the 
 culture of the mind : modern examples prove this suffi- 
 ciently. 
 
 3. To say that the letters and sciences are born of and 
 nourish idleness is an abuse of words, "^^^lerein is the man 
 who works mentally more idle than he who works with his 
 hands ? 
 
 4. The sciences and letters do not develop a taste for 
 luxury : luxury would develop without them, and would be 
 all the more frivolous and corrupting : they are concomitant, 
 but not mutually related facts. Luxury, besides, is not abso- 
 
 * " Answer me, ye illustrious philosophers, ye through whom we know what are 
 the causes which attract bodies to a vacuum ; what are in the revolutions of the 
 planets, the relations of the spaces they travel over at equal periods .... 
 how man sees p,verything in God ; how the soul and the body correspond to each 
 other without inter-coinmunication, like two clocks .... Even though you 
 hail not taught us any of these things, should we be less numerous, less flourish- 
 ing, more depraved?" This passage recalls vividly that of Malebranche quoted 
 above. What, however, is most curious about it is that Rousseau in his criticism 
 appropriates Malcbranche's hi-pothesis.
 
 268 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 lutely bad in itself : the taste for elegapce is a legitimate one. 
 Is not nature herself adorned 1 
 
 5. Science develops wrong opinions, false systems : so be 
 it ; but it also corrects them, and we should look at both 
 sides of a thing and see its good parts as well as its bad. 
 Otherwise it would be easy to prove that everything is wrong. 
 
 Eousseau's paradox, however, is not altogether false, and 
 there are, unquestionably, many evils mixed up with the cul- 
 ture of the mind, but these evils do not come from the mind's 
 being cultivated, but from its being badly cultivated ; they do 
 not come from people's seeking the true and the beautiful, 
 but, on the contrary, from their not seeking them enough. 
 The vanity derived from false science should not be im- 
 puted to true science, but to ignorance. The moral enfeeble- 
 ment, which is the result of an over-refined culture of the 
 mind, comes from our not sufficiently cultivating the mind in 
 every direction ; for example, from our neglecting the moral 
 sciences for the industrial sciences, or the nobler arts for the 
 voluptuous arts. The remedy for the evils pointed out by 
 Eousseau is, therefore, not ignorance, but, on the contrary, a 
 greater abundance of light, and higher lights. 
 
 It is then for each of us a duty to instruct himself, but it 
 is evident that this duty must be regarded as a broad duty — 
 that is to say, that its application cannot be determined by 
 precise formulas. No man is obliged by the moral law to be 
 what is called a scholar ; no one is obliged to learn astronomy 
 or transcendental mathematics, still less metaphysics. But it 
 can be said that it is a duty for each of us : 1. To learn as well 
 as possible the principles of the art he will have to cultivate : 
 for instance, the magistrate the principles of jurisprudence ; 
 the physician the principles of medicine ; the artisan the 
 principles of mechanics. In this respect young students, we 
 must confess, have far too easy a conscience. They do not 
 realize the responsibility they incur by their negligence and 
 laziness, 2. It is a duty for all men, according to the 
 means they can dispose of, to instruct themselves concerning
 
 DUTIES RELATING TO THE INTELLECT. 269 
 
 their duties. 3. It is also a duty for each to go, as far as he 
 can, beyond the strictly necessary in matters of education, 
 and in proportion to the means he has at his disposal. It is 
 then a duty to neglect no occasion of improving one's self. 
 
 149. Good sense. — Between science and prudence, be- 
 tween theoretical intelligence and practical intelligence, Aris- 
 totle places the critical faculty — in other terms, judgment, 
 good sense, discernment. This faculty is distinguished from 
 science in that it is only applied to things where doubt and 
 deliberation come in ; it treats then of the same objects as 
 prudence ; but it is distinguished from the latter in that 
 prudence is practical and prescribes what should be done or 
 not be done ; good sense, on the contrary, is purely critical : 
 it is Hmited to mere judging. It is, then, in some respects 
 disinterested and does not induce to action ; it is the art of 
 appreciating things, men, and events. Good judgment may 
 be found among men lacking practical prudence : one sees 
 often very well the fa alts of others without seeing one's own ; 
 or, again, one may be aware of one's own faults and not be 
 able to correct them. However, it is not to be denied that 
 good sense or good judgment is a useful aiixiliary to prudence ; 
 it is already in itself an estimable quality, and is far from 
 being as well distributed among men as Descartes claims.* 
 On the contrary, according to Nicole : 
 
 " Common sense is not so common a quality as one thinks. . . . 
 Nothing is more rare than this exactness of judgment. Everywhere we 
 meet false minds who have scarcely any discernment of what is true ; 
 who take everything the wrong way ; who accept the worst kind of 
 reasonings, and wish to make others accept them also ; who allow them- 
 selves to be carried away by the least appearances of things ; who aie 
 always excessive in their views and run into extremes ; minds who 
 either have no grasp to hold on to the truths they have acquired, be- 
 cause they have become attached to them through chance rather than 
 solid knowledge ; or who, on the contrary, persist in their ideas with 
 such stubbornness that they listen to nothing that could undeceive them; 
 who judge boldly of things neither they nor any one else, perhaps, 
 
 * "Good sense is the best distributed thing in the world," says Descartes at the 
 beginning of his Dixours dc la MelKode.
 
 270 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 ever understood ; who make no difference between talking to the purpose 
 and talking nonsense, and are guided in their judgment by inere trifles. 
 ... So that there are no absurdities, however incredible, that do not 
 find approving adherents. Whoever intends duping people is sure to 
 find people glad to be duped, and the most ridiculous nonsense is sure 
 to find minds suited for it." 
 
 Here, the rules of morality are confounded witli tliose of 
 logic. It is the latter that teaches us how to avoid error, if not 
 in science (which is the object of speculative logic), at least in 
 life. The development of these rules will be found in the 
 Recherche de la verite of Malebranche. The Logique de Port 
 Royal will furnish us a resume of them which will suffice 
 here : 
 
 150. Illusions coming from ourselves. — 1. A first cause 
 of illusion in the judgments we pass upon things, is to take 
 our interest for a motive of belief : "I am of such or such a 
 country, ergo, I must believe that such or such a saint has 
 preached the Gospel there ; I belong to such or such a class, 
 ergo, I believe that such or such a privilege is a just one." 
 
 2. Our affections are another cause of illusion : " I love 
 him, ergo, he is the cleverest man in the world ; I hate him, 
 ergo, he is nobody." This is what may be called the sophistry 
 of the heart. 
 
 3. Illusions of self-love. There are some who decide about 
 everything by the general and very convenient principle, that 
 they must be in the right. They listen but little to the 
 reasons of others ; they wish to carry everything before them 
 })y main authority, and treat all those who are not of their 
 opinion as indifferent thinkers. Some even, without suspect- 
 ing it, go so far as to say to themselves : " If it Avere so, I 
 should not be the clever man I am : or, I am a clever man ; 
 ergo, it is not so." 
 
 4. Reciprocal reproaches which people may make to each 
 other with the same right : for example, you are a caviler, 
 you are selfish, blind, dishonest, etc. Wlience this equitable 
 and judicious rule of Saint Augustine : " Let us avoid in dis-
 
 DUTIES KELATING TO THE INTELLECT. 271 
 
 cussions mutual reproaching; reproaches which, though they 
 may not be true at that moment, may justly be made by both 
 parties." 
 
 5. A spirit of contradiction and dispute, so admirably de- 
 picted by Montaigne : 
 
 "We onl)- learn to dispute that we may contradict, and everyone 
 contradicting and being contradicted, it falls out that the fruit of dispu- 
 tation is to lose and nullify the truth. . . One flies to the east, the other 
 to the west ; they lose the principal, and wander in the crowd of inci- 
 dents ; after an hour of tempest, they know not what they seek ; one 
 is low, the other high, and a third wide ; one catches at a word and a 
 simile ; another is no longer sensible of what is said in opposition to 
 him, being entirely absorbed in his own notions, engaged in following 
 his own course, and not thinking of answering you ; another, finding 
 himself weak, fears all, refuses all, and, at the very beginning, confounds 
 the subjects, or, in the very height of the dispute, stops short, and grows 
 silent ; by a peevish ignoranqe affecting a proud contempt, or an un- 
 seasonable modest desire to shun debate. ..." 
 
 6. The contrary defect, namely, a sycophantic amiability, 
 which approves of everything and admires everything : ex- 
 ample, the Philinte of Moliere. 
 
 Besides these different illusions wliich are due to ourselves 
 and our own weaknesses, there are others engendered from 
 without, or at least from the divers aspects under which things 
 present themselves to us : 
 
 151. Illusions arising from objects. — 1. The mixture of 
 the true and the false, of good and evil which we see in 
 things, causes us often to confound them. Thus do the good 
 qualities of the persons we esteem cause us to approve their 
 defects, and vice versa. Now, it is precisely in this judicious 
 separation of good from evil that a correct mind shows itself. 
 
 2. Illusions arising from eloquence and flowery rhetoric. 
 
 3. Ill-natured interpretations of people's pecidiar views 
 founded on mere appearances or hearsay ; as, for example : 
 such a one goes with doubtful characters, errjo, he is a bad 
 character himself ; such another associates with free-thinkers, 
 m/o, he is a free-thinker likewise ; a third criticises the gov-
 
 272 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS. 
 
 ernmeut, ergo, he is a rebel ; he approves its acts, ergo, he is a 
 courtier, etc., etc. 
 
 4. False deductions drawn from a few accidental occurrences ; 
 as for instance : medicine does not cure all diseases, hence it 
 cures none ; there are frivolous women, hence all women are 
 frivolous ; there are hypocrites, hence piety is nothing but hy- 
 pocrisy. 
 
 5. Error of judging of bad or good advice from subsequent 
 events. As for example: Such or such an event followed 
 upon such and such advice, hence it was good — it was bad. 
 
 6. Sophistry of authority. It consists in accepting men's 
 opinions on the strength of certain qualities they may possess, 
 although these qualities may have notliing to do with the 
 matter in hand. For instance, by reason of their age, or piety, 
 or, what is worse, of wealth and influence. Certainly we do 
 not exactly say in so many words : such a one has a hundred 
 pounds income, and must therefore be right; but there is 
 nevertheless something similar going on in our minds, which 
 runs away with our judgment without our being conscious 
 
 of it. 
 
 In pointing out these various dangers upon which good 
 judgment and upright reasoning are often wrecked, we indi- 
 cate sufficiently the rules which ought to serve in the educa- 
 tion of the mind : for it is enough to be warned against such 
 errors, and be endowed with a certain amount of correct judg- 
 ment, to recognize and avoid them. 
 
 152. Prudence. — From the faculty of judging and having 
 an opinion about things, let us pass on to the third quality of the 
 ndnd, namely : prudence, which consists, as Aristotle informs 
 us, in deliberating well before doing anything, and which is 
 the art of well discerning our interest in the things concern- 
 ing us, and the interest of others in the things concerning 
 them. 
 
 There are then two sorts of prudence : personal prudence, 
 which is nothing more than self-interest well understood, and 
 civil or disinterested prudence, which apjilies to the interests
 
 DUTIES KELATING TO THE IXTELLECT. 273 
 
 of others ; thus, a prudent general, a prudent notary, a pru- 
 dent minister, are not only prudent in their own interests, but 
 for that of others. Prudence from this point of view is then 
 but a duty toward others. As to personal prudence, it may 
 be asked how far it is a question of morals, and whether it is 
 not excluded from them by the very principle of morals, 
 which is duty. But we have already solved that difficulty. 
 ■ Because prudence is not all virtue, it does not follow that it is 
 not a virtue. Certainly, we are too naturally inclined to seek 
 our own interest, to make it necessary to set it down as 
 a duty. But in case of struggle between self-interest and 
 passion,* self-interest takes sometimes the character of duty. 
 This is clear enough. Interest, if properly understood, repre- 
 sents general interest ; and passion, private interest. To yield 
 to passion, is to satisfy at a given moment, and for a very 
 short time, one of our desires only. Prudence, on the con- 
 trary, pleads the cause of the general interest of the entire 
 man, and for all his life. Man may be represented (as Plato 
 has represented him) figuratively as a city, a republic, a world ; 
 it has been said that he is a microcosm (little world). Tliis 
 little world represents in miniature the harmony of the great 
 Avorld. The individual to whom the government of this little 
 world is intrusted, and who stands in regard to himself as 
 Providence stands in regard to the universe, should not favor 
 a part of it at the expense of the rest. Prudence is then the 
 virtue by means of which man governs the affairs of the little 
 State of which he is the king. Prudence, moreover, is noth- 
 ing more than foresight — that is to say, the faculty of foresee- 
 ing Avhat is coming, of drawing from the past, consequences 
 for the future, and acting conformably to the lessons of expe- 
 rience. Xow, it is especially by this that man is distin- 
 guished from the animal : it is by this that he is capable of 
 progress. He owes it then to himself to act according to the 
 principles of reason, and not according to brute instincts. 
 
 * Unless, of course, passion itself implies a duty superior to self-interest : which 
 is nut the case here.
 
 274: ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 Another difficulty of greater import, is that prudence does 
 not represent a special virtue, but is nothing more than a 
 common name given to several particular virtues. Thus, pru- 
 dence being detined " the discernment between the useful and 
 the hurtful," it may be said that discernment, in point of sen- 
 sual pleasures, will be called moderation or temperance ; in 
 point of riches, economy ; that true courage holding the mean 
 between temerity and cowardice, is necessarily accompanied 
 by prudence ; we have seen that science itself must learn how 
 to keep within bounds, and this also is a sort of prudence. 
 We shall find therefore that prudence has not, like other vir- 
 tues, a property of its own. It is in reality nothing more than 
 a mode common to all personal virtues, each presenting two 
 standpoints to be considered from : 1, from the standpoint of 
 personal dignity, which is the higliest principle ; 2, from the 
 standpoint of a proper self-interest, which, subordinate to the 
 first, is a secondary and relative standpoint. 
 
 However, applied in individual cases, we will give here a 
 few of the rules concerning prudence in general : 
 
 1. It is not enough to attend to what good or evil the pres- 
 ent mouient may present ; we should also examine what the 
 natural consequences of this good or evil will be, so that, com- 
 paring the present with the future and balancing the one with 
 the other, we may see the result beforehand. 
 
 2. It is unreasonable to seek a good which wiU inevitably 
 be followed by a greater evil. 
 
 3. Nothing is more reasonable than to suffer an evil 
 which is certain to be followed by a greater good. 
 
 4. One should prefer a greater good to a lesser, and con- 
 versely so in the case of evils. 
 
 5. It is not necessary to be fully certain in regard to 
 great goods or evils, and probal)ility is sufficient to induce a 
 reasonable person to deprive himself of some lesser goods, or 
 to suffer some slight evils, in view of acquiring much greater 
 goods, or avoiding worse evils.* 
 
 * See Burlamaqui, Droit naturel, part I., cli. vi.
 
 DUTIES RELATING TO THE INTELLECT. 275 
 
 154. Duties relative to telling the truth. — Veracity 
 and falsehood. — It is in the nature of man to express his 
 thoughts by signs of various kinds, and oftenest by words. 
 What is the law which is to regulate the relations between 
 words and thoughts ? Are we to regard words as arbitrary 
 means serving indifferently to express any kind of thought, 
 or as having no other end than to express our own particular 
 thought, the same, namely, which comes to us at the moment 
 of speaking ? Common sense solves this question by esteem- 
 ing in the highest degree those who use speech only to ex- 
 press their thought, and despising those who use it to deceive. 
 This sort of virtue is called veracity, and its opposite is false- 
 hood. 
 
 Falsehood is generally regarded among men as only a viola- 
 tion of the duty toward others. It is not from this stand- 
 point we are going to consider it here. Unquestionably, one 
 should injure no one in any way, no more by a falsehood 
 than otherwise. But for a falsehood to be harmless, does it 
 foUow that it is not bad 1 The scholastics distinguished two 
 kinds of falsehoods : the malicious falsehood, with intent to 
 deceive, and the verbal falsehood, which consists in mere 
 M'ords, and does not spring from any wish to do harm (as, for 
 example, the falsehood of the physician Avho deceives his 
 patient). But such distinctions should not be admitted. 
 Falsehood need not be malicious to be bad : it is bad of itself, 
 whatever be its consequences. There remains then to know 
 what is to be done in cases of conflict between our duties, 
 and whether moral law does not in certain cases relent 1 Even 
 though it did, it would not suffice to authorize the distinction 
 between two kinds of falsehoods. "What precisely constitutes 
 a falsehood is to be verbal — that is to say, to employ speech to 
 express the contrary of truth. "Whether malice enters into it 
 or not, this is an accident which has nothing to do with the 
 essence of falsehood ; it may aggravate or attenuate it, cer- 
 tainly, but it does not constitute it. 
 
 To weU understand the moral evil which resides in false-
 
 276 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 hood one must take it at its source — that is to say, distin- 
 guish with Kant between inner and outiomxl falsehood : the 
 first whereby one lies to himself, namely, in lacking in sin- 
 cerity in regard to himself ; the second whereby one lies to 
 others. 
 
 The human mind is naturally constituted for knowing the 
 truth ; truth is its object and its end. A mind that has not 
 truth for its object is no mind. Whosoever uses his mind to 
 satisfy his inclinations undoubtedly debases his mind, but he 
 does not pervert it ; but he who uses his mind to make him- 
 self or others believe the contrary to the truth, perverts and 
 ruins his mind. He then perverts and destroys one of the 
 most excellent gifts of his nature, and fails thereby in one of 
 the strictest and most clearly defined duties. 
 
 It may be asked whether it is possible for man to really lie 
 to himself, and if it is not rather a contradiction in terms. 
 One can, in fact, understand how a man may be mistaken, 
 but then he does not know that he is mistaken ; it is an error, 
 but no lie ; if, on the contrary, he knows that he is mistaken', 
 then for that very reason is he no longer mistaken ; so that it 
 would seem that there can be no lying to one's self. 
 
 And yet popular psychology, the subtlest of all, because it is 
 formed in the presence of real facts, and under the true teach- 
 ings of experience (whilst scientific psychology is always more 
 or less artificial), this natural psychology, Avhich sums up the 
 experience of the whole of humanity, has always affirmed that 
 man could voluntarily deceive himself, consequently lie to 
 himself. The most ordinary case of inward falsehood is 
 when man employs sophisms— that is to say, seeks reasons 
 wherewith to smother the cry of his conscience ; or when he 
 trios to persuade himself that he has no other motive in view 
 than moral good, whilst, in fact, he onh'- acts from fear of 
 punishment, or from any other interested motive. 
 
 " To take, through love of self, an intention for a fact, because it has 
 for its ol)jcct a good end in itself, is again," says Kant, "a defect of 
 another kind. It is a weakness similar tn that of the lover who, desirous
 
 DUTIES RELATIXG TO THE INTELLECT. 277 
 
 to see nothing but good qualities iu the woman he loves,* shuts his 
 eyes to the most obvious defects." 
 
 The inward lie is tlieu an unpardonable weakness, if not a 
 real baseness, and we must conclude from this that it is the 
 same with the outward lie — the lie, namely, which expresses 
 itself in words. 
 
 Here it may be objected that speech is not an integrant 
 part of the mind, that it is only an accident, that whatever 
 use we may make of speech we do not destroy thereby the 
 principle of intelligence, for I may use my mind to discover 
 and possess myself of truth, even though I should not make 
 known ■ the same to others, or make them believe otherwise 
 than I think. From this standpoint falsehood would still 
 remain a sin as a violation of the duty toward others, though 
 not as a shortcoming in regard to one's self. 
 
 But this would be a very false analysis of the psychological 
 fact called communication of thought. Speech is never 
 wholly independent of thought. The very fact that I speak, 
 implies that I think my speech : there is an imier affirmation 
 required. I cannot make sophisms to deceive men without 
 having first inwardly combmed these sophisms through the 
 faculty of thinking which is in me. I think then of one 
 thing and another at the same time ; I think at the same time 
 of both the true and the false, and I am conscious of this con- 
 tradiction. I employ then knowingly my mind in destroying 
 itself, and I fall, consequently, into the vice pointed out above. 
 
 Kant gives another deduction than ours to prove that false- 
 hood is a violation of duty toward one's self. Lut his deduc- 
 tion is, perhaps, not sufficiently severe : 
 
 " A man who does not himself believe what he tells another, is of less 
 Avorth than is a simple thing; for one may put the usefulness of a 
 simple thing to some account, whilst the liar is not so much a real man 
 as a deceiving appearance of a man. . . . Once the major principle of 
 veracity shaken, dissimulation soon runs into all our relations Avith 
 others." 
 
 * See the celebrated lines in tlie Misanthrope, act ii., sc. v.
 
 ^'78 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 This deduction is very ingenious ; but it lacks strictness, 
 inasmuch as it is based on the use a man may be made of, 
 which principle is contrary to the general principle of Kant's 
 morals, and also because it rests on the standpoint of social 
 interest, Avhich lies outside the point in question. 
 
 155. Discretion. — It is evident that the duty not to lie, 
 does not carry with it, as its consequence, the duty of telling 
 all. Silence must not be confounded with dissimulation, and 
 no one is obliged to tell all he has in his mind ; far from it ; 
 we are here before another duty toward ourselves, Avhich 
 stands in some respect in opposition to the preceding one, 
 namely, discretion. The babbler who speaks at all times and 
 under all circumstances, and he who tells what he should not, 
 must not be confounded with the loyal and sincere man, Avho 
 •only tells what he thinks, but does not necessarily tell all he 
 thinks. 
 
 Silence is obviously a strict duty toward others, when the 
 matter in question has been confided to us under the seal of 
 secrecy. But it may also be said that it is a duty toward our- 
 selves, and for the following reasons : 
 
 1. To use one's mind, as does the babbler, in giving utter- 
 ance to barren and frivolous thoughts, is degrading : not all 
 that accidentally crosses one's mind is worthy of being ex- 
 pressed ; and it is simply heedlessness to fix one's mind on 
 fleeting things, and give them a certain fixity and value 
 through words ; 2, there are, on the other hand, other thoughts, 
 too precious, too personal, too elevated, to be indiscreetly ex- 
 posed to the curiosity of fools or indifferent persons. Thus 
 will it be heroic, unquestionably, to confess one's faith before 
 the executioner, if there is need ; but it is not necessary to 
 l)roclaim it all round Avhen there is no occasion for it : I be- 
 lieve such and such a thing ; I belong to such or such a 
 church ; I hold such and such a doctrine ; I belong to such or 
 such a party, unless, of course, there is an interest in spread- 
 ing one's belief ; and even then it will be necessary to choose 
 the right place and the right moment. As ^■o using discretion
 
 DUTIES RELATING TO THE INTELLECT. 279 
 
 in regard to our sentmieuts, our moral qualities, or our defects, 
 it is in one instance a duty of modesty and in another one of 
 personal dignity. 
 
 156. Perjury. — If falsehood is in general an abasement of 
 human dignity, it is a still greater abasement when it is of the 
 kind called jierjury, and a transgression which might be de- 
 fined as a double falsehood. 
 
 Perjury is of two sorts : it either means swearing falsely or 
 violating a former oath. In order to understand the meaning 
 of perjury, one must know what constitutes an oath. 
 
 The oath is an affirmation where God is taken as a witness 
 of the truth one is supposed to utter. The oath consists, 
 then, in some respect, in invoking God in our favor, in mak- 
 ing him speak in our name. We, so to say, attest that God 
 himself, who reads the heart, would, if he were called in 
 testimony, speak as we speak ourselves. The oath indicates 
 that one accepts in advance the chastisements God does not 
 fail to inflict upon those Avho invoke his name in vain. 
 
 It will be seen by this how perjury, namely, false swearing, 
 may be called a double lie. For perjury is a lie, first in 
 affirming a thing that is false, and second, in affirming that 
 God would bear testimony if he were present. Let us 
 add that there is here a sort of sacrilege which consists 
 in our making God, in some respects, the accomplice of our 
 lie. 
 
 It is true that men, in taking an oath, forget often its sacred 
 and religious character, and, consequently, there is not always a 
 sacrilegious intention in their false swearing. But it may 
 still be said that perjury is a double lie ; for in every oath 
 taken, even though stripped of all religious character, there is 
 always a double attestation : first we affirm a thing, and next 
 we affirm that our affirmation is true. It is thus that in that 
 form of speech long since worn out, which is called tvord of 
 honor, we give our word and engage our honor to attest that 
 such or such affirmation is true. To break this word is, then, 
 to lie twice, for it is affirming a false affirmation. It is for 
 
 o
 
 2S0 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 this reason that falsehood, which is always culpable, must, in 
 this case, be regarded as particularly dishonorable. 
 
 As to perjury, considered as a violation of a former oath, it 
 belongs to the class of promise or word-breaking, which is 
 especially contrary to the duty toward others. Yet, even ki 
 this kind of falsehood, there is also a violation of personal 
 duty ; for he who breaks a promise (with or without oath) 
 would seem to indicate by it that he did not intend keeping 
 liis promise, which is destructive to the very idea of a promise; 
 it is then, once more, using speech, not as a necessary symbol 
 of thought, but simply as a means of obtaining what we want, 
 reserving to ourselves the liberty to change our minds when 
 the moment comes for fulfilling our promise. This is abasing 
 our intelligence, and making it serve as a means to satisfy our 
 wants, whilst it belongs to an order far superior to these very 
 wants.
 
 CHAPTEE XIY. 
 
 DUTIES KELATIVE TO THE WILL. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 Duties relative to the will.—Strength of soul.— All duty in general 
 
 is relative to the will : for there is not any which does not require 
 the control of the will over the inclinations. 
 
 Virtue, especially when considered from the latter standpoint, — the 
 control of the will over the inclinations, — is strength of soul, or 
 courage. 
 
 Of courage and its different forms : military courage ; civic courage ; 
 patience, moderation in prosperity ; equanimity, etc. 
 
 Of anger and its ditferent kinds. — Generous anger. 
 
 Jiwiy oi personal dignity. — Respect for ones self. True 'pride and 
 false pride. — Of a jms< esteem of one's self — Of modesty. 
 Duties relative to sentiment. — Have we any duties in regard to our 
 sensibilities? — Kant's objection : no one can love at will. Reply. — 
 To distinguish sensibility from sentimentality. 
 
 157. Duties relative to the will.— Strength of sou!.— One 
 
 may justly ask whether there are any duties relating particu- 
 larly to the will : for it would seem tliat all duties are gener- 
 ally duties of the will. There is no one that does not require 
 the control of the will over the inclinations ; and if we say 
 that it is a duty to cultivate and exercise this control, is it not 
 as if we said that it is a duty to learn to do our duty 1 But 
 why could we not also suppose a third duty, commanding us 
 to observe the former, and so ad mfinitum ? 
 
 We may then say that the duty to exercise one's will and 
 triumph over the passions, is nothing more than duty p''^ 
 se, the duty par excellence, of wliich all the other duties
 
 % 
 
 282 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 are but parts. This virtue, by which the soul commands 
 its passions and does not allow itself to be subjugated by 
 any of them, may be called courage or strength of soul. 
 Courage thus understood is not only a virtue ; it is vir- 
 tue itself.* In fact, what is temperance, if it is not a cer- 
 tain kind of courage before the pleasures of the senses ? what 
 economy, if not courage before the temptations of fortune ? 
 what veracity, if not the courage to tell the truth under all 
 circumstances ? what justice and benevolence, if not the cour- 
 age to sacrifice self-interest to the interest of others ? AVc 
 have already (page 87) made a similar observation in regard 
 to prudence and wisdom, namely, that virtue in general is 
 both wisdom and courage : for it presupposes at the same time 
 strength and light. As strengtli, it is courage, energy, great- 
 ness of soul ; as light, it is prudence and wisdom. All special 
 virtues would, then, strictly speaking, be only factors, or 
 .component parts, of those two. 
 
 V^ 158. Courage. — Yet if courage, in its most general sense, 
 is virtue itself, usage has given it a special meaning which 
 defines it in a more particular manner, and makes of it a cer- 
 tain distinct virtue, on the same conditions as all the others. 
 As of all the assaults which besiege us in life, death appears 
 to be the most terrible and generally the most dreaded, it is 
 not to be. wondered then that this kind of energy which con- 
 sists in braving death and, consequently, all that may lead to 
 it, namely, peril, has been designated by a particular name. 
 Courage, therefore, is the sort of virtue which braves peril and 
 even death. Then, by extension, the same word was applied 
 to every manifestation of strength of soul before misfortune, 
 misery, grief. A man can be brave in poverty, in slavery, 
 under humiliation even — that is, a humiliation Avhich is due to 
 outward circumstances, and which he has not deserved. 
 
 This courageous virtue seems to have been the particular 
 feature of the ancients, and by dint of its excellence, still re- 
 tains its hold on us, dazzling our imagination, as a privileged 
 
 * Virtus in Latin lia.s Ijotli meanings.
 
 DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 283 
 
 prestige. Yet is it only an illusion, and modern times are as 
 rich in heroes as were ancient times : only we pay less atten- 
 tion to it perhaps ; but, whether it be real superiority in this 
 kind of virtue, or literary reminiscences and habits of educa- 
 tion, nothing will ever erase that lively picture of ancient 
 heroism so celebrated under the name of Plutarch's heroes, 
 and which has always captivated all great imaginations. 
 Stoicism, that original philosophy of the Greek and Roman 
 world, is alwve all the philosophy of courage. Its character 
 proper is the strength to resist one's self, to hold pain, death, 
 all the accidents of humanity, in contempt. Its model is Her- 
 cules, the god of strength ; ail the great men of antiquity, 
 M'hether consciously or not, were stoics : such were especially 
 the ancient Roman citizens ; tliey were austere, inexorable ; 
 slaves to duty and discipline, faithful to their oath, to their 
 country ; — Brutus, Regulus, Scsevola, Decius, and thousands 
 more like them. Wlien stoicism came in contact with the 
 last great Romans, it found material all ready for its doc- 
 trines ; it then became the philosophy of the last republicans, 
 the last heroes of a world which was fast disappearing. 
 
 The courage Avhich most impresses men is military courage. 
 
 "The most honorable deaths occur in war,"' says Aristotle, " for in 
 war the danger is the greatest and most honorable. The public honors 
 that are awarded in states and by monarchs attest thia 
 
 *' Properly, then, he who in the case of an honorable death, and under 
 circumstances close at hand which cause death, is fearless, may be called 
 courageous ; and the dangers of war are, more than any others, of 
 this description," * 
 
 In looking at it from this somewhat exclusive standpoint, 
 Aristotle refuses to call courageous those who brave sickness 
 and poverty ; " for it is possible," he says, " for cowards, in 
 the perils of war, to bear with much firmness the losses of 
 fortune ;" nor does he allow to be called courageous " him who 
 tirmly meets the strokes of the whip he is threatened witli." 
 
 This is but a question of name and degree. Wherever 
 
 * Aristotle, Nicnmachean Ethics. Translated by R. W. Browne, III., vi.
 
 284 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 
 
 there are any evils to brave, the firmness which meets and 
 bears these evils can be called courage ; on the other hand, 
 the sense of the word can, if preferred, be restricted to mili- 
 tary perils ; but what Aristotle has most justly defined, and of 
 which he makes a very subtle analysis, is the difference be- 
 tween apparent and true courage. Thus the courage of con- 
 straint and necessity — as, for instance, that of soldiers who 
 would be mercilessly killed, if they retreated before the en- 
 emy — is not true courage, for one cannot be brave through 
 fear. Nor should anger be confounded with courage : this 
 were but the courage of wild beasts obeying a blind impulse 
 under the sting of pain. At that rate, the donkeys even, 
 when hungry, would be brave. That which determines true 
 courage is the sentiment of honor, not passion. We should 
 neither call brave him who is so only because he feels himself 
 the strongest, like the drunkard full of confidence in the be- 
 ginning, but who runs away when he does not succeed. For 
 this reason is there truer courage in preserving one's intrepidity 
 and calm in sudden dangers, than in dangers long anticipated.* 
 Finally, ignorance cannot be called courage either : to brave a 
 danger one is igiiorant of, is only to be apparently brave. 
 
 Aristotle finds also in courage an excellent opportunity to 
 apply his celebrated theory of the golden mean. Courage is 
 for him a medium between temerity and cowardice. But it 
 is not the too much or too little in danger which determines 
 what we ought to call courage. There are cases where one 
 may be obliged to brave the greatest possible danger without 
 being for that rash ; other cases where, on the contrary, one 
 has the right to avoid the least possible peril without being for 
 that a coward. The true principle is that one should brave 
 necessary perils, be they ever so great ; and likewise avoid 
 useless perils, be they ever so slight. Yet, the question of de- 
 gree should not be wholly overlooked. There are some 
 
 * This idea of Aristotle may be questioned ; for, in a sudden peril, one may be 
 sustained by a natural impulse, and the feeling of self-defense, whilst anticipated 
 I)eril allows all the impressions of fear to grow : it requires, therefore, a greater 
 eJTort to overcome them.
 
 DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 285 
 
 perils which, without being necessary, it is useful to brave 
 (were it but to train one's self for greater ones). Such are, 
 for example, the dangers connected with bodily exercises. 
 Peril and utility must, of course, be compared with each other; 
 for example, he who from considerations of utility would wish 
 to avoid all kinds of perds, wdl be wanting in courage ; and 
 he who, on the contrary, would lightly brave an extreme peril, 
 will natUKilly deserve to be called rash. Thus must we first 
 consider the nature of the peril, and, secondly, the degree. 
 
 159. Civic courage. — Although military courage is the 
 most brilliant and }iopular form of courage, it may be asked 
 whether there is not a higher and nobler form still, namely, 
 civic courage. 
 
 Cicero, who, to say the truth, was not sufficiently disinter- 
 ested in the matter, persists in showing that civic virtues are 
 equal to military virtues, and demand an equal amount of 
 courage and energy.* A firm and high-souled man, he says, 
 has no trouble in difficult circumstances, to preserve his pres- 
 ence of mind and the free use of his reason, to provide in ad- 
 vance against events, and to be always ready for action when 
 necessary. 
 
 This is a sort of courage more difficult perhaps than the 
 one required in a hand-to-hand struggle with the enemy. 
 Civic life, besides, has itself trials which often imperil one's 
 existence. 
 
 Antiquity has left us imiumerable and admirable exam- 
 ples of civic courage against tyranny. Helvidius Priscus was 
 thought to look with disapproval upon Vespasian's administra- 
 tion. The latter sent him word to keep away from the Sen- 
 ate : " It is in thy power," replied Helvidius, " to forbid my 
 belonging to the Senate, but as long as I belong to it, I shall 
 attend it." — "Go, then," said the emperor, "but hold thy 
 tongue." — "If thou ask me no questions I will make thee no 
 answers." — "But I must ask thee questions." — "And I must 
 answer thee what I think just." — " If thou dost, I shall have 
 
 * Dc Officih, I., ::xiii.
 
 286 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 thee put to death." — " When have I said to thee that I was 
 immortal ?" But nothing ever surpassed the intrepidity of 
 Socrates, either before the Thirty Tyrants who wished to inter- 
 dict him free speech,* or before the people's tribunals which 
 condemned him to death : 
 
 Plato in bis Apology makes him say : "If you were to tell me now, 
 ' Socrates, we will not listen to Anytus : we send tliee back absolved on 
 condition that thou ceasest philosophizing and givest up thy accus- 
 tomed researches,' I should answer you without hesitation, '0 Atheni- 
 ans, I honor and love you, but I shall obey God before I obey you. ' " 
 
 Then, after having been condemned to death, he closes with 
 these admirable words : 
 
 " I bear ray accusers, and those who have condemned me, no resent- 
 ment, although they did not seek my good, but rather to injure me. 
 But I shall ask of them one favor : I beg you, when my children shall be 
 grown up, to persecute them as I have nij'self persecuted you, if you see 
 that they prefer riches to virtue. . . If you grant us this favor, I and 
 my children shall have but to praise your justice. But it is time we go 
 each our way : I to die, you to live. Which of us has the better part, 
 you or I ? This is known to none but God." 
 
 160. Patience. — One of the most difficult forms of courage 
 is that which consists not only in braving or repelling 
 a threatening danger (wl^ich presupposes some effort and 
 activity), but in bearing without anger, without any sign 
 of vain revolt, the ills and pains of life : this is patience. 
 There is a kind of patience which is but a part of our duty 
 in regard to others : one must learn to bear a great deal 
 from others, they having often a great deal to bear from us. 
 But we speak here of that inner patience which is our strength 
 in grief ; the patience of the invalid in his daily sufferings ; 
 that of the poor man in his poverty ; the patience, in short, 
 which all must exercise amidst the innumerable and inevitable 
 accidents of life. It is, above all, that sort of virtue which 
 the Stoics meant when they said with Epictetus : " You 
 should not wish things to happen as you want them ; but you 
 
 See Xenophon'e Merrwrabilin of Socrates, I., i.
 
 DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 28? 
 
 should wish them as they do happen." A niaxini which 
 Descartes translated substantially, saying : " My maxim is 
 rather to try to overcome myself than fortune, and rather to 
 change my own wishes than to change the order of the world." 
 Wliich he explained by saying : 
 
 " If we regard the goods which lie outside of ns as unattainable as 
 those we are deprived of from our birth, we shall no more grieve at not 
 jiossessing them, than we should in not possessing the empires of China 
 or Mexico ; and, making, as it is said, a virtue of necessity, we shall 
 not any more desire to be healthy when Ul, or to be free when in prison, 
 than we desire now to have bodies of as incorruptible a stufi' as diamonds, 
 or to have wings to fly with like birds." * 
 
 It is this kind of courage wiiich at every moment of life 
 is most in requisition, and which is the rarest ; for there Avill 
 be found plenty of men capable of braving death when the 
 occasion presents itself ; but to bear with resignation the in- 
 evitable and constantly renewed ills of human life, is a virtue 
 all the more rare as one is scarcely ever ashamed of its op- 
 posite vice. One would blush to fear peril, one does not 
 blush for rebelling against destiny ; one is willing to die if 
 necessary, but not to be thwarted. Yet will it be admitted 
 that to succumb under the weight of destiny, is a kind of 
 cowardice. It is for this reason that it would be justly said 
 that suicide is also a cowardly act ; for whilst it is true that it 
 demands a certain physical courage, it is also true that the 
 moral courage which bears the ills of life is of a still higher 
 order. 
 
 "You take a journey to Olympia," says Epictetus, " to behold the 
 work of Phidias, and each of you thinks it a misfortune to die without 
 a knowledge of such things ; and will you have no inclination to see 
 and understand those works, for which there is no need to take a 
 journey ; but which are ready and at hand, even to those who bestow 
 no pains ! Will you never perceive what you are, or for what you were 
 born, or for what purpose you are admitted to behold this spectacle ? 
 But there are in life some things unpleasant and difficult. And are 
 there none at Olympia i Are you not heated ? Are you not crowded ? 
 
 * Discours de la Meihode, part III.
 
 288 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 Are you not without good convenieuces for bathing ? Are you not wet 
 through, when it happens to rain ? Do you not have uproar and noise, 
 and other disagreeable circumstances ? But, I suppose, by comparing 
 all these with the merit of tlie spectacle, you support and endure them. 
 Well, and have you not received faculties by which you may support 
 every event ? Have you not received greatness of soul ? Have you not 
 received a manly spirit ? Have you not received patience ? What 
 signifies to me anything that happens, while my soul is above it ? 
 What shall disconcert or trouble or appear grievous to me ? Shall I not 
 use my powers to that i)urpose for v/hich I received them ; but lament 
 and groan at every casualty ? " * 
 
 But we should not confound true strength, true courage, 
 true patience, with false strength and ridiculous obstinacy. 
 
 " An acquaintance of mine," says again Epictetus, "had, for no reason, 
 determined to starve himself to death. I went the third day, and in- 
 quired what was the matter. He answered : ' I am determined. ' — • 
 ' Well ; but what is your motive ? For, if your determination be right, 
 we will stay, and assist your departure ; but if unreasonable, change 
 it. ' — ' We ought to keep our determinations. ' — ' What do you mean, sir ? 
 Not all of them ; but such as are right. Else, if you should fancy that 
 it is night, if this be your principle, do not change, but persist and say, 
 " We ought to keep to our determinations." ' What do you mean, sir? 
 Not to all of them. Why do you not begin by first laying the founda- 
 tion, inquiring whether your determination be a sound one, or not ; and 
 then build your firmness and constancy upon it. For, if you lay a 
 rotten and crazy foundation, you must not build ; since the greater and 
 more weighty the superstructure, the sooner will it fall. Without any 
 reason you are withdrawing from us, out of life, a friend, a companion, 
 a fellow-citizen both of the greater and the lesser city ; and while you 
 are committing murder, and destroying an innocent person, you say, 
 "We must keep to our determinations." Suppose, by any means, it 
 should ever come into your head to kill me ; must you keep to such a 
 determination ? ' * 
 
 " With difficulty this person was, however, at last convinced; but 
 there are some at present, whom there is no convincing ... a fool will 
 neither bend nor break." t 
 
 V 161. Moderation. — The ancients always associated with pa- 
 tience in adversity another kind of courage, no less rare and 
 
 ♦ The Works of Epietetus. T. W. HiKHinson's translation, ch. vi., p. 21. 
 t The Works of Epictetus. T. W. Iligginson's translation, ch. xv., page 139.
 
 DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 289 
 
 difficult, namely, moderation in prosperity. It was for them, 
 in some respects, one and the same virtue, exercised in two 
 opposite conditions, and this is what they call equanimity. 
 
 " jS'ow, during our prosperity," says Cicero, " and while 
 things flow agreeably to our desire, we ought, with great care, to 
 avoid pride and arrogance ; for, as it discovers weakness not 
 to bear adversity with equanimity, so also with prosperity. 
 That equanimity, in every condition of life, is a noble attri- 
 bute, and that uniform expression of countenance which we 
 find recorded of Socrates, and also of Caius Laelius. PansB- 
 tius tells us, his scholar and friend, Af ricanus, used to say that 
 as horses, g^o^vn unruly by being in frequent engagements, 
 are delivered over to be tamed by horse-breakers, thus men, 
 who grow riotous and self-sufficient by prosperity, ought, as it 
 were, to be exercised in the traverse * of reason and philoso- 
 phy, that they may learn the inconstancy of human affairs and 
 the uncertainty of fortune.! 
 
 ^Nothing occurs more frequently among the ancient poets 
 and moralists than this idea of the vicissitude of human 
 things. The metaphor of Fortune's wheel, which sometimes 
 lowers to the greatest depth those it raised highest, is well 
 known. "VVe need scarcely dwell upon this commonplace say- 
 ing which has never, for an instant, ceased to be true ; 
 although the more regular conditions of modern society have 
 introduced more security and uniformity in life, at least for 
 those who live wisely and with moderation. Yet is no one 
 secure against the changes of fortune ; there are unexpected 
 elevations as there are sudden falls ; and firmness in either 
 bad or good fortune will always be necessary. 
 
 162. Equality of temper; anger. — To equality of temper 
 or possession of one's self, there is still another obligation at- 
 tached : that of avoiding anger, a passion which the ancients 
 with reason considered the principle of courage, | but which 
 
 * Latin, gyrus, the ring in which colts are driven round by horse-breakers, 
 t Cicero, Dc Officiis, I., xxvi. 
 
 t Plato's RepiMic, I., iv. : A man deserves to be called courageous when tliat 
 part of his soul in which anger resides obeys the commands of reason.
 
 5>90 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 of itself is without any rules, and is more proper to beasts 
 than men. Aristotle has described the irascible disposition 
 with great accuracy. He justly distinguishes two kinds of 
 anger ; one where a man is easily carried aAvay, and as easily 
 appeased again, and the other where resentment is nursed 
 and kept up for a long time. The first is the irascible dispo- 
 sition ; the second, the splenetic or vindictive disposition. 
 
 " Irascible men," says Aristotle, " are easily angered, with improper 
 objects, on improper occasions, and too much; but their anger quickly 
 ceases, and this is the best point in their character. And this is the 
 case with them, because they do not restrain their anger, but retaliate 
 openly and visibly, because of their impetuosity, and then they become 
 calm. — But the bitter are difficult to be appeased, and retain their anger 
 a long time, for they repress their rage ; but there comes a cessation, 
 when they have retaliated ; for revenge makes their anger cease, because 
 it produces pleasure instead of the previous pain. But if they do not 
 get revenge, they feel a weight of disappointment : for, o\ving to its not 
 sho\ving itself, no one I'easons with them ; and there is need of time for 
 a man to digest his anger within him. Persons cf this character are 
 very troublesome to themselves, and to their best friends. " * 
 
 Seneca, in his treatise on Anger, has conclusively shown all 
 the evils this passion carries with it, and of which Horace 
 justly said : " Anger is a short madness," 
 
 Yet, if anger is an evil, apathy, absolute indifference, is fat 
 from being a good. Whilst there is a brutal and beastly 
 anger, there is also a noble, a generous anger, namely, that 
 which is at the service of noble sentiments. Plato describes 
 it in the following terms : 
 
 " When we are convinced that injustice has been done us, 
 does it not plead the cause of what appears to it to be just ? 
 Instead of allowing itself to be overcome by hunger, by 
 cold, by all sorts of ill-treatments, does it not overcome them 1 
 It never ceases a moment to make generous efforts toward 
 obtaining satisfaction, and nothing but death depriving it of its 
 power, or reason persuading or silencing it, as the shepherd 
 silences his dog, can stop it."t 
 
 * Aristotle, Nicomachean Ethiat, R. W. Browne's transl., IV., v. 
 t Plato's Republic, I., iv.
 
 DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 291 
 
 Aristotle also approves of this generous anger, and blames 
 those with souls too cold : 
 
 "One can only call stupid those wlio cannot be aroused to anger 
 about things where real anger ought to be felt. . . He who does not 
 then get angr}- appeai-s insensible and ignorant of what just indignation 
 means. One might even believe him, since he has no feeling of courage, 
 unable to defend himself when necessary. But it is the cowardice of 
 the slave's to accept an insult and to allow his kin to be attacked with 
 impunity." * 
 
 But that -which is not easy, as Aristotle remarks, is to find 
 an exact and proper medium between apathy and violence : 
 
 " It is difficidt to determine with accuracy the manner, the 
 persons, the occasions, and the length of time for which one 
 ought to be angTV, and at what point one ceases to act rightly 
 or wrongly. For he who transgresses the limit a little is not 
 blamed, whether it be on the side of excess or deficiency : and 
 we sometimes praise those who fall short, and call them meek ; 
 and we call the irascible manly, as being able to govern . . . 
 the decision must be left to particular cases, and to the moral 
 sense." f 
 
 163. Personal dignity. — A generous anger, as has been 
 seen, has its principle in the sentiment of personal dignity, 
 with which the duhj of self-resjyed is connected. 
 
 Man's free will is what essentially constitutes the dignity 
 of human nature, the moral personality. Man's duty toward 
 himself as a moral personality is then dependent upon his 
 will. 
 
 This duty of self-respect, of the moral personality, has been 
 admirably expressed by Kant, and we can do no better than 
 transcribe here the passage : 
 
 " Man, considered as an animal, is a being of but mediocre 
 importance, and is not Avorth any more than other animals. 
 His utility and worth is that of any marketable thing. — But, 
 
 * Anger is still nobler when pro^■oked by injustice done to others, 
 t Aristotle, Nicomache.an Ethics, IV., v.
 
 292 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 considered as a personality, he is priceless ; he is possessed of 
 a dignity which can claim the respect of all other reasonable 
 creatures, and which allows him to measure himself with 
 each of them, and consider himself their equal. 
 
 " But this respect, which he has a right to exact of every 
 other man, he should not despoil himself of. He can, and 
 shoidd, therefore, estimate himself both in ratio to his great- 
 ness and littleness, according as he considers himself a sen- 
 suous being (in his animal nature), or an intelligent being (in 
 his moral nature). But as he should not only consider him- 
 self as a person in general, but also as an individual man, his 
 lesser worth as animal-man should not impair the conscious- 
 ness he has of his dignity as reasonable man, and he must 
 hold on to the moral estimate he makes of himself as such. 
 In other words, he should not pursue his aims in a lowly and 
 servile manner, as if he solicited favors : this would be abdi- 
 cating his dignity ; he should always uphold within himself 
 the consciousness of the nobility of his moral faculties, for it 
 is this estimate of one's self which constitutes the duty of 
 man toward himself. 
 
 " The consciousness and conviction of our little moral worth, 
 compared with what the law requires of us, is moral humility. 
 The contrary consciousness and conviction, namely, the per- 
 suading ourselves, for want of tliis comparison, that we are of 
 very great worth, may be called the pride of virtue. — To 
 reject all claim to any moral worth whatsoever, in the hope of 
 acquiring thereby a hidden worth, is a false moral humilit}^ 
 and an abasement of the mind. To undervalue one's own 
 moral worth for the purpose of obtaining thereby the favor of 
 another (through hypocrisy or flattery, namely), is also a false 
 luuuility, and, moreover, an abasement of one's personality. 
 True humility should of necessity be the result of an exact 
 and sincere comparison of one's self with the moral law (with 
 its sanctity and severity). This duty relative to the human 
 dignity in our personality may be more or less clearly stated 
 in the following precepts : Be no man's slave ; let not your
 
 DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 293 
 
 rights be trampled imder foot ; contract no debts for which 
 you cannot give full security ; accept no gifts which you can 
 do without; be neither a parasite, nor a flatterer, nor a beggar; 
 complaints and lamentations, even a single cry wrung from us 
 by boddy pain, are things unworthy of us (still more unworthy 
 if the pain is deserved). Therefore is a criminal's death en- 
 nobled by the firmness with wliicli he meets it. Can he 
 who makes himself a worm complain if he be crushed ? " * 
 
 164. True and false pride. — We should, however, not 
 confound a true and noble pride, without which man is but a 
 thing and a slave, with a passion which looks like it, but 
 which is but its phantom ; I mean false pride. True pride is 
 the just feeling man has of his moral dignity, and which in- 
 terdicts him to humble the human personality in others, or to 
 allow it to be humbled in himself. False pride is the exag- 
 gerated feeling we entertain in regard to our own advantages 
 and superiority over other men. True pride is related to 
 what there is sacred and divine in us ; false pride, on the 
 contrary, feeds and grows fat on the trifling and petty con- 
 cerns of our mere individuality. There is in man, the stoics 
 said, an inner god : the human essence, namely, of which the 
 individual is but the depository, and which he ought to 
 keep sacred and holy as a divine host. This respect for 
 the human personality, religious morality calls holiness ; 
 worldly morality calls it honor ; it is one and the same prin- 
 ciple under different forms ; it is the idea of something sacred 
 in us which we must neither stain nor debase. ■ True pride 
 rests then on what there is common among all men, on what 
 makes tliem equals. False pride, on the contrary, regards 
 chiefly our peculiarities, and what we call more especially our 
 own. True pride asks for nothing more than to be free from 
 oppression ; false pride wants to oppress others. True pride 
 is noble ; false pride, brutal and insolent. Of course it has 
 its degrees according to the nature of the advantages of 
 
 * Kant, Doctrine de la Vertu, trad, fixing. , p. 90.
 
 294 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 "which it boasts. The pride, for exarople, which boasts of 
 material advantages, is the grossest of all ; pride of birth and 
 ancestry is more pardonable, but if he who is proud of them 
 shows it too much he becomes disgusting, and true pride will 
 have a right to protect itself against that kind of false pride. 
 He, again, who is proud of his intellectual advantages is less 
 blameworthy than the former, for these advantages belong, at 
 least, to his personality ; but as they are not due to the man, 
 and as, however great they may be, they have still their Aveak 
 sides, this also is an inexcusable pride. The pride which 
 might appear to be the most pardonable is the pride of virtue, 
 if there were not in some respects a sort of contradiction of 
 terms in drawing advantage and honor from a good the 
 essentiality of which consists in self-forgetfulness and the 
 pure and simple observance of the law. 
 
 The diminutive of false pride is vanity, False pride looks 
 to great things, at least to such as appear great to men; 
 vanity boasts of the smallest. False pride is insulting ; van- 
 ity wounding. The one is odious, the other ridiculous. The 
 lowest order of vanity is fopjnshness, or the vanity of external 
 advantages — the person, the toilet, superficial accomplishments. 
 This diminutive of false pride is one of the most pitiable of 
 passions, and should be combated by manly efforts. 
 
 165. Modesty. — The virtue opposed to false pride, and 
 which, besides, is nowise irreconcilable with true pride, is 
 modesty, a correct feeling, namely, of one's just worth. Mo- 
 rality does not forbid us a proper estimate of our merits ; these 
 merits, besides, having but a relative value, and representing 
 but faintly the high ideal we should always keep before our 
 eyes. To fail to appreciate the advantages we owe to nature, 
 is often indicative only of laziness and apathy. He who 
 depreciates himself is not disposed to turn what there is in him 
 to account. This self-depreciation, in order to avoid the re- 
 sponsibility of using his faculties, is often but a subterfuge 
 and the sophistry of indolence. There is nothing contrary to 
 duty in the acknowl(>dgment of our worth, so long as we do
 
 DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 295 
 
 not boast of it, but thank Providence for it, and put to use 
 the gifts it has conferred on us. If, on the contrary, the 
 question is of virtues we have acquired by our own efforts, the 
 satisfaction we experience from it is but the just recompense 
 of these efforts ; and such a feeling could not be condemned ; 
 for such condemnation woidd be a virtual protest against the 
 moral conscience, which consists as much in the satisfaction we 
 derive from good actions as in the regrets which accompany 
 the bad. 
 
 Unquestionably, " the left hand should not know what the 
 right hand doeth ; " which means that we should not every- 
 where proclaim aloud our good actions, and that we should as 
 much as possible forget them. But this forgetting should not 
 'go so far as indifference ; for our morality depends upon our 
 consciousness. 
 
 But if it is lawful for man to rejoice over his natural or ac- 
 quired gifts, it is on the condition that he do not exaggerate 
 tlieir import : this is easy enough if we compare ourselves to 
 those who are still better gifted than we are, or think of what 
 we should and coidd do with greater efforts, more courage, 
 better will ; or in recognizing the narrow scope, limits, and 
 defects of these gifts, or in keeping, above all, oiir eyes more 
 open to our faults than our good qualities. Beware of the 
 beam of the Gospel. 
 
 Modesty should not only be external, but internal also ; ex- 
 ternally, it is above all a duty we owe others, whom we should 
 not humble by our superior advantages ; internally, it is a 
 duty to ourselves, for we should not deceive ourselves about 
 our own worth. One is sometimes modest externally without 
 being so internally, and conversely. I may pretend before 
 men to have no great opinion of myself, wliilst internally I am 
 full of conceit : .this is sheer hypocrisy. I may, on the other 
 hand, externally attribute to myself advantages which ray con- 
 science altogether denies : this is bragging. One should be 
 modest both inwardly and outwardly, in words and actions. 
 But how,* in what manner, and to what degree must we be
 
 296 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 modest 1 It is impossible in matters so dolicate to establish 
 definite rules, and the decision must be left to our own judg- 
 ment. 
 
 There is another virtue to be distinguished from modesty, 
 namely, humilitij. Humility should not be an abasement ; for 
 it is never a virtue in man to lower himself. But, even as 
 dignity and true pride are virtues which spring from a proper 
 sense of human greatness, so humility is a virtue which 
 springs from a proper sense of human weakness. Eemember 
 that thou art a man and do not degrade thyself : this is self- 
 respect. Eemember that thou art but a man and do not allow 
 tliyself to indulge in vain pride ; this is humility. Modesty 
 relates to the individual ; humility to human nature in gen- 
 eral. As to that false humility which consists in lowering 
 one's self before men unnecessarily, and without any occasion 
 for it (like Tartufe, for example : 
 
 "Yes, brother, I am a sinner and a wTetch ! " *), 
 it is but the falsehood of virtue, and should be rejected by all 
 manly and generous morality. 
 
 166. Duties relative to sentiment. — A last point which 
 should not be neglected is this : has man, as far as he is en- 
 dowed with moral sensibility — that is to say, as far as he is a 
 susceptible being — capable of love, enthusiasm, affection, any 
 duties toward himself 1 
 
 Kant maintains that love cannot be an object of duty ; that 
 no one is obliged to love : that sentiment is phenomenal and 
 belongs to the order of nature, and can neither be produced 
 nor prevented ; that, consequently, it has nothing to do with 
 morals. The only love admitted by Kant in morals is what 
 he calls practical love : namely, the love which consists in 
 actions and does others good, or any kind of sentiment accom- 
 panying benevolence, provided it be a disinterested sentiment. 
 " All other love," he says in his odd and energetic language, 
 " is pathological" that is, sickly. 
 
 * Moliere's Tartvfe.
 
 DUTIES RELATIVE TO THE WILL. 297 
 
 Kant, no doubt, is right if he means that false sentimen- 
 tality or feeble softness,* which the poet Gilbert has so well 
 described, and which the enervating literature of the latter part 
 of the eighteenth century made so ridiculous. "We should take 
 care not to fall into an effeminate tenderness or a siUy pliilan- 
 thropy which sacrifices justice to a mawkish sensibility. But 
 all danger and defects set aside, there still remains the ques- 
 tion whether we owe anything to our own heart, and whether 
 the only thing directly commanded us, be action. 
 
 It is quite true that it is not an effect of our will if our 
 heart is more or less tender, more or less sympathetic. Mature 
 has made some souls gentle and amiable, others austere and 
 cold, others again heroic and hard, etc.; the moralists should 
 not forget these differences, and the degree of sensibility obli- 
 gatory on all cannot be absolutely determined. But there are 
 two facts which certainly oblige us to put some restrictions 
 upon Kant's too harsh doctrine. The first is that moral 
 emotion (affection, enthusiasm for the beautiful, for our coun- 
 try) is never wholly absent in any human soul ; the second is 
 that sensibility does not altogether lie outside our will. We 
 can smother our good feelings as we can smother our evil pas- 
 sions ; we can also cultivate them, develop them, encourage 
 them ; give them a greater or less share in our lives, by plac- 
 ing ourselves in circumstances which favor them. For ex- 
 ample, say such or such a person is but slightly endowed with 
 sensibility or sympathy for the sufferings of the wretched ; 
 yet is it impossible that he be entirely deprived of them : let 
 him overcome his repugnance and indifference ; let him visit 
 the poor, put himself at the service of human misery ; the 
 dormant sympathy will inevitably awaken in his heart. By 
 
 * And shaU I speak of Iris, loved and praised by aU ? 
 Ah ! what lieart ! ah ! what heart ! humanity itself ! 
 A wounded butterfly calls forth the truest tears ! 
 Ah, yes ; but when to death poor Lally is condemned, 
 And to the block is dragged, a spectacle to all, 
 Iris will be the first to go to the dread feast. 
 And buy herself the joy to see his dear head fall. 
 
 GiLBF.uT, Ic Dix-IIuUicme Sicch.
 
 298 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 this fact alone will he be enabled to do good with more ease, 
 and raise his soul to a higher degree of perfection and beauty. 
 Not only should sentiment not be excluded from virtue, as 
 Kant in his excessive austerity demands, but it should be con- 
 sidered its ornament and bloom. " The virtuous man," says 
 Aristotle, "is he who takes pleasure in doing virtuous acts." 
 One should therefore endeavor to awaken in one's self, if one 
 has not yet experienced it, or develop, if one has already ex- 
 perienced it, the noble pleasure which accompanies great 
 sentiments. On the other hand, and for the same reason 
 that it is a duty for man to develop within him, in the limits 
 of the possible, the share of sensibility he may have received 
 from nature, it is also his duty not to encourage this same dis- 
 position too much if he should be inclined this way. For 
 sensibility should only be an auxiliary and a stimulant to 
 virtue ; it should never take its place : otherwise it will lead 
 us astray. An exaggerated sensibility often smothers the 
 voice of justice, enervates us, and deprives us of the robust 
 courage we need in life. There is a reasonable limit which 
 tact and experience alone can teach us. Morality can only 
 give advice and directions. More precise rules are impossible, 
 and would be ridiculous. There is no moral thermometer to 
 indicate the degree of heart-heat each of us is allowed and is 
 obliged to have. Let us only say, that in so delicate a 
 matter, it is better to have too much sensibility than too 
 little.
 
 CHAPTEE XV. 
 
 EELIGIOUS MORALITY. — EELIGIOUS RIGHTS AND DUTIES. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 Are there duties toward God ? 
 
 Duties toward God.— Analysis of the religious sentiment. — Two 
 
 elements : 1, the sentiment of the infinite; 2, the need of hope and 
 
 consolation. 
 Can sentiment become a duty ? 
 Indirect duties toward God. — Piety united with all the acts of life : 
 
 1, obedience ; 2, resignation ; 3, love of God united to that of man. 
 The idea of God in morals. — God the surety of the moral law. 
 Religious society. — Fenelon and Epictetus. 
 Rsligious rights.— Liberty of conscience : liberty of opinion, liberty of 
 
 worship, liberty of propagandism. 
 
 It is not our purpose to speak here of the different forms of 
 religious thought among men : tliis is the special domain of 
 conscience ; but among all these forms, is there no common 
 ground which may be said to belong to the human soul, and 
 which is found to be the same with the sages of pagan an- 
 tiquity and the modem philosophers, although they may not 
 have adopted any special form of worship ? Yes. This com- 
 mon ground of all religion is the idea of God. 
 
 167. Are there any duties toward God ? — If, as we have 
 seen in our first book (Vol. I., last chapter), there is a God, that 
 is to say, an author of the physical and moral universe, and its 
 preserver and protector and father, it follows that man, as 
 a part of this universe, and distinguished from its other creat- 
 ures by the fact that he knows himself to be a child of God, 
 is held to entertain toward this supreme father, sentiments of
 
 300 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 gratitude and respect, and toward this supreme judge senti- 
 ments of fear and hope, all of which gives rise to a whole class 
 of duties. 
 
 Some doubts have been raised on this point by certain 
 philosophers, and the question has been asked whether man, 
 so out of all proportion when compared to God, could have 
 any duties toward Him ? It has been said, moreover, that 
 there could be no duty toward a being to whom we can do 
 neither good nor harm. God, the essence of all perfection 
 and supreme happiness, can have nothing added to nor taken 
 from these by us. We are therefore under no obligation to 
 him whatsoever. 
 
 1. As for the absolute disproportion we imagine to exist 
 between God and man, this disproportion does not prevent my 
 having an idea of God : why should it prevent my loving 
 him and putting myself in relation with him 1 Fenelon justly 
 said : " Nothing is so wonderful as the idea of God which I 
 carry within myself ; it is the infinite contained within the 
 finite. That which is within me is infinitely beyond me. I 
 do not understand how it comes to be in my mind, and yet it 
 is there, nevertheless. This indelible and incomprehensible 
 idea of the Divine Being is Avhat, despite my imperfection 
 and weakness, makes me resemble him. As he infinitely 
 knows and loves himself, so do I, according to my power, 
 know and love him. I can love the infinite by no other 
 means than by my finite knowledge, and love it by no other 
 than a love as finite as myself. ... I wish my love 
 were as limitless as the perfection it loves. It is true, again, 
 that this knowledge and this love are not equally as perfect 
 as their object, but the man who knows and loves God accord- 
 ing to his measure of knowledge and love is incomparably 
 more worthy of this perfect being than the man without God 
 in the world, caring neither to know nor to love him."* 
 Hence it can be concluded that the duties of man toward 
 God are implied in the knowledge he has of him. 
 
 * Letlre sur la metaphysique, lettre II., chap. ix.
 
 RELIGIOUS MOLALITY. 301 
 
 2. As to the second difficulty, it consists in saying that 
 God being susceptible of neither benefits nor injuries, it is 
 not quite clear what acts we could perform in his behalf. 
 But the question is precisely to know whether we only owe 
 duties to beings susceptible of benefits and injuries. We 
 have, for example, to perform duties of justice, love, respect 
 toward the dead, although we can do them neither good nor 
 harm, since they are dead ; and although Ave have reason to 
 think that the dead still exist under another form, the duties 
 we still owe them, are independent of this consideration, and 
 notwithstanding the doubt of the immortality of souls, or their 
 relations with the living, these duties still subsist : those souls 
 might be so happy, and in conditions so different from those of 
 our earthly life, that they might have become wholly indifferent 
 to such, at least to harm. A historian, for instance, would 
 not 1)6 justified in slandering his heroes under the pretext 
 that, not believing in the immortality of the soul, he knew he 
 could do them no harm. Man, even in this life, can, through 
 patience and gentleness, so rise above all insidts as to become 
 wholly insensible to them : which fact, however, does not im- 
 ply that the insults done him are innocent. The same man 
 might be so modest as to feel no need of any homage, which 
 would make it no less a duty of justice on the part of others 
 to render him all the homage that is due him. Wholly in- 
 ward feelings, not evidenced by any outward act whatsoever, 
 cannot in reality do their object any good or harm ; yet no one 
 will question their being duties. It may then be seen that duty 
 is not regulated by the good or evil which may outwardly be 
 done, but by the order of things which requires that every being 
 be loved and respected according to his merit. Now, from this 
 standpoint, there can be no doubt that God, who is supreme 
 perfection and the principle of all order and justice, is the 
 legitimate object of the highest respect and the profoundest 
 love. 
 
 It may be said, perhaps, that these sentiments toward the 
 Creator are rather duties we owe ourselves than God, for it is
 
 303 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 for our o^^^l sakes that we are bound to give to our sensibility 
 and affection the highest object they can have. Since the 
 perfection and the dignity of the soul are enhanced by reli- 
 gion, it is our duty to be religious. 
 
 Fenelon is quite right when he says that " the man Avho 
 knows and loves God is more worthy of him than he who 
 lives without him." Is it not the same as to say that religion 
 rendering man more like God, and bringing him nearer to 
 him, man owes it to himself to rise above himself through 
 piety and the love of God ? 
 
 But it matters very little how we explain the nature of the 
 duties toward God, provided we recognize them. Whether 
 they be considered a distinct class, or whether we only see in 
 them the highest degree of man's duties toward himself ; all 
 this is but a useless speculation. We could say conversely, 
 and with equal justice, that our duties toward ourselves are 
 but a part of our duties toward God : for duty itself, in its 
 highest conception, being to reach after the highest possible 
 perfection, we can say, with Plato, that virtue is the imitation 
 of God ; that, consequently, man owes it to himself to re- 
 semble God as much as possible, and that, conversely, he 
 owes God, as the type of supreme perfection, to draw ever 
 nearer to him through self-improvement. But how could he 
 seek to draw nearer to God's supreme perfection if he did not 
 entertain for him the feehngs of love and respect, which con- 
 stitute what we, in general, call religious sentiment 1 
 
 168. Duties toward God. — Analysis of the religious 
 sentiment. — Wliat is called duties toward God is nothing 
 else than the different acts by which wo endeavor to bring 
 about, cultivate, develop in us, or in others, religious senti- 
 ment. When these acts are external, and take a certain defi- 
 nite form, they constitute wliat is called outward worshi]), and 
 are consequent upon positive religions. When they are con- 
 centrated in the soul, and confined to sentiments, they con- 
 stitute what is called i'/irier ivorship. The virtue which cor- 
 responds to these inner acts and sentiments is called jjiety.
 
 EELIGIOUS MOEALITT. ' 303 
 
 The duties toward God being thus blended Avith religious 
 sentiment we must, in order to set thcni forth, first analyze 
 this sentiment. 
 
 Religious sentiment is composed of two elements : one 
 which may be called metaphysical ;* the other, 7noral. 1. Met- 
 aphysically, the love of God is the sentiment of the infinite, 
 the need of attaching ourselves to the absolute, the eternal, 
 the immutable, the true in itself — in one word, to Being. The 
 thinking man, and even the thoughtless man, looking at him- 
 self, finds himself small, feeble, miserable. " Oh ! " exclaims 
 Bossuet, " how much we are nothing ! " " Man becomes vile 
 to himself, " says St. Bernard. " Man feels that he is frail, 
 that his life hangs but on a thread, that he is constantly pass- 
 ing away. The goods of the world are perishable. The 
 fashion of this world passeth away. We neither know who 
 we are, whence we come, whither we are going, nor what sus- 
 tains us during the short period of our lives. AVe are sus- 
 pended between heaven and earth : between two infinities ; 
 we stand as on quicksands." All these strong expressions of 
 mystics and religious writers admirably express the need we 
 stand in of the absolute, the immutable, the perfect, — a need 
 felt more particidarly by devout minds, but which all men, 
 Avithout exception, experience in some degree or other, and 
 which they endeavor to satisfy the best they can. All our 
 efforts to reach the ab.solute in science, in art, in politics even, 
 are but the forms in which this need of the absolute manifests 
 itself. The insatiable pursuit of the gratification of the pas- 
 sions even is, also, under a vain appearance, the same need. It 
 is tills feeling of the eternal and the infinite, which the greatest 
 metaphysicians all regarded as the ultimate foundation of 
 morality. Plato, Plotinus, Malebranche, Spinoza, all enjoin 
 upon us to seek eternal, in preference to perishable, goods. 
 
 * Metaphysic^s is the science which treats of wliat is beyond and above nature. We 
 call metap/ij/sicai such attributes of God by which he surpasses nature; as, for in- 
 stance, infinitude, immensity ; the moral attributes, on the contrary, are those which 
 have their analogies in the human soul, such as kindness, wisdom, etc.
 
 304 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 This sentiment, conscious of ever striving after the substance 
 of good and not its shadow, is the profoundest, nearest, and 
 dearest element of religious sentiment. 
 
 2. Thus much in regard to the metaphysical element of 
 religion : next conies the moral element. God does not only 
 appear to the human soul as a being infinite, inexhaustible, 
 eternal. The soul wants him nearer, and in her respectful 
 boldness she calls him Father. Man is not only feeble and 
 imperfect ; he is also a sinner and a sufferer ; evil is his con- 
 dition. The frailty of our being and its narrow limits are 
 already an evil ; but these are the least of evils ; humanity 
 suffers, furthermore, from a double evil far more real and poig- 
 nant : pain and sin. Against physical pain, suifering, it has 
 but the feeble resource of prudence ; against moral evil it has 
 but one means of defense, very weak also — free-will. It would 
 seem that we are the masters of the universe ; but experience 
 shows, on the contrary, that we are the feeblest among its creat- 
 ures ; often does the will succumb ; and Kant himself, despite 
 his stoicism, asks whether indeed a single act of virtue has 
 ever been accomplished in the world. Life, on the whole, 
 notwithstanding its grand aspects and its few exquisite and 
 sublime joys, life is bad ; all ends badly, and death, which 
 puts an end to all evils, is yet the greatest of evils. " The 
 human soul," says Plato, " like a bird, raises its eyes to 
 heaven," and calls for a remedy, a help, a deliverance. " Deliver 
 us from evil," is the cry of every religion. God is the liber- 
 ator and comforter. We love what is good and we do what 
 is evil ; wo impatiently desire happiness, and meet with noth- 
 ing but wretchedness. Such is the contradiction Pascal 
 points out with such incisive eloquence. This contradiction 
 must be removed. Hope and trust in a supreme and benev- 
 olent Being must ransom us from pain and sin. 
 
 Many persons place the essence of religion in the belief in 
 a future life, nr immortality of the soul. "Who, without the 
 hope of gaining i)aradise, would think of God? But this is a 
 contradiction in terms. Paradise, for the true believer, is
 
 RELIGIOUS MOEALITY. 305 
 
 nothing ; God, everything. If a future life is a necessary con- 
 sequence of the divine justice and bounty, we need not doubt 
 its existence ; if not, we have nothing to ask ; it does not 
 concern us, "Wliat e&pecially concerns us is to know what we 
 ought to do here below, and to have the strength to do it with. 
 " Life is a meditation, not of death, hut of life," said Spinoza. 
 But in order to live, and live well, one must believe in life, 
 must beheve in its healthy and holy significance, believe 
 that it is not mere play, a mere mystification, but that it was 
 given us by the principle of good for the success of good. 
 
 The essence of religion, then, is a belief in the goodness of 
 God. A German critic, Feuerbach, said with great effect, 
 that religion consisted in divinizing human attributes. Thus: 
 God is good, means according to him : goodness is divine. 
 God is just, sig-nifies : justice is divine. The boldness of 
 Christianity, its profound, pathetic beauty, its great moral 
 efficacy lie in the fact that it has divinized our miseries ; and 
 that, instead of saying, pain is divine, death is divine, it has 
 said : God has suffered, God has died. In a word, according 
 to the same author, God " is the human heart divinized." 
 Nothing could be more true and beautiful, only in another 
 sense than that in which the author takes it. If God himself 
 was not supreme goodness, the heart of man would then con- 
 tain something divine, and God Avould not himself be divine ! 
 The heart feels that it exceeds all things, but, in order to 
 believe in itself, it must know itself coming from a higher and 
 purer source than it is itself. 
 
 " In thinking of such a being (God), man experiences a sentiment 
 which is above all a religious sentiment. Every man, as we come into 
 contact with him, awakens in us a feeling of some kind, according to 
 the qualities we perceive in him, and should not He who possesses all 
 perfections excite in us the strongest of feelings ? If we think of the 
 infinite essence of God, if we are thoroughly impressed by his omnipo- 
 tence, if we remember that the moral law expresses his \d\\, and that ho 
 has attached to the fulfillment and violation of this law, rewards and 
 punishments which he distributes with inflexible justice, we must of 
 necessity experience before such greatness emotions of respect and fear. 
 If next we come to consider that this omnipotent being was pleased to
 
 30G ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 create us, we, whom ho had no need of, and that in creating us he 
 heaped upon us benefits of all kinds, that he has given us this universe 
 to enjoy its over renewed beauties, that he has given us society that our 
 life may become enlarged in that of our fellow-beings, that he has given 
 us reason to think, a heart to love, liberty to act, that same respect 
 and fear will receive additional strength from a still gentler sentiment, 
 namely, that of love. Love, when directed toward feeble and circum- 
 scribed beings, inspires us with the desire to do them good : but, in 
 itself, love does not especially consider the advantage of the person 
 beloved : we love a thing, good or beautiful, simply because it is good 
 or beautiful, and without thought of benefiting it ; or benefiting our- 
 selves. How much more so when this love is turned to God, as a pure 
 homage to his perfections ; when it is the natural outpouring of the 
 soul toward a being infinitely adorable. 
 
 "Adoration consists in respect and love. If man, however, sees in 
 God the omnipotent master of heaven and earth only, the source of all 
 justice and the avenger of all wrong, he will, in his weakness, be 
 crushed by the overwhelming weight of Goil's greatness : he will be 
 living a life of perpetual fear, from the uncertainty of the judgment of 
 God ; he will conceive for this woihl and life, always so full of misery, 
 nothing but hatred. Read Pascal's Thoughts. Pascal, in his superb 
 humility, forgets two things : the dignity of man and the goodness of 
 God. If, on the other hand, man only sees in God a kind and indulgent 
 Father, he will run into a chimerical mysticism. In .substituting love 
 for fear, there is danger of losing the awe which we should have for hiTU. 
 God is then no longer a master, scarcely a father even ; for tlie idea of 
 father carries with it, in a certain degree, that of a respectful fear : he is 
 nothing more than a friend. True adoration does not sever love from 
 respect : it is respect animated by love. 
 
 " Adoration is a universal sentiment ; it differs in degrees according to 
 the differences in human nature ; it takes the greatest variety of forms ; 
 it often does not even know itself; sometimes it betrays itself by a sud- 
 den exclamation, a cry from the heart over the grand scenes of nature 
 and life ; sometimes it rises silently in the deeply-moved and dumb- 
 stricken soul ; it may in its expression mistake its aim ; but funda- 
 mentally it is always the same. It is a spontaneous and irresistible 
 yearning of the soul, which reason must declare just and legitimate. 
 What more just, in fact, than to fear the judgments of Him who is holi- 
 ness itself, who knows our actions and our intentions, and who will 
 judge them as it becomes supreme justice ? What more just, also, than 
 to love perfect goodness and the source of all love ? Adoration is first 
 a natural sentiment : reason makes of it a duty." * 
 
 * V. Cousin, Le Vrai, le Beau el Ic Bicn, xvi« IcQon.
 
 RELIGIOUS MORALITY. 307 
 
 These two sentiments, love and respect, may, inasmuch as 
 they relate to God— that is to say, to an infinite being — be re- 
 solved into one, which we call veneration. Veneration is the 
 respect mixed with love which we feel for our aged parents, 
 for some exalted virtue, for devotion to a suifering country ; 
 but it is only through extension we so understand it : its true 
 object, its proper domain, is the divinity; * and if there are 
 other objects to he revered and venerated, it is because we 
 detect in them something august and sacred. 
 
 It will, perhaps, be said that sentiments cannot be erected 
 into duties : for how can I force myself to feel what I do not 
 feel ? Acts can be commanded, but not sentiments. 
 
 This is true ; but the acts, in the first place, are nothing 
 Avithout the sentiments, and if piety is not already in the 
 heart, the most pious works will have no virtue. Moreover, 
 if it be true that it is impossible to generate, either in one's 
 self or in others, sentiments, the germs of which do not exist 
 in human nature, it is not true that sentiments in conformity 
 with this nature, and which, whilst we believe them completely 
 absent, may only be dormant, could not be excited, awakened, 
 cultivated, and developed. Now, it is enough to think of 
 divine greatness, to experience a feeling of fear and respect ; 
 it is enough to think of divine perfection, to love this perfec- 
 tion, and seek to come nearer to it. Duty here consists, then, 
 in thinking of God, in giving this great thought a part of our 
 life, in uniting it with all the acts of that life : these senti- 
 ments will, then, be generated and will expand of themselves. 
 
 169. Piety united with all the acts of life : indirect duties 
 toward God. — We have just said that the idea of God can 
 be united with all the acts of life. Every action being the 
 fulfillment of the will of Providence, can be both moral and 
 religious. He who worlis, prays, says the proverb; a life which 
 strives to preserve itself pure and viituous, is a continuous 
 
 * See Dictionnaire de V Academie fmngaise (7« edition, 1S7S) : " Veneration, respect 
 for holy things. It is also said of the respectful esteem in wliich certain persons 
 are held."
 
 308 ELEMEifTS OF MORALS. 
 
 prayer. In this sense, all our duties are indirect duties toward 
 God. 
 
 1. OhediencQ to God, manifested by obedience to moral law. 
 I can obey the moral law in two ways : on the one hand, be- 
 cause it is a duty, whatever besides may be the reason of this 
 duty, and next because this duty is in unison Avith universal 
 order, which is the work of divine wisdom. To fulfill one's 
 duty is, then, to co-operate in some respect with God in the 
 achievement of this order. It is thus that in ancient religions, 
 agriciilture was regarded a religious act, because man took 
 therein the part of the creator. 
 
 2. ResignatioJi to the 'will of Providence. — Patience is un- 
 questionably a duty in itself. There is a lack of dignity in 
 rebelling against evils which cannot be prevented ; but this is 
 as yet a wholly negative virtue. It becomes a religious virtue 
 if we regard the ills of life in the light of trials, and as the 
 condition of a higher good, and expect to voluntarily submit 
 to them as being in the plan of Providence. It is thus the 
 Pythagoreans forbade suicide, saying that it was leaving the 
 post in which God had placed us. 
 
 It would, moreover, be interpreting this duty of resigna- 
 tion very falsely to think that it commands us to bear trouble 
 and make no effort to escape it. This were confounding Provi- 
 dence with fatalism. On the contrary, God, having given us 
 free will, not only permits us thereby, but even positively en- 
 joins upon us, to use it in bettering our condition. 
 
 3. Love of God conjoined with the love of man. — There is 
 no real love of God without love of neighbor ; it is a false 
 piety which thinks itself obliged to sacrifice the love of men 
 to the love of God : thence come fanaticism, intolerance, per- 
 secidion. To believe these to be religious virtues is impious. 
 "We cannot please God by acts of hatred and cruelty. Thus 
 is the love of God nothing without the love of men. 
 
 But it can also Ije said that the love of men is incomplete 
 if it does not get its sustenance from a higher source, which is 
 the love of God. We can, in fact, love men in tvro ways :
 
 RELIGIOUS MORALITY. 309 
 
 first, because they arc men, because thev are like us, because 
 there is between them and us a natural bond of sympathy. 
 But -we can also love them because they are, like ourselves, 
 members of the universe of which God is the sovereign ruler, 
 members of a family of which God is the father, because, like 
 ourselves, they reflect some of the attributes of supreme per- 
 fection, because they ought, like us, to strive after all per- 
 fection. We can then love men religiously, love them in 
 God in some respect. Thus conversely to love men will be 
 loving God. 
 
 170. The idea of God in morals. — We have, in a former 
 course of lectures, seen how the moral law is related to God : 
 this law is certainly not dependent on his will alone, but on 
 his holiness and supreme perfection ; and it is still further 
 related to him as to a supreme sanction. We have to consider 
 here only the practical epi^acy of the idea of God — that is to 
 say, the additional strength moral belief receives by a belief 
 in absolute justice and holiness. It is on this condition and 
 from this standpoint that Kant has called the existence of 
 God the postulate * of the moral law. The moral law, in fact, 
 supposes the world able to conform to this law ; but how are 
 we to believe in such a possibility if this world were the effect 
 of a blind and indifferent necessity ? " Since it is our duty," 
 says Kant, " to work toward the realization of the supreme 
 good, it is not only a right, but a necessity flowing from this 
 duty, to suppose the possibility of this supreme good, wdiich 
 good is only possible on the condition of God's existencef . . . 
 — "Suppose, for example," he .saj's elsewhere, "an honest man 
 like Spinoza, firmly convinced that there is no God and no 
 future life. He will, without doubt, fidfiU disinterestedly the 
 duty that holy law imposes on his activity ; but his efforts 
 will be limited. If here and there he finds in nature ac- 
 cidental co-operation, he can never expect of this co-operation 
 
 * A postulate is a truth which, although it cannot be rigorously demonstrated 
 should, nevertheless, by reason of the neces.sity of its consequences, be practically 
 admitted. 
 
 t Kant, CnVqw d' h raiwn pratique, II., ii. Trad, dc J. B-irni, p. 334.
 
 310 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 to be in perfect and constant accordance with the end he feels 
 himself obliged to pursue. Though honest, peaceful, benev- 
 olent himself, he Avill always be surrounded by fi-aud, vio- 
 lence, envy ; in vain do the good people he meets deserve to 
 be happy ; nature has no regard for their goodness, and ex- 
 poses them, like all the rest of earth's animals, to disease and 
 misery, to a premature death, until one vast tomb— the gulf 
 of bhnd matter from which they issiied — swallows them all 
 up again. Thus woiild this righteous man be obliged to give 
 up as absolutely impossible the end which the law imposed 
 on him ; or, if he wished to remain true to the inner voice of 
 his moral destiny, he will, from a practical point of view, be 
 obliged to recognize the existence of a moral cause in the 
 world, namely, God." Thus, according to Kant, is religion, 
 namely, the belief in the existence of God, recjuired, not as a 
 theoretical basis for morality, but as a practical basis. " The 
 righteous man can say : I loill that there be a God." * 
 
 It may be objected that moral law can dispense with out- 
 ward success ; that it does not appear to be essential to the 
 idea of that law ; that the wise, as far as their own happi- 
 ness is concerned, need not consider it, can ignore it. But 
 "what they are obliged to consider, and are not allowed to ig- 
 nore, is the happiness of others, and what is generally under- 
 stood by progress — the possible improvement of the race. If, 
 as some pessimistic and misanthropic philosophers seem to 
 think, men will never be anything more than monkeys or 
 tigers given to the lowQst and most ferocious instincts, do you 
 believe that any man, be he ever so well endowed morally, 
 ever so deeply convinced of the obligation of the law of duty, 
 could, if he believed such a thing, be able to continue doing 
 his duty, a duty followed by no appreciable or perceptible 
 results 1 The lirst condition for becoming or remaining vir- 
 tuous, is to believe in virtue. But to believe in virtue means 
 to believe that virtue is a fact, that it exists in the world, that 
 it can do it good ; in other words, it is to believe that the 
 
 ♦ Critique dc la raison pratique ; trad, fr., p. 363.
 
 RELIGIOUS MORALITY. 311 
 
 human race was created for good ; tliat nature is capable of 
 being transformed according to the law of good; it is, in 
 short, to believe that the universe obeys a principle of good, 
 and not a principle of evil — an Oromazes, not an Ahrimanes. 
 As to believing in an indifferent being, one that were neither 
 good nor evil, we should not be any better off; it would 
 leave us just as uncertain in regard to the possible success 
 of our efforts, and just as doubtful about the worth of our 
 moral beliefs. 
 
 In one word, and to conclude, if God were an illusion, why 
 could not virtue be an illusion also ? In order that I may be- 
 lieve in the dignity and excellence of my soul and that of 
 other men, I must believe ia a supreme principle of dignity 
 and excellence. Xothing comes from nothiag. If there is 
 no being to love me and my feUow-men, why should I be held 
 to love them 1 If the world is not good, if it was not created 
 for good, if good is not its origin and end, what have I to do 
 here iu this world, and what care I for that swarm of ants of 
 which I am a part ? Let them get along as well as thej- can ! 
 "Why should I take-so much trouble to so little purpose ? Take 
 any intelligent man, a friend of civU and poHtical liberty, and 
 ready to suffer anything to procure these to his country, as 
 long as he believes the tiling possible, both wisdom and virtue 
 will command liim to devote himself whoUy to it. But let 
 experience prove to him that it is a chimera, that his fellow- 
 citizens are either too great cowards or too vicious to be 
 worthy and capable of the good he wishes to secure to them ; 
 suppose he sees all around him nothing but cupidity, servility, 
 unbridled and abominable passions ; suppose, finally, that he 
 becomes convinced that liberty among men, or at least among 
 the people he lives with, is an illusion, do you think he could, 
 do you even think he should, continue wasting his faculties 
 in an impossible enterprise ? Once more, I can forget myself, 
 and I ought ; and I should leave to internal justice or divine 
 goodness the care to watch over my destinies ; but that which 
 I cannot forget, that which cannot leave me indifferent, is the
 
 312 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 reign of justice on earth. I must be able to say : Let Thy 
 kingdom come ! How can I co-operate with the Divine Idea 
 if there is no God, who, in creating us for the furthering of 
 his kingdom, made it, at the same time, possible for us 1 And 
 how am I to believe that out of that great void whereto athe- 
 ism reduces us, there can come a reign of wills holy and just, 
 bound to each other by the laws of respect and love ? Kant, 
 the great stoic, without borrowing from theology, has more 
 strongly than any other, described the necessity of this reign 
 of law ; but he fully understood that this abstract and ideal 
 order of thmgs would remain but a pure conception, if there 
 Avere not conjoined with it what he justly calls " the prac- 
 tical, the moral faith " in the existence of God. 
 
 171. Religious rights. — Religious duties imply religious 
 rights : for if it is a duty to honor the Creator, it is also a 
 right. Even those who do not admit obligations toward God, 
 ought to respect in those who do admit them, their liberty 
 to do so. The right of having a religion, and practicing it, 
 is what is called liberty of conscience. 
 
 " The first right I claim," says an eloquent Avriter, " is the 
 right of adopting a free belief touching the nature of God, my 
 duties, my future ; it is a wholly interior right, which governs 
 the relations of my will or conscience alone. It is tlie liberty 
 of conscience in its essence, its first act, its indispensable basis. 
 It is the liberty to believe, ov faith. Free in the innermost of 
 my thought, shall I be confined to a silent worship ? Shall I 
 not be allowed to express what I think 1 Faith is communi- 
 cative, and will make itself felt by others. I cannot control 
 its expressing itself without doing it violence, without offend- 
 ing God, without rendering myself guilty of ingratitude. I 
 cannot, moreover, worship a God that is not my God. The 
 freedom of belief, without the freedom of prayer — that is to 
 say, without free worship — is only a delusion. 
 
 " Now, is prayer sufficient ? Does this solitary expression of 
 my faith, my love, my ignorance, suffice the wants of my 
 licart and my duties toward God ? Yes, if man were made to
 
 RELIGIOUS MORALITY. 313 
 
 live alone ; but not if he has brethren. I am a social being ; 
 1 have duties toward society as well as toward God; my 
 creed commands me to teach as well as to pray. My voice 
 must be heard, and I must, following my destiny, and ac- 
 cording to the measure of my powers, carry along with me all 
 those who are inclined to follow me. This is the liberty of 
 promulgating one's creed, or, in other words, the liberty of 
 propagandisin. 
 
 " Worship, then, means to believe, to pray, to teach. But, 
 can I consider myself a free believer, if praying in public be 
 denied me ; if by praying, and teaching, and confessing my 
 doctrine, I risk the loss of my rights as man and citizen 1 
 There are other means for checking public worship and 
 apostleship than burning at the stake. It is obvious that, in 
 order no injustice be done to my particular creed, I should 
 risk nothing by it ; that I be not deprived of any of my civil 
 or political rights. AW this is included in the term liberty of 
 conscience : it is at the same time the right to believe, the 
 right to pray, and the right to exercise this triple liberty with- 
 out having to suffer any diminution in one's dignity as man 
 and citizen."* 
 
 172. Religious society. — Eeligious duties and rights 
 give rise to what may ha called religious society. Fenelon 
 has magnificently described the ideal religious society where 
 all would form but one family united by the love of God and 
 men. 
 
 "Do we not see," he saj's, "that the external worship follows 
 necessarily the internal worship of love ? Give me a society of men 
 who, while on earth, would look upon each other as members of one 
 and the same family, whose Father is in heaven ; give me men whose 
 life was sunk in this love for their heavenly Father, men who loved 
 their fellow-men and themselves only through love for Him ; who were 
 but one heart, one soul : will not in so godly a society the mouth always 
 speak from the abundance of the heart ? They will sing the praises of 
 
 * Jules Simon, La Liberie de Conxclencc, i" legon (Paris, 1S57).— We have borrowed 
 some few passages of another book of the same autlior, La Liberie (Vol. ii., 4°, part 1, 
 ch. 1). 
 
 U
 
 3] 4 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 the Most High, the Most Good spontaneously ; they will bless Him for 
 all His bounties. They will not be content to love Him merely, they 
 will proclaim this love to all the nations of the world ; they will wish 
 to correct and admonish their brethren when they see them tempted 
 through pride and low passions to forsake the Well-Beloved. They 
 will lament the least cooling of that love. They will cross the seas, go 
 to the uttermost parts of the earth, to teach the benighted nations who 
 have forgotten His gi'eatncss the knowledge and love of their common 
 Father. What do you call external worship if this be not it ? God 
 then would be all in all ; He would be the universal king, father, 
 friend ; He would be the living law of all hearts. Truly, if a mortal 
 king or head of a family \vins by his wisdom the esteem and confidence 
 of liis children, if we see them at all times pay him the honors due 
 him, need we ask wherein consists his service, or whether any is due 
 him? All that is done in his honor, in obedience to him, in recogni- 
 tion of his bounties, is a continuous worship, obvioas to all eyes. 
 What would it be tlien if men were possessed mtli the love of God ! 
 Their society would be in a state of continuous worship, like that de- 
 scribed to us of the blessed in heaven." * 
 
 The great ancient moralist, Epictetus, has as superhly as 
 Fenelon expressed the same sentiments : 
 
 "If we had any understanding, " he says, "ought we not, both in 
 public and in private, incessantly to sing and praise the Deity, and re- 
 hearse His benefits ? Ought we not, whether we dig, or plough, or eat, 
 to sing this hymn to God ? Great is God, who has supplied us with 
 these instruments to till the ground ; great is God, who has given us 
 hands and organs of digestion ; who has given us to grow insensibly, to 
 breathe in sleep. These things we ought forever to celebrate, h,nd to 
 make it the theme of the greatest and divinest hymn that He has given 
 us the power to appreciate these gifts, and to use them well. But be- 
 cause the most of you arc blind and insensible there must be some 
 one to fill this station, and lead in behalf of all men the hymn to 
 God ; for what else can I do, a lame old man, but sing hymns to 
 God ? Were I a nightingale, I would act the part of a nightingale ; 
 were I a swan, the part of a swan. But since I am a reasonable 
 creature it is my duty to praise God. This is my business. I do 
 it. Nor will I ever desert this post, so long as it is permitted me ; 
 and I call on you to join in the same song." f 
 
 • F6nilon. Leitrcs «/r la mitaphysique ct la religion. Letter II., ch. i. 
 t T}ie works of Epictetus. T. W. Higginson's transl., I., xvi.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 MORAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 Means and end. — Moral science should not only point out the end • 
 it should also indicate the means of attaining that end. 
 
 There is, as of the body, a culture of the soul : as, in medicine, we 
 distinguish between t€m,perainents, diseases and their treatments, so do 
 we distinguish in morals, characters, jjossions, and remedies. 
 Of character. — Character as compared with temperament : four prin- 
 cipal types. 
 
 Character at ditferent ages : childhood, youth, manhood, and old age. 
 Passions. — Passions may in one respect be considered as natural affec- 
 tions ; but in a moral jxjint of view they should be considered as 
 diseases. 
 
 The law of passions considered from this last standpoint. Enumer- 
 ation and analysis of these various passions. 
 Culture of the soul, or moral treatment. — Ou the government of 
 passions. — Bossuet's advice : not directly to combat the passions, but 
 to turn them off into other channels. 
 
 Of the formation of character. —Rules of Malebranche : 1, acts 
 produce habits, and habits produce acts ; 2, one can alwaj's act against 
 a ruling habit. 
 
 How is one habit to be substituted for another ? — Aristotle's rule : 
 To go from one extreme to the other. — Bacon's rules : 1, to proceed 
 by degrees ; 2, to choose for a new virtue two kinds of opjwrtunities : 
 the first when one is best disposed, the second when one is least so ; 
 3, not to trust too much to one's conversion and distrust opportuni- 
 ties, 
 
 Benjamin Franklin's Almanac. — Other practices. — Kant's moral 
 catechism. 
 
 We have done with practical morals, the morals, namely, 
 which have for their object the setting forth of man's duties and
 
 316 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 the principal applications of the moral law. The second part of 
 this course of study shall be devoted to the theory of morals, 
 Avhich has for its object the elucidation of principles. But to 
 pass from the one to the other, it seemed to us proper, by way 
 of conclusion, to introduce here an order of researches which 
 belongs to both practical and theoretical morals, the study, 
 namely, of the means man has at his disposal in liis moral 
 self-perfection, either by curing himself of vice, or in advanc- 
 ing in virtue : this is what we call moral medicine and gym- 
 nastics. 
 
 Bacon justly remarks that most moralists are like writing- 
 masters who lay tine copies before their pupils, but tell them 
 nothing of the manner of using the pen and tracing charac- 
 ters. Thus do the philosophers set before us very fine and 
 magnificent models, very faithful and noble pictures of good- 
 ness and virtue, of duties, of happiness ; but they teach us 
 nothing about the means of attaining to such perfection. 
 They make us acquainted with the end, and not with the road 
 that leads to it.* 
 
 Then, presenting us himself a sketch of that portion of mo- 
 rality which does not confine itself to precepts only, but to 
 instructions also, and which he calls the Georgics of the soul 
 (science of the culture and the soul), he tells us that it should 
 be like medicine which considers first the constitution of the 
 patient, then the disease, then the treatment. The same in 
 regard to the soul : there are moral temperaments as there are 
 physical temperaments : these are the characters ; moral dis- 
 eases as there are physical diseases ; these are the passions ; 
 and finally there is a moral treatment as there is a physical 
 treatment, and it is the treatment of morality to indicate tliis 
 treatment. Now, one cannot treat a disease without knowing 
 it and without being acquainted Avith the temperament and 
 constitution of the patient. " A coat cannot be fitted on 
 a body without the tailor's taking first the measure of him for 
 whom he makes it." Hence, it follows that before deciding 
 
 * De AugrMnlis Scientiarum, III., i. and lii.
 
 MORAL MEDiniNE AXD GYMKASTICS. 317 
 
 on a remedy, one must acquaint liimseK with the characters 
 and passions. 
 
 173. Of character. — The study of character is hardly sus^ 
 ceptible of a methodical classification. Passions, manners, 
 habits are so complicated and so intermixed in individuals that 
 they atford scarcely a chance to faithfully describe them, and 
 this subject, though very fertile, is more of the province of 
 literature than of science. Theophrastus among the ancients, 
 and La Bruyere among the moderns, have excelled in this 
 kind of description ; but it woukl be very difficult to analyze 
 their works, as they have nothing didactic : they are better 
 suited for reading. Theophrastus describes dissemblers, flat- 
 terers, intruders, rustics, parasites, babblers, the superstitious, 
 misers, the proud, slanderers, etc. All these are unquestion- 
 ably principal types of human character, but they cannot be 
 strictly brought down to a few elementary types. La Bruyere 
 is still further removed ; he does not only treat character, but 
 manners also ; he describes individiials rather than men in 
 general, or it is always in the individual that he sees the man. 
 Hence the charm and piquancy of his pictures ; but moral sci- 
 ence finds scarcely anything to borrow from him. 
 
 Kant tried to give a theory of character, and he started 
 with the same idea as Bacon, namely, the analogy between 
 characters and temperaments; thus did he confine himself to 
 taking up again the old physiological theory of temperaments 
 and apply it to the moral man. He distinguishes two kinds 
 of temperaments : temperaments of sentiment, and tempera- 
 ments of adivitij ; and in each of these two kinds, two 
 degrees or two difi"erent shades : exaltation or abatement. 
 Hence, four different kinds of temperaments : the sanguine 
 and the melancholy (temperament of sentiment), the choleric 
 and phlegmatic (temperament of activity). Kant describes 
 these four temperaments or characters as follows :* 
 
 " The sanrfuine disposition may be recognized by the fol- 
 lowing indications : The sanguine man is free from care and 
 
 * Kant, Anthmpologie. Trad, franc, de Tissot, p. 27.
 
 318 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 of good hope ; he gives to things at one moment undue im- 
 portance ; at another, he can no longer think of them. He is 
 splendid in his promises, but does not keep them, because he 
 has not sufficiently reflected whether he will be able to keep 
 them or not. He is Avell enough disposed to help others, but is 
 a poor debtor and always asks for delays. He is good company, 
 cheerful, lively, takes things easily, and is everybody's friend. 
 He is not usually a bad person, but a conflrmed sinner, hard 
 to convert, and who, though he will repent, Avill never allow 
 this repentance to turn into grief : it is soon again forgotten. 
 He is easily tired by work ; yet is he constantly occupied, 
 and that, for the reason that his work being but play, it 
 proves a change which suits him, as perseverance is not in his 
 nature. 
 
 "The melancholy man gives to everything concerning him a 
 vast importance ; the least trifles give him anxiety, and his 
 whole attention is fixed upon the difficulties of things. Con- 
 trary to the sanguine, always hopeful of success, but a super- 
 ficial thinker, the melancholy is a profound thinker. He 
 is not hasty in his promises because he intends keeping 
 them, and he considers carefidly wdiether he Avill be able to 
 do so. He distrusts and takes thought of things which the 
 sanguine passes carelessly by ; he is no philanthropist, for the 
 reason that he who denies himself pleasure is rarely inclined 
 to wish it to others. 
 
 "The choleric man is easily excited and as easily appeased • 
 he flares up like a straw fire ; but submission soon softens him 
 dfiwu; he is then irritable without hatred, and loves him Avho 
 readily gives up to him, all the more ardently. He is prompt 
 in his actions, but his activity does not last long ; he is n^er 
 idle, yet not industrious. His ruling passion is honors ; he 
 likes to meddle with public aflairs, to hear himself praised ; 
 lie is for show and ceremonial. He is fond of playing the 
 I)art of a protector and to appear generous; but not from a feel- 
 ing of affection, but of pride, for he loves himself much more 
 than he loves others. He is passionately given to money
 
 MOEAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 319 
 
 making ; in society lie is a ceremonious courtier, stiff, and ill 
 at ease, and ready to accept any flatterer to serve liiui as a 
 shield ; in a word, the choleric temperament is the least happy 
 of all because it is the one that meets with most opposition. 
 " The 2M£gmatic temper. Phlegm means absence of emo- 
 tion. The phlegmatic man to whom nature has given a cer- 
 tain quantum of reason, resembles the man who acts on prin- 
 ciple, although he owes this disposition to instinct only. His 
 happy temperament stands to him in lieu of wisdom, and 
 often in ordinary life he is called a philosopher. Sometimes 
 even he is thought cunning, because all abuse launched at 
 him bounces back again, as a ball from a sack of wool. He 
 makes a pretty good husliand, and, whilst pretending to do 
 every one's will, he governs both wife and servants as he 
 likes, for he knows how to bring their wishes in agreement 
 with his own indomitable but thoughtful will." 
 
 There are then, according to Kant, four essentially distinct 
 characters: the sanguine, playful, kindly, superficial; the mel- 
 ancholy, profound, sad, egotistical ; the choleric, ardent, pas- 
 sionate, ambitious, covetous ; the phlegmatic, cold, moderate, 
 inflexible. 
 
 Kant denies that these four kinds of temperaments can 
 combine with each other ; " there are but four in all," he 
 says, " and each of them is complete in itself." It seems to 
 us, on the contrary, that experience shows that no one of these 
 characters exists separately in an absolute manner ; there is 
 always to some degree a mixture, and different men are gener- 
 ally distinguished by the leading feature in their character. 
 
 We must, however, make a distinction between disposition 
 and character. To be of such or such a disposition is not 
 always being a man of character. The first of these two ex- 
 pressions signifies the various aptitudes, inclinations, or habits 
 which distinguish a man from others ; the second signifies 
 that strength of will, that empire over himself which enables 
 a man to follow faithfully the line of conduct he has chosen, 
 and to bravely resist temptations. Character is not always
 
 320 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 virtue (for it may be controlled by false and vicious princi- 
 ples), but it is its condition. 
 
 " That tendency of the will M'hich acts according to fixed 
 principles (and does not move from this to that, like a fly) is 
 soniethuig truly estimable, and which deserves all the more 
 admiration as it is extremely rare. The question here is not 
 of what nature makes of man, but of what man makes of him- 
 self. Talent has a venal value which allows making use of 
 the man therewith endowed ; temperament has an affection- 
 value which makes of him an agreeable companion and pleas- 
 ant talker ; but character has a value which ])laces him above 
 all these things."* 
 
 174. Age. — To this classification of characters according to 
 temperaments, may be added that founded on age. In fact, 
 difl'erent ages have, as it is well known, very different char- 
 acteristics. Aristotle f Avas the first to describe the diflerences 
 in men's morals according to their ages, and he has since 
 been very often imitated. 
 
 " I. Theyouu(j. — The young are in their dispositions prone 
 to desire, and of a character to effect what they desire. And 
 they desire with earnestness, but speedily cease to desire ; 
 for their wishes are keen, without being durable ; just like 
 the hunger and thirst of the sick. And the^ are passionate 
 and in-itable, and of a temperament to follow the impulse. 
 And they cannot overcome their anger ; for by reason of their 
 ambition, they do not endure a slight, but become indignant, 
 and fancy themselves injured ; and they are ambitious indeed 
 of honor, but more so of victory ; for youth is desirous of su- 
 periority, and victory is a sort of superiority. And they are 
 credulous, from their never having yet been much imposed 
 on. And they are sanguine in their expectations ; for, like 
 those who are aifected by wine, so the young are warmed by 
 tlicir nature; and at the same time from their having never 
 
 * Kant gives ingenious examples of these three degrees of action. See liis An- 
 thropoloijische chnrakteristik. 
 t Aristotle's lihclunc, book II., ch. xii., xiii., xiv., Bohn's translation.
 
 t> 
 
 MORAL MEDICINF AND GYMNASTICS. 021 
 
 yet met with many repulses. Their life too, for the most 
 part, is one of hope ; for hope is of that which is yet to be, 
 while memory is of that which is passed : but to the young, 
 that which is yet to be is long ; but that which has passed is 
 short. And they are brave rather to an excess ; for they are 
 irritable and sanguine, qualities, the one whereof cancels fear, 
 and the other inspires courage ; for while no one who is af- 
 fected by anger ever is afraid, the being in hope of some good 
 is a thing to give courage. And they are bashful ; for they 
 do not as yet conceive the honorable to be anything distinct ■ 
 and they are high-minded ; for they have not as yet been 
 humbled by the course of life, but are inexperienced in per- 
 emptory circumstances ; again, high-mindedness is the deeming 
 one's self worthy of much ; and this belongs to persons of san- 
 guine expectations. And they prefer succeeding in an honor- 
 able sense rather than in points of expediency ; for they live 
 more in conformity to moral feeling than to mere calculations ; 
 and calculation is of the expedient, moral excellence, however, 
 of that which is honorable. Again, they are f(md of friends 
 and companions, by reason of their delighting in social inter- 
 course. And all their errors are on the side of excess ; for 
 their friendships are in excess, their hatreds are in excess, 
 and they do everything else with the same degree of earnest- 
 ness ; they think also that they know everything, and firmly 
 asseverate that they do ; for this is the cause of their pushing 
 everything to an excess. They are likewise prone to pity ; 
 and they are also fond of mirth, on which account they are 
 also of a facetious turn." 
 
 " II. The old. — Those who are advanced in life are of dis- 
 positions in most points the very opposite of those of the 
 young. Since by reason of their having lived many years, 
 and having been deceived in the greater number of instances, 
 and having come to the conclusion, too, that the majority 
 of human affairs are but worthless, they do not positively 
 asseverate anything, and err in everything more on the side 
 of defect than they ought. And they always ' suppose ' but
 
 322 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 never * knoio ' certainly ; and questioning everything, they 
 always subjoin a 'j^erhaps,' or a ^j)Osm.bli/.' Moreover, they 
 are apt to be suspicious from distrust, and they are distrustful 
 from their experience. And they are pusillanimous from their 
 having been humbled by the course of life ; for they raise 
 their desires to nothing great or vast, but to things only 
 which conduce to support of life. And they are timid and 
 apprehensive of everything ; for their disposition is the reverse 
 of that of the young ; for they have been chilled by years ; 
 and yet they are attached to life, and particularly at its closing 
 day. [They are apt to despond.] And they live more in 
 memory than in hope ; for the remnant of life is brief, and 
 what has passed is considerable. And their desires have, 
 some, abandoned them, the others are faint. They are neither 
 facetious nor fond of mirth. 
 
 " III. Mature age. — Those who are in their prime will, it is 
 evident, be in a mean in point of disposition between the 
 young and the old, subtracting the excesses of each : being 
 neither rash in too great a degree, nor too much given to fear, 
 but keeping themselves right in respect to both. And they 
 are of a tempering coolness joined with spirit, and are spirited 
 not witliout temperate coolness. And thus, in a word, what- 
 ever advantages youth and age have divided between them, 
 the middle age possesses both." 
 
 "We must admit that Aristotle, who has so admirably de- 
 picted young and old men, is weak on the subject of man- 
 hood. Boileau, translating Horace, makes of it a far more 
 clear anil exact picture : 
 
 " Manhood, more ripe, puts on a wiser look, succeeds with 
 those in p(j\ver, intrigues, and spares itself, thinks of hold- 
 ing its own against the blows of fate, and far on in the now 
 looks forth to the to be." 
 
 175. Passions. — Character, considered from a strictly 
 philosophical .standpoint, is nothing more than the various 
 combinations which the i)assions, whether natural or ac- 
 quired, which exist in man, form in each individual, so that
 
 MORAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 
 
 there is, in some respect, double reason for treating thv 
 subjects separately. But, in the first place, the divers \ 
 ments of the soul take, by usage, the name of passions,\ ^ 
 when they reach a certain degree of acuteness, and, as Bacon 
 puts it, of disease. Tn the second, passions are the elements 
 which in divers quantities and proportions compose what is 
 termed character ; it is from this double point of view that 
 we must speak of them separately. 
 
 If we consider the passions from a psychological* stand- 
 point, we shall hnd that they are nothing more than the 
 natural inclinations of the human heart. 
 
 AVe have to consider them here especially from a patholog- 
 ical point of view (if it may be permitted to say so), that is, 
 as diseases of the human heart. 
 
 The character of passions regarded as diseases, is the fol- 
 lowing : 
 
 1. They are exdmive. A man who has become enslaved 
 by a passion, will know nothing else, w^ill listen to nothing 
 else ; he will sacriHce to that passion not only his reason 
 and his duty, but his other inclinations, and even his other 
 passions also. The passion of gambling or of drinking Avill 
 stifle all the rest, ambition, love, even the instinct of self- 
 preservation. 
 
 2. Passion, as a disease, is in a violent condition ; it is im- 
 petuous, disordered, very like insanity. 
 
 3. Although there may be fits of passion, sudden and fleet- 
 ing, which rise and fall again in the same instant, Ave generally 
 give the name of passions only to movements which have be- 
 come hahitiud. Passions then are habits ; apphed to things 
 base, they become vices. 
 
 4. There is a diagnosis! of passions as there is of diseases. 
 They betray themselves outwardly by external signs which 
 are their symptoms (acts, gestures, physiognomy), and in- 
 
 * Psychology is the science which treats of the faculties and operations of the 
 soul. 
 
 t Diagnosis in medicine is the art of determining a disease by means of the sjTnp' 
 toms or signs it presents.
 
 324 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 warclly, by first indications or what was formerly called prod- 
 romes, which are their forerunners (disturbance, agitation, etc.). 
 
 5. Passion, like disease, has its history : it has its regular 
 course, its crisis, and termination. The Iiuitation of Jesus 
 Christ gives in a few words the history of a passion : " In the 
 beginning a simple thought presents itself to the mind ; this 
 is followed by a vivid fancy ; then comes delectation, a bad 
 impulse, and finally the consent. Thus does the evil one 
 gradually enter the soul." * 
 
 6. It is rare that a passion arises and develops without ob- 
 stacles and resistance. Hence that state we have called 
 fluctucdion (Vol. I., p. 167), and which has so often been com- 
 pared to the ebb and flow of the sea. 
 
 These general features of the passions being stated, let us 
 make a brief sketch of the principal passions. 
 
 It may be said that our passions pass through three distinct 
 states ; they are at first natural and unavoidable affections 
 of the mind: inclinations, tendencies ; they become next vio- 
 lent and unruly movements : these are the passions properly 
 so-called ; they become habits and embodied in the character, 
 and take the name of qualities and defects, virtues and vices. 
 But it is to be noted that whilst we can always distinguish 
 these three states theoretically, language is, for the most part, 
 inadequate to express them ; for men have designated these 
 moral states only according to the necessities of practice, and 
 not according to the rules of theory. 
 
 The three states which we have just pointed out, can be 
 very clearly distinguished in the first of the aff'ections of 
 human nature, namely, the instinct of self-preservation. This 
 instinct is at first a natural, legitimate, necessary afi'ection of 
 the human heart ; but by the force of circumstances, the in- 
 fluence of age, disease, temperament, it develops out of propor- 
 tion into a state of passion, and becomes what we cdWfear; 
 or else it turns into a habit and becomes the vice we call 
 cowardice. 
 
 ♦ ImltatioH of Jesus Citrist, I., xii.
 
 MOEAL MEDICTXE AXD GYMNASTICS. 325 
 
 Physical self-preservation is inseparable from two appetites 
 called hunger and thirst. These two appetites, too much in- 
 dulged in, become passions, which themselves may become 
 vices. But language fails here to express their various shades : 
 there is only one word to express the passion or vice related 
 to eating and drinking : it is on the one hand gluttony, and on 
 the other drunkenness ; * both these vices, and in general all 
 undue surrender to sensual pleasures, is called intemperance. 
 
 The source of all our personal inclinations is the love for 
 ourselves or self-love, a legitimate instinct when kept within 
 bounds ; but when carried to excess, when exclusive and pre- 
 dominant, it becomes the vice we call selfishness. 
 
 Self-esteem, developed into a passion, becomes, when it 
 turns' upon great things, /aZsepn'f^e; when upon small, vanity. 
 
 The love of liberty degenerates into a spirit of revolt ; the 
 legitimate love of power, into ambition ; the instinct of ijropeiiy 
 becomes greed, cupidity, passion for gain, and tends to run 
 into the passion for gambling or the desire to gain by means 
 of chance. The desire for gain engenders the fear of loss, and 
 this latter passion developing into a vice and mania, becomes 
 avarice. 
 
 Hun:an inclinations are divided into benevolent and malevo- 
 lent inclinations. The first may develop into a passion, but 
 not into a vice ; the second alone become vices. 
 
 There is not a single benevolent inclination which, carried 
 too far and beyond reason, may not become a more or less 
 blameworthy passion. But, in the first place, we have no 
 terms in our language to express the exaggerations of these 
 kinds of passions,! and in the second, though they be exag- 
 gerations, we shall never call the tenderer affections of the 
 human heart, however foolish they may be, vices, if they are 
 sincere. 
 
 * We should, however, make a distinction between the passion for wine and 
 drunkenness. One can have this passion without giving up to it. Drunkenness is 
 the habit of yielding to it. 
 
 + Sentimentality is false sensibility, and not exaggerated sensibility. Softness is 
 a vague expression. Patriotism may by exaggeration become fanaticism ; but this 
 is equally true of other sentiments — of the religious sentiment, for example.
 
 ^^^ ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 let, may some of these affections become vices when thev 
 mute with personal passion. For example, good nature or 
 the desire to please may lead to obsequious servility, the desire 
 to praise, to flattery, and esteem, to hypocrisy. But these vices 
 partake more of the nature of self-love than of benevolent in- 
 clinations. 
 
 Malevolent passions.-^Mevoleni inclinations give rise to 
 the most terrible passions. Eut are there, indeed, in man 
 naturally malevolent inclinations? Reid, the phdosopher 
 disputes it and justly thinks, as we do, that malevolent pas^ 
 sions are but the abuse of certain personal inclinations in- 
 tended to serve as auxiliaries in the development of our activity 
 ihere are two principal malevolent passions, emulation and 
 anger. 
 
 Emulation is but a special desire for success and superiority 
 This desire, induced by the thought that other men around 
 us have attained to such or such degree of public esteem or 
 power, IS not in itself a malevolent inclination. We may 
 wish to equal and surpass others without, at the same time 
 wishing them any harm. We can experience pleasure in ex^ 
 cellmg them, without exactly rejoicing in their defeat : we 
 can bear being excelled by them without begrudging them 
 their success. 
 
 Emulation then is a personal but not a malevolent senti- 
 ment ; it becomes malevolent and vicious when our feelin-s 
 toward others become inverted : when, for example, we regret 
 not the check we have been made to suffer, but the advan^ 
 age our rivals have gained over us, and when we are unable 
 to bear the idea of the good fortune of others; or again when 
 conversely, we experience more pleasure at their defeat than 
 joy at our own victory. This sentiment, thus perverted, be, 
 comes what is called envy: and envy is generaUy the pain we 
 feel at he good fortune of others ; it is then a sentiment im- 
 plying the wish to see others unhappy ; and is therefore an 
 actual vice, as low as it is odious. 
 
 Mnvy which has some analogy with jealousy must be dis-
 
 MORAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 327 
 
 tinguislied from the latter. Jealousy is a kind of envy which 
 bears especially upon affections it is not allowed to share ; 
 envy, upon material goods, or goods in the abstract (fortune, 
 honors, po\ver). The envious man wants goods he does not 
 possess ; the jealous man refuses to share those which he has. 
 Jealousy is then a sort of selfishness, not as base as envy, since 
 higher goods are in question, but which for its consequences 
 is nevertheless one of the most terrible of passions. 
 
 Anger is a natural passion, which seems to have been be- 
 stowed on us to furnish us an arm against peril ; it is an effort 
 the soul makes to resist an evil it stands in danger of. But 
 this inclination is one of those wliich cause us the quickest to 
 lose our self-possession, and throws us into a sort of moment- 
 ary insanity. Yet, although it is a passion of which the con- 
 sequences may be fatal, it is not necessarily accompanied by 
 hatred (as may be seen by the soldier who will fight furiously 
 and who, immediately after the battle or during a truce, will 
 shake hands with his enemy). Anger then is an effort of nat- 
 ure in the act of self-defense; it is a fever, and as such it is 
 a fatal and culpable passion, but it is not a vice. 
 
 Anger becomes hatred when, thinking of the harm we have 
 done or could do to our enemy, we rejoice over the thought of 
 this harm ; it is called resentment or rancor when it is the 
 spiteful recollection of an injury received ; finally, it becomes 
 the passion of vengeance (the most criminal of all) when it 
 is the desire and hope to return evil for evil. Pleasure at the 
 misfortune of others, when it reaches a certain refinement, 
 even though free from hatred, becomes crrtelti/. 
 
 Hatred changes into contempt when there is joined to it 
 the idea of the baseness and inferiority of the person who is 
 hated. Contempt is a legitimate sentiment when it has 
 for its object base and culpable actions ; it is a bad and 
 blameworthy passion when it bears u])on a pretended inferior- 
 ity, either of birth, or fortune, or talent, and then belongs to 
 false pride. False pride, however, is not always accompanied 
 by contempt. We see men full of self-satisfaction, who yet
 
 338 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 know how to be polite and courteous toward those they regard 
 their inferiors ; others, on the contrary, who look down upon 
 their inferiors and treat them like brutes. Contempt, with 
 such, is added to false pride. A gentler form of contempt is 
 disdain, a sort of delicate and covered contempt. Contempt 
 when it applies itself to set off, not the vices, but the peculi- 
 arities of men, trying to make them appear ridiculous, be- 
 comes raillery or irony. 
 
 Such are the principal affections of the soul viewed as 
 diseases, that is to say, inasmuch as they have need of rem- 
 edies. 
 
 Let us now, to continue Bacon's comparison, pass to their 
 treatment. 
 
 176. Culture of the soul. — After having studied charac- 
 ters and passions, we have to ask ourselves by what means 
 passions may be governed and characters modified or cor- 
 rected. 
 
 177. Bossuet's rule. — As to the first point, namely, the 
 government of the passions, Bossuet gives us in his Cannais- 
 sance de Dieu et de soi-meine, * excellent practical advice : it 
 is obviously based on his study of consciences. 
 
 He justly observes that we cannot directly control our pas- 
 sions : " We cannot," he says, " start or appease our anger as 
 we can move an arm or keep it still." But, on the other hand, 
 the power we exercise over our external members gives us also 
 a very great one over our passions. It is, of course, but an in- 
 direct power, but it is no less efficacious : " Thus can I put 
 away from me a disagreeable and irritating object, and when my 
 anger is excited, I can refuse it the arm it needs to satisfy itself." 
 
 To do this it is necessary to will it; but there is nothing so 
 difficult as to will Avhen the soid is possessed by a passion. 
 The question is then to know how one may escape a ruling 
 passion. To succeed in it one should not attack it in front, 
 but as much as possible turn the mind upon other objects : it 
 is with passion " as with a river which is more easily turned 
 
 * Chap. III., 19.
 
 MORAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 329 
 
 off from its course than stopped short," A passion is often 
 conquered by means of another passion, " as in a State," says 
 Bacon, " where a prince restrains one faction by means of 
 another." Bossuet says even that it may be well, in order to 
 avoid criminal passions, to abandon one's self to innocent 
 ones.* One should also be careful in the choice of the 
 persons he associates with : "for nothing more arouses the 
 passions than the talk and actions of passionate men ; whilst 
 a quiet mind, provided its repose be not feelingless and in- 
 sipid, seems, on the contrary, to communicate to us its own 
 peace. We need something lively that may accord with our 
 own feelings. 
 
 In a word, to conclude with Bossuet, " we should try to 
 calm excited minds by diverting them from the main object 
 of their excitement ; approach them obliquely rather than 
 directly in front ; that is to say, that when a passion is already 
 excited, there is no time then to attack it by reasoning, for 
 one drives it all the stronger in. Where wise reflections are 
 of greatest effect is in the forestalling of passions. One should 
 therefore fill his mind with sensible thoughts, and accustom it 
 early to proper inclinations, so that there be no room for the 
 objects of passions." 
 
 178. Improvement of character. — Bossuet has just in- 
 formed us how we are to conduct ourselves in regard to the 
 passions, as diseases of the soul. Let us now see how char- 
 acter, namely, temperament, may be modified. 
 
 * Plato in the Phaedo (trad, de Saisset, p. 31) seems to condemn the idea of oom- 
 bating passion by passion : " To exchange one sensual pleasure for another," he says, 
 • ' one grief for another, one fear for another, and to do like those who get small 
 change for a piece of money, is not the path which leads to virtue. Wisdom is the 
 only true coin against which all the others should \>e exchanged. . . . Without wis- 
 dom all other virtues are but shadows of virtues, a virtue the slave of vice, wherein 
 there is nothing wholesome nor true. Tnie virtue is free from all passion." 
 Nothing more true and more noble ; but there is in this doctrine nothing contrary 
 to that of Bossuet. The question is not to exchange one passion for another, for sucJi 
 an act is devoid of all moral character, but to exchange passion against wisdom 
 and virtue ; and all we want to know is themeans. Now experience conlirms what 
 Bossuet has said, namely, that one cannot immediately triumph over a j>assion, 
 esi>eciall)y when at its zenith, and that it is necessary to turn one's though Us uixm 
 other objects and appeal to more innocent passions or to passions, if not less ardent, 
 at least more noble, such as patriotism or the religious sentiment.
 
 330 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 
 
 The character is a collection of habits, a great part of which 
 belong, unquestionably, to our natural inclinations, but which, 
 nevertheless, are also largely formed under the influence of 
 education, circumstances, indulgence of passions, etc. It is 
 thus character, " this second nature," as it has often been 
 called, gradually develops. 
 
 Character being, as we have seen above, a habit, and virtue, 
 on the other hand, being also a habit, the problem which 
 presents itself to him who wishes to improve his character and 
 exchange his vices for virtues, is to know how one habit may 
 be substituted for another, and how even a painful habit may 
 be substituted for an agreeable habit, sometimes for a habit 
 which has lost its charm, but not yet its empire over one. 
 
 This problem may be found analyzed and most pathetically 
 described in the Confessions of St. Augustine : 
 
 " I was," he tells us, " like those who wish to get awake, but who, 
 overcome by sleep, fall back into slumber. There is certainly no one 
 who would wish to sleep always, and who would not rather, if he is 
 healthy of mind, prefer the waking to the sleeping state ; and yet there 
 is nothing more difficult than to shake oflF the languor which weighs 
 our limbs down ; and often, though the hour for waking has come, we 
 are against our will made captives by the sweetness of sleep. . . I was 
 held back by the frivolous pleasures and foolish vanities which I had 
 found in the company of my former friends : they hung on the vestures 
 of my flesh, whispering, ' Art thou going to abandon us ? ' . . . If, on 
 the one hand, virtue attracted and persuaded me, pleasure on the other 
 captivated and enslaved me. . . I had no other answer for the former, 
 than : ' Presently, presently, wait a little.' But this ' presently' had 
 no end and this ' wait a little ' was indefinitely prolonged,^^ Wretch 
 that I am ! who mil deliver me from the body of this death ? " * 
 
 At SO painful a juncture, the Christian religion offers its 
 children an all-powerful and efficacious remedy : this is what 
 it calls grace. But of this means moral philosophy cannot 
 dispose ; all it can do is to find in the study of human nature 
 the exclusively natural means God has endowed it with, to 
 elevate man to virtue. Now, these means, limited though 
 
 • Confessions, VIII., v.
 
 MORAL MEDICIXE AND GYMNASTICS. 331 
 
 they be, should not be considered inefficient, since for 
 many centuries they sufficed the greatest men and sages of 
 antiquity.* 
 
 179. Rules of Malebranche and Aristotle. — AVe may take 
 for a starting point this maxim of Maiebranclie, which he bor- 
 rowed from Aristotle : Acts produce habits, and habits produce 
 acts.j ^ habit, in fact, is induced by a certain number of 
 often repeated actions ; and once generated, it produces in its 
 turn acts, so to say, spontaneous and without any effort of the 
 will. Thence spring vices and virtues ; and the problem is to 
 know how the first may be corrected, and the second retained : 
 for the question is not only to pass from evil to good, but we 
 should also take care not to slide from good into evil. 
 
 If the first maxim of Malebranche were absolute, it woidd 
 follow that the soul could not change its habits, nor the bad 
 man improve, nor the good become corrupt ; it would follow 
 that hope would be interdicted to the one, and that the other 
 would have nothing more to fear; consequences which experi- 
 ence shows to be entirely false. Some fanatical sects may 
 have believed that virtue or holiness once attained could 
 never again be lost, J and tliis belief served as a shield to the 
 most shameful disorders. Facts, on the contrary, teach us 
 that there is no virtue so infallible as to be secure against a 
 fall, and no vice ever so deeply rooted that may not be less- 
 
 * The virtues of the pagans have been often depreciated, and St. Augustine himself, 
 great an admirer as he was of antiquitj', called them, nevertheless, splendid vices 
 (vitia splendida). They are often regarded as induced by pride rather than by a 
 sincere love of virtue. We should beware of such interpretations, for once on the 
 road of moral pessimism, there is no reason for stopping at anj-thing. We may as 
 well maintain that there are a thousand forms of pride, and tliat self-love often sets 
 its glory in pretending to overcome itself. " We must therefore not wonder to find 
 it coupled with the greatest austerity, and, in order to destroy itself, make us 
 bravely a companion of it, for whilst it ruins itself in one place, it starts up again in 
 another." It may be seen by this passage of La Rochefoucauld, that it is of no use 
 to interpret the pagan virtues in a bad sense, for the argument can be retorted. It is 
 better to regard virtue as sincere and true wherever we meet with it, so long as 
 there are no proofs to the contrary. 
 
 t Traite de morale, III., 2. 
 
 X The theory of inadmissible sanctity consisted in maintaining that man, having 
 reached a state of sanctity, could never again, wliatever he might do, fall from it.
 
 332 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 ened or destroyed. In fact, and this is Malebranche's second 
 maxim : One can always act against a ruling habit. If ons 
 can act contrary to a positive habit, such acts often repeated 
 may, according to the first maxim, produce, by the elfort of 
 the will, a new habit which will take the place of the preced- 
 ing one. One can thus either corrupt or correct one's self. 
 Only, as the virtuous habits are the more painful tc^ acquire, 
 and the vicious habits the more agreeable, it will always be 
 more easy to pass from good to evil than from evil to good. 
 
 How shall we proceed to substitute a good habit for a bad 
 one ? Aristotle says that when we have a defect to get rid of, 
 we should throw ourselves into the opposite extreme, so 
 that after having removed ourselves with all our might from 
 the dreaded fault we may in some respects, and through 
 natural elasticity, return to the just medium indicated by 
 reason, just as a bent wand straightens itself again when let 
 go. This maxim may do in certain cases and with certain 
 characters, but it would have to be applied cautiously. One 
 may, under the influence of enthusiasm, throw himself into a 
 violent extreme, and remain there for some time ; but at the 
 moment of reaction it is not impossible that, instead of stop- 
 ping at the desired medium, he may fall back into the first 
 extreme again. 
 
 180. Rules of Bacon and Leibnitz. — Bacon,* who did 
 not find Aristotle's maxim sufficient, tries to complete it by a 
 few additional ones : 
 
 1. One should beware of beginning with too difficult tasks, 
 and should proportion them to his strength — in a woid, proceed 
 hi/ degrees. For example, he who wishes to correct himself 
 of his laziness, should not at once impose too great a work 
 upon himself, but he sliould every day work a little longer 
 than the day before, until the habit is formed. 
 
 In order to render these exercises less painful, it is per- 
 mitted to employ some auxiliary means, like some one learn- 
 
 * The Dimity of Sciences, VII., iii.
 
 MORAL MEDICINE AXD GYMXASTICS. 333 
 
 ing to swim will use bladders or willow supports. After a 
 little while the difficulties w'ill be purposely increased, like 
 dancers who, to acquire agility, practice at first with very 
 heavy shoes. 
 
 " There is to be observed," adds Bacon, " that there are 
 certain vices (and drunkenness is one of them) where it is 
 dangerous to proceed by degrees only, and where it is better 
 to cut short at once and in an absolute manner. 
 
 2. The second maxim, where the question is of acquiring a 
 new virtue, is to choose for it two different opportunities : 
 the first when one feels best disposed toward the kind of 
 actions he may have in view ; the second, when as ill disposed 
 as possible, so as to take advantage of the first opportunity to 
 make considerable headway, and of the second, to exercise the 
 energy of the will. This second rule is an excellent one, and 
 truly efficacious. 
 
 3. A third rule is, when one has conquered, or thinks he 
 has conquered, his temperament, not to trust it too much. 
 It were well to remember here the old maxim : " Drive away 
 temperament,^^ etc., and remember /Esop's cat, which, meta- 
 morphosed into a woman, behaved very well at table until 
 it espied a mouse. 
 
 Leibnitz also gives us some good advice as to practical 
 prudence, to teach us to triumpli over ourselves, and ex- 
 pounds in his own way the same ideas as Bossuet and 
 Bacon : 
 
 " WTien a man is in a good state of mind he should lay 
 down for himself laws and rules for the future, and strictly 
 adhere to them ; he should, according to the nature of the 
 thing, either suddenly or gradually turn his back upon all 
 occasions liable to degrade him. A journey undertaken on 
 purpose by a lover will cure him of his love ; a sudden 
 retreat will relieve us of bad company. Francis Borgia, 
 general of the Jesuits, w^ho was finally canonized, being 
 accustomed to drink freely whilst yet a man of the world, 
 when he began to withdraw from it gradually reduced his
 
 334 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 allowance to the smaUest amount by dropping every day a 
 piece of wax into the bowl he was in the habit of empty- 
 in;?. To dangerous likings one must oppose more innocent 
 likings, such as agriculture, gardening, etc. ; one must shun 
 idleness ; make coUections of natural history or art objects ; 
 encrage in scientific experiments and investigations ; one must 
 male himself some indispensable occupation, or, in default of 
 such en"a<-e in useful or agreeable conversation or reading. 
 In a word? one should take advantage of all good impukes 
 toward forming strong resolutions, as if they were the voice 
 
 of God calling us.* 
 
 181 Franklin's Almanac— To these maxims concerning 
 the formation and perfecting of character, may fittmgly be 
 added the moral method which Benjamin Franklm adopted 
 for his oA^-n improvement in virtue. He had made a list of 
 the qualities which he wished to acquire and develop withm 
 himself, and had reduced them to thirteen principal ones. 
 This classification, which has no scientific value, appeared to 
 him entirelv sufficient fo. the end he had in view. These 
 thirteen virtues are the following : temperance, sUence, order, 
 resolution, frugality, industry, sincerity, justice, moderation, 
 cleanliness, tranquillity, chastity, humility. 
 
 This catalogue, once drawn up, Franklin, reflecting that it 
 would be diffi^cult to fight at the same time thirteen defects 
 and keep his mind on thirteen virtues, had an idea similar to 
 that of Horatius in his combat with the Curiatii : he resolved 
 to fi'dit his enemies one by one ; he applied to morality the 
 weulno^vn principle of politicians: '^Divide if thou iciU 
 
 "I made a little book," he says, " in which I allotted a page 
 for each t)f the virtues. I ruled each page with red ink, so 
 as to have seven columns, one for each day of the week, mark- 
 in- each column with a letter for the day. I crossed these 
 columns with thirteen red lines, marking the beginning of 
 each line with the first letter of one of the virtues ; on which 
 
 * Essays on the Human Understauding, II., xxi.
 
 MORAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 335 
 
 line, and in its proper column, I might mark, by a little black 
 spot, every fault I found upon examination to have been 
 committed respecting that virtue upon that day. 
 
 " I determined to give a week's strict attention to each of 
 the virtues successively. Thus, in the first week, my great 
 guard was to avoid even the least oifense against temperance ; 
 leaving the other virtues to their ordinary chance, only mark- 
 ing every evening the faults of the day. Thus, if in the first 
 week I could keep my first line, marked T, clear of spots, I 
 supposed the habit of that virtue so much strengthened, and 
 its opposite weakened, that I might venture extending my at- 
 tention to include the next, and for the following week keep 
 both lines clear of spots. Proceeding thus to the last, I could 
 get through a course complete in thirteen weeks, and four 
 courses in a year. And, like him, who, having a garden to 
 weed, does not attempt to eradicate all the bad herbs at once, 
 which would exceed his reach and his strength, biit works on 
 one of the beds at a time, and, having accomplished the first, 
 proceeds to a second ; so I should have, I hoped, the en- 
 couraging pleasure of seeing on my pages the progress made in 
 virtue, by clearing successively my lines of their spots ; till, 
 in the end, hj a number of courses, I should be happy in 
 viewing a clean book, after a thirteen weeks' daily examina- 
 tion." 
 
 182. Maxim of Epictetus. — The wise Epictetus gives us 
 the same advice as Franklin : " If you would not be of an 
 angry temper," he says, " then do not feed the habit. Be 
 quiet at first, then count the days where you have not been 
 angry. You will say : ' I used to be angry every day ; now 
 every other day ; then every third or fourth day, and if you 
 miss it so long as thirty days, offer a sacrifice to God." * He 
 said, moreover : " If you will practice self-control, take, when 
 it is Avarm and you are thirsty, a mouthful of fresh water, and 
 spit it out again, and tell no one." 
 
 183. Individual character— Cicero's maxims. — The phi- 
 
 * Epictetus, II., xviii. (T. W. IIi);piiisoir.s tr.insl.).
 
 336 ELEMENTS OF MORALS, 
 
 losophers whom we have just cited give us rules to combat 
 and correct our temperament when it is vicious. Cicero, on 
 the contrary, gives us others to maintain our individual char- 
 acter and remain true to it ; and these rules are no less useful 
 than the others. He justly observes that every man has his 
 own inclinations which constitute his individual and original 
 character. " Some," he says, " are more agile in the foot- 
 race ; others stronger at wrestling ; these are more noble, 
 those more graceful; Scaurus and Drusus were singularly 
 grave ; Lselius, very merry ; Socrates was playful and amusing 
 in conversation. Some are simple-minded and frank, others, 
 like Hannibal and Fabius, more crafty. In short, there is an 
 infinite variety of manners and differences of character without 
 their being for that l)lamable." * 
 
 Now, this is a very sensible principle of Cicero, that we 
 ought not to go against the inclinations of our nature when 
 they are not vicious : 
 
 " /ft constraining our talents 
 TVc do nothing gracefully," 
 
 said the fabulist. " Let each of us then know his own dis- 
 position, and be to himself a severe judge concerning his own 
 defects and qualities. Let us do as the players who do not 
 always choose the finest parts, but those best suited to their 
 talent, ^^^sopusf did not often play the part of Ajax." 
 Cicero in this precept, " that every one should remain true to 
 his individual character," goes so far as to justify Cato's sui- 
 cide, for the reason that it accorded with his character. 
 " Others," he says, " might be guilty in committing suicide ; 
 but in the case of Cato, he was right ; it was a duty ; Cato 
 ought to have died." | This is carrying the rights and duties 
 of the individual character somewhat far; but it is certain 
 that, aside from the great general duties of humanity, which 
 are the same for all men, each individual man has a role to 
 
 * De Officiis, I., xxx. 
 
 t The greatest tragie actor at Rome, and a contemporary of Koscius, the greatest 
 comic actor. — Translator. 
 X T>c, Officiis, I., xxxi.
 
 MORAL MEDICINE AND GYMNASTICS. 337 
 
 play on earth, and this role is in part determined by our 
 natural dispositions ; now, we should yield to these disposi- 
 tions, when they are not vicious, and should develop them. 
 
 184. Self-examination. — Finally, what is especially im- 
 portant, considered from a practical standpoint and in the 
 light of moral discipline, is, that each one should render him- 
 self an exact account of his own disposition, his defects, oddi- 
 ties, vices, so that he be able to correct them. Such was 
 the practical sense of that celebrated maxim formerly inscribed 
 over the temple at Delphi : " Know thyself." This is Socrates' 
 own interpretation of it in his conversations with his dis- 
 ciples : " Tell me, Euthydemus, have you ever gone to 
 Delphi?" — "Yes, twice." — -"And did you observe what is 
 "written somewhere on the temple-wall : Know Thyself ? " — • 
 "I did." — "Think you that to know one's self it is enough to 
 know one's own name 1 Is there nothing more needed ? And 
 as those who buy horses do not think they know the animal 
 they wish to buy till they have examined it and discovered 
 whether it is obedient or restive, vigorous or weak, swift or 
 slow, etc., must we not likewise know ourselves to judge what 
 we are really Avorth?" — "Certainly." — "It is then obvious 
 that this knowledge of himself is to man a source of much 
 good, whilst being in error about himself exposes him to a 
 thousand evils. Those who know themselves well, know 
 Avhat is useful to them, discern what they can or cannot do ; 
 now, in doing what they are capable of doing, they procure 
 the necessaries of life and are happy. Those who, on the con- 
 trary, do not know themselves, fail in all their enterprises, 
 and fall into contempt and dishonor."* 
 
 185. Examination of the conscience. — To know one's self 
 well, it is necessary to examine one's self. Hence a practice 
 often recommended by moralists, and particularly Christian 
 moralists, known also by the ancients, namely, the examina- 
 tion of the conscience. 
 
 There is a fine picture of it in Seneca's writings : " Wo 
 
 ♦ Afe.)mraMlia of Socrates, IV., iv.
 
 338 ' ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 should," says the philosopher, " call, every day, our conscience 
 to account. Thus did Sextius ; when his daily work was done, 
 he questioned his soul : Of what defect hast thou cured thy- 
 self to-day % What passion hast thou combated ? In what hast 
 thou become better % What more beautiful than this habit of 
 going thus over the whole day ! . . . I do the same, and be- 
 ing my own judge, I call myself before my own tribunal. 
 A\lien the light has been carried away from my room, I begin 
 an inquest of the whole day ; I examine all my actions and 
 words. I conceal nothing, allow myself nothing. And why 
 should I hesitate to look at any of my faults when I can say 
 to myself : Take care not to do so again : for to-day I forgive 
 thee?"* 
 
 To designate all the practices which experience of life has 
 suggested to the moralists, to induce men to better, correct, 
 perfect themselves in right doing, would be an endless task. 
 ISTo better method in tliis respect than to read the Cliristian 
 moralists: Bossuet, Fenelon, Nicole, Bourdaloue. The advice 
 they give concerning the proper use of time, opportunities, 
 temptations, false shame, loose conversations, perseverance, can 
 be applied to morals as well as to religion. Eeading, medita- 
 tion, proper company, good advice, selection of some great 
 model to follow, etc., are the principal means we should em- 
 ploy to perfect ourselves in the right : " If we extirpated and 
 uprooted, every year, a single vice only, we should- soon be- 
 come perfect men." f 
 
 186. Kant's Catechism. — An excellent practice in moral 
 education is what Kant calls a moral catechism, in which the 
 master, under the form of questions and answers, sums up the 
 principles of morality. The pupil learns thereby to account 
 for ideas of which he is but vaguely conscious, and which he 
 often confounds with principles of another order, with the in- 
 
 ♦ Seneca, on Anger, III., 38. To tell the truth, Seneca forgave himself sometimes 
 too easily perhaps, as, for example, on the day when he defended the murder of 
 Agrippina ; we are often too much disposed to imitate him. 
 
 t Imitation of Jesus Christ I., xi.
 
 MORAL MEDICIXE AND GTMNASTICS. 339 
 
 stiuct of happiness, for example, or the consideration of self- 
 interest. 
 
 The following are some extracts from Kant's Moral Cate- 
 chism.*' 
 
 Teac7ie?\— What is thy greatest and even thy only wish on 
 earth 1 
 
 The pupil remains silent, f 
 
 Teacher. — Is it not always to succeed in everything accord- 
 ing to thy Avishes and will 1 How do we call such a state 1 
 
 The pupil remains silent. 
 
 Teacher. — We call it happiness (namely, constant prosperity, 
 a life all satisfaction, and to be absolutely content with one's 
 condition). Now, if thou hadst in thy hands all possible 
 earthly happiness, wouldst thou keep it wholly to thyself, or ' 
 share it with thy fellow-beings ? 
 
 Pupil. — I should share it with them ; I should make others 
 happy and contented also. 
 
 Teadwr. — This already shows that thou hast a good heart. 
 Let us see now if thou hast also a good judgment. Wouldst 
 thou give to the idler soft cushions ; to the drunkard wine in 
 abundance, and all else that will produce drunkenness ; to 
 tlie rogue agreeable luanners and a fine presence, that he 
 might the more easily deceive ; to the violent man, audacity 
 and a strong fist 1 
 
 Pupil. — Certainly not. 
 
 Teacher. — Thou seest then that if thou heldst all happiness 
 in thy hands, thou wouldst not, without reflection, distribute 
 it to each as he desires ; but thou wouldst ask thyself how far 
 he is worth)/ of it. WoiUd it not also occur to thee to ask 
 thyself whether thou art thyself worthy of happiness ? 
 
 Pupil. — Undoubtedly. 
 
 * Doctrine de la Vertu, trad. fr. p. 170. 
 
 We give here this catechism as an example of what might be done in a course of 
 morals. The teacher can modify its form and developments as he thinks best. 
 
 t We can see by this that Kant undcistooil youth. In a Socratic interrogation of 
 this kind, the pupil, distrusting his powers, will always begin by being silent. It is 
 only when he perceives that he knows what was asked him, that he ventures to an- 
 swer, and answers well.
 
 340 ELEMENTS OF MOEALS 
 
 Teacher. — "Well, then, that which, in thee inclines to happi- 
 ness, is called inclination; that which judges that the first 
 condition to enjoy happiness is to be worthy of it, is the rea- 
 son ; and the faculty thou hast to overcome thy inclination by 
 thy reason, is liberty. For example, if thou couldst without 
 injuring any one procure to thyself or to one of thy friends a 
 great advantage by means of an adroit falsehood, what says 
 thy reason ? 
 
 Pupil. — That I must not lie, whatever great advantage may 
 result from it to me or to my friend. Falsehood is derjradiruj., 
 and renders man umrortluj of being happy. There is in this 
 case absolute necessity imposed on me by a command or pro- 
 hibition of my reason, and Avhicli should silence all my incli- 
 nations. 
 
 Teacher. — What do we call this necessity of acting conform- 
 ably to the law of reason ? 
 
 Pupil. — AYe call it duty. 
 
 Teacher. — Thus is the observance of our duty the general 
 condition on which we can alone be Avorthy of happiness. To 
 be xcoHhy of happiness and to do ojie's duty in one and the 
 same thing.
 
 APPENDIX* TO CHAPTER VI 11. 
 
 THE UXIOX OF CLASSES. 
 
 A SUBJECT which has attracted much attention, and which is often 
 referred to in conversation, in books, in political assemblies, is the 
 various classes of society ; there are upper and lower classes, and be- 
 tween these two, a middle class. We speak of laboring classes, poor 
 classes, rich classes. These are expressions which it were desirable 
 should disappear. They relate to ancient customs, ancient facts, and 
 in the present state of society correspond no longer to situations now 
 all clearly defined. They are vestiges which last long after the facts to 
 which the)' corresponded have disappeared, and which retained are often 
 followed by grave consequences. They give rise to misunderstanding, 
 false ideas, sentiments more or less blameworthy. I should like to 
 show that in the present state of society, there are no longer any classes, 
 that there are only men, individuals. The word classes, in a strict 
 sense, can be applied only to a state of society where social and natural 
 advantages are conferred by the law to certain men at the expense of 
 others ; where some can procure these advantages whilst others never 
 can ; where the public burden weighs on a certain class, on a certain 
 number of men, whilst the others are entirely free from it, and this, I 
 repeat, by the sanction of law, and by social organization. 
 
 This state of things has existed, with more or less differences and 
 notably great changes, in all past centuries. Its lowest degree is, for 
 example, that where it is impossible for certain men to procure to them- 
 selves the goods desired by all, where they can never own any kind of 
 property, however small, where they are themselves considered prop- 
 erty ; Avliere, instead of being allowed to sell and buy, they are them- 
 selves sold and bought, themselves reduced to an object of commerce. 
 This state is that called slaverfi. 
 
 Slavery, in its strict sense, is the state where mau is the property of 
 
 * We give this as a useful supplement to Chapter Vm. It is a lecture formerly 
 delivered on the Union of Classes (1867, lievue des covrs litteraire$, v., p. 42). . . We 
 beg to be pardoned for what negligences of style may have cmpt into the improvisa- 
 tion.
 
 342 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 
 
 other men, is a thing ; where lie is bought and sold, and where his work 
 does not belong to him, but to his master. 
 
 This state of things existed through all anti(iuity. Society, with the 
 ancients, was divided into two great classes (the term is here perfectly 
 in its place), classes very unequal in numbers, where the more numer- 
 ous were the property of the least numerous. The citizens, as they were 
 called, or freemen, who constituted a part of the State, the Republic, 
 had no need of working to make a living, because they owned living 
 instruments of work — men. 
 
 This state of things, you well know, did not only exist in antiquity ; 
 it was perpetuated till our days, and it is not very long since it still 
 existed in some of the greatest societies of the world. We may consider 
 it at present as wholly done away mth. 
 
 A notch higher, we find the state called serfdom, where man is not 
 wholly interdicted to own property, and where he is allowed a family, 
 which fact constitutes the superiority of serfdom over slavery. It is ob- 
 vious that in a state of slavery, there can be no family : a man, the prop- 
 erty of another, liable to be bought and sold, can have no family. Serf- 
 dom, which in the Middle Ages existed in all European .societies, and 
 but recently was abolished in Russia, allowed the individual a family, 
 and in a certain measure even the right of property ; but he was a part 
 of the land on which he was born, and, like that land, belonged to a 
 master, a lord. 
 
 The serf then was, as it is commonly called, attached to the glehe, to 
 the land, unable to leave it, unable to buy or sell except under extremely 
 restricted conditions, and thus a part of the soil on which he was 
 born, he belonged with that soil to his lord. This state of things was 
 gradually bettered. The serfs, little by little, acquired by their work a 
 small capital ; they succeeded in buying their liberty from their lords. 
 It is this which gave rise to that ancient society, called ancien regime, 
 which preceded the French Revolution. But all men were not serfs ; 
 thing's had not reached that point ; serfdom had already been abolished 
 by means of certain contracts, certain sums of money which the work- 
 ing-men paid as a sign of their former thraldom. Yet was there still in 
 force much that was iniquitous, forming what is called an aristocratic 
 society, where, for example, some men had the exclusive right of hold- 
 ing and transmitting to their children territorial property, which they 
 were not allowed to put in trade, the exclusive right of holding public 
 functions, of having grades in the army, the right of hunting and fish- 
 ing, etc. And conversely, on the other hand, whilst the minority 
 enjoyed so exclusively all these privileges, the costs of society rested on 
 the "greater number, and these costs the serfs were obliged to pay. 
 Hence a society in which there were classes, since the law conferred
 
 APPENDIX TO CHAPTEE YITT. 343 
 
 social advantages on some in preference to others, and heavy burdens 
 resting on some without resting on others. 
 
 As it is not my purpose to write here the history of modern society, I 
 need not enter into all the details of these facts, which are, besides, quite 
 well known. 
 
 You aU know that these great social injustices and iniquitous prac- 
 tices disappeared at the time of the Revolution, and that the princii)al 
 object of the French Revolution of 1789 was precisely to suppress all 
 these pri\Hleges conceded to some, and these burdens unequally imposed 
 on others. From that moment, there was equality in law, that is to 
 say, that all men belonging to our present society are allowed to accumu- 
 late property, exercise public functions, rise to higher grades — in a 
 word, are considered fit to obtain all the advantages which society has 
 to offer, and which nature allows them to desire and acquire. 
 
 Since 1789, society, as a matter of course, has continued to move in 
 the same grooves, and, thanks to work and competition, all that which 
 still existed by way of social inequalities has gradually disappeared ; if, 
 by chance, there still remain in our laws such vestiges of former inequal- 
 ity, they will in time, and with the help of all enlightened men, disap- 
 pear ; for it is now a truth fully recognized that the good of humanity 
 demands that at least all legal inequalities should be done away with, 
 and that all men, without distinction, should be allowed to acquire any 
 advantages which their special faculties, and the conditions wherein they 
 are placed, enable them to acquire. I say, then, that this being the case, 
 there is no reason why, in the present state of society, men should any 
 longer be designated by classes. They are men, and men alone, and as 
 such they should be allowed to enjoy common advantages, to live by 
 their work — namely, to constitute themselves into families, to cultivate 
 their intelligence, to worship God according to their conscience — in a 
 word, to enjoy all the rights we caU the rights of a man and citizen. 
 
 But when in a society all legal inequalities have been suppressed, does 
 it necessarily follow that an absolute equality will be the final result ? 
 No. Society can only do away with inequalities of its own making ; 
 inequalities which, from causes we have not time here to set forth, were 
 added to the already existing natural inequalities. For there are natural 
 inequalities ; inequalities which may be called individual inetiualities, 
 there being no two persons in the werld exactly the same. From this 
 fact alone — men being in a thousand ways different from each other — 
 it necessarily follows that each man's condition is different from that of 
 his fellow-men. Hence an infinite multitude of inequalities which have 
 always existed and always will exist, because they result from the 
 nature of things ; and such inequalities must be clearly distinguished 
 from those dependent on the law.
 
 344 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 What now are the principal causes of these inequalities, which I call 
 individual inequalities ? They are of two kinds : the inherent faculties 
 of the individual, and the circumstances wherein he is placed. 
 
 The faculties of the individual are the work of nature : they spring 
 from liis moral and physical organization ; and, as I have said above, 
 there being no two men exactly alike, either physically or morally, it 
 naturally follows that there are differences, and these differences bring 
 with them inequalities. Let us, for instance, take the most important 
 of all these differences, namely, physical strength, health. Man is a 
 living being, an organized being, and his organization is subject to the 
 most delicate, most numerous, most complicated conditions. Hence 
 many differences. Some are born strong, robust, able to brave all kinds 
 of temperatures, all sorts of trials— trials of work, of outside events, 
 sometimes the trials of their own excesses even. 
 
 Others, on the contrary, are born with a feeble constitution ; they are 
 weak, delicate, they cannot bear trials the same as the ethers. 
 
 This is a first difference, and this difference, you well know, may be 
 subdivided into a multitude of others ; for there are no two individuals 
 equally healthy, equally strong. What will be the natural result? 
 This, for example : that where strength is required (and every one needs 
 more or less physical strength to accomplish certain heavy works), the 
 strongest will have the advantage over the others ; and, after a certain 
 time, of two men who started at the same time, under the same condi- 
 tions, with equal moral advantages, one, owing to his physical strength, 
 shall have accomplished a great deal, and the other less ; one shall have 
 earned much, the other little : their career is unequal. 
 
 But it is not always the greater physical strength and health which 
 determine in man his capacity for work ; and it is a notable fact, and a 
 matter upon which it is well to insist, namely, that all differences are 
 compensated for, balance themselves, so to say ; that such a one, for 
 example, who, in some respect and from a certain point of view, may be 
 inferior to another, may from another standpoint be superior to him ; 
 which, again, is as much as to say that tliere are no classes in society ; 
 for if the one who in one respect is inferior to his fellow-man, is in another 
 superior to him, they are equals. 
 
 " In the class called the laboring class, for example, we see every day 
 that it is not always the strongest and the healthiest that produce the 
 largest amount of work ; and love of work is a notable factor in this 
 scale of physical strength, making the balance pretty even. For some 
 delicate men are industrious, wliilst others who are stronger are not ; 
 some have a natural liking for their work, whilst others again have 
 not. Hence a difference in the character of their work, and, conse- 
 fluently, in the remuneration of it.
 
 APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VIII. 345 
 
 A third difference is that of the intelligence. All men have received 
 from nature a special gift which distinguishes them from the animals, 
 and which we call intelligence ; but they have not received it all to the 
 same degree. Not all men have the same intellectual faculties, and 
 every one knows how great an element of success intelligence is in all 
 functions, in all departments of human activity, even in those requiring 
 above all physical strength and the use of the hands. It is well known 
 that even the latter find in intelligence their best auxiliary ; that it 
 procures them an invaluable advantage, even over those whose physical 
 strength, facility, ardor, tenacity in work, would seem to forestall all 
 rivalry. 
 
 There is finally a fourth element which is also inherent in the indi- 
 vidual man, and which distinguishes one man from the other, and this 
 is morality. We all know that morality, independently of its own 
 merit, its incomparable, intrinsic merit, a merit which cannot be esti- 
 mated by its fruits, is of itself alone one of the greatest factors in bring- 
 ing about ijn[iortant results in practical life. We all know that even 
 setting aside the intrinsic worth of morality — honesty, virtue — the work 
 resulting from our physical efforts is greatly enhanced by this precious 
 element. We all know that economy, sobriety, a spirit of peace and 
 concord, devotion to the family — in short, all moral elements — give to 
 him who exercises them a vast superiority over his fellows who do not, 
 despite his intellectual and physical disadvantages. 
 
 "When I say that morality is an element of inequality, I wish to be 
 understood rightly. There are, it is true, moral inequalities among 
 men ; and from these moral inequalities spring others ; but morality is 
 not in itself a principle of inequality, for what precisely constitutes 
 morality, is that all men can equally attain to it ; that it wholly depends 
 on the individual man to attain to it or not. So that if, on this point, 
 a man finds himself inferior to another, he can blame no one for it but 
 himself 
 
 Here, then, is a point where the law is of no avail ; where it is evident 
 that man is the master of his actions, and gains for himself what mo- 
 rality he wishes ; if, then, there results from this a certain inequality 
 among men, this inequality is to be attributed to the free-will of the 
 individual man, who did not profit by the admirable gift Providence 
 has endowed him with — namely, moral liberty— and by means of which 
 he can choose between the right and the wrong. 
 
 You see, then, that there are many causes differentiating men from 
 each other, and in such a manner that it is impossible to define them 
 strictly. We cannot say : there are on the one hand the strong, and on 
 the other the weak ; on the one the intelligent, on the other the feeble- 
 minded, because all these elements so combine as to compensate for one
 
 346 ELEMENTS OF MOIIALS. 
 
 another. Once more, he who is least favored in one direction, may be 
 better favored in another ; he who has an inferior share of intelligence 
 and physical strength, may be the first in will-power. We can thus 
 always fill out natural inequalities, and correct and overcome them by 
 an effort of the will. 
 
 Still, however that may be, and despite all effort of individual will- 
 power and "moral energy, there unquestionably result from these indi- 
 vidual differences a multitude of different conditions among men. Be- 
 sides, and independently of these purely inward causes due to both the 
 physical and moral constitution of the individiial man, there are yet 
 outward causes of inequality. These are the circumstances, the condi- 
 tions wherein we are born and live. 
 
 We are all more or less dependent on the physical and social condi- 
 tions which surround us. It is quite certain that birth, for example, is 
 a circumstance wholly independent of the will of man. Some are born 
 in the most favorable, some in the least favorable social conditions — 
 some rich, some poor ; facts which depend neither on their constitution 
 nor on their will. There are, moreover, still other outward circum- 
 stances. One may be born in a rich, a civilized, an enlightened, a pro- 
 gressive country, or in a poor, barbarous, benighted country. One 
 may live in a place where there is every means of education, of 
 making a living, of improving one's self, where there may be a 
 thousand favorable openings for a man, and again, on the contrary, 
 in a place far away from all civilization, without opportunities for 
 work, without enlightenment, without means of communication with 
 other men. All such circumstances are independent of the will of the 
 individual man, and can only be corrected in time and through the 
 progi-ess of civilization, which gradually equalizes all countries. 
 
 There are yet, besides all this, what is generally called the happy and 
 unhappy chances of life. Everybody knows that human events do not 
 always run as one would wish them, that things turn out more or less 
 fortunately, as circumstances, and not men, order them. One may, for 
 instance, get sick, when he has most need of health ; a wife loses her 
 husband, the support of her family, when she has most need of him ; 
 one may engage in an enterprise apparently founded on the best condi- 
 tions of success : this enterprise fails on account of unexpected events, 
 and without its being any one's fault. In commerce, for instance, we 
 see every day the most unfortunate consequences of outward circum- 
 stances, against which one is utterly helpless, because, in commerce espe- 
 cially, there is a large share to be left to chance, to the unknown, which 
 no one can calculate beforehand. Now, all such unexpected events, as 
 they are realized, overthrow all our plans, and are cause that some attain 
 to wealth, and others fall into poverty. Farmers particularly know but
 
 APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VIII. 347 
 
 too well how dependent they are on outward circumstances. Cold, 
 heat, rain, are for them elements of fortune or misery, and they are 
 elements over which they have no control whatsoever. 
 
 Now these elements, working blindly, as it would seem, are the chief 
 cause of the great diversity of human conditions. Some, it is said, are 
 lucky ; others are not ; some meet with favorable circumsLances, others 
 with contrary and fatal circumstances. Everything seems to co-operate 
 toward crushing some, whilst everything again favors the success of 
 others. These causes are innumerable, and could be multiplied ad in- 
 finitum ; they explain the infinite variety of human conditions, how 
 there are none exactly similar, and how there are consequently no two 
 men exactly alike. 
 
 They are equals as men, in the sense that they have the same rights 
 to justice, to truth ; the same rights of conscience ; but they are not 
 equals as to their circumstances, which circumstances, as we have seen, 
 vary in every respect. But, it may be asked, why all these inequalities ? 
 Why are some happy and others unhappy ? Why some rich, fortunate, 
 powerful, intelligent, virtuous even ? (for it would almost seem that up 
 to a certain point, virtue also depends on social position, since those who 
 are born in a more elevated condition have greater facilities to exercise 
 virtue) ; why are others, on the contrary, unfortunate, obliged to work so 
 hard to arrive at such poor results ; to be scarcely able to make a living 
 for themselves or their family !■ Certainly these are indeed most grave 
 and serious questions. But, what I contend for is, that it is not to so- 
 ciety we should put these questions, but to Providence, who has made life 
 what it is. Society can do but one thing, namely, not to add to natural 
 inequalities, social ones. It can also, to a certain degree, lessen the 
 natural inequalities ; but it is not wholly responsible for man's moral and 
 physical constitution ; it is not wholly responsible for the course of events 
 in the world ; so that if we would know why things are thus fashioned, 
 we must rise higher ; we must not make our fellow-men or society in 
 general answtTable for them. I only add that, as legal inequalities disap- 
 pear, so will the natural inequalities also vanish, and this is the essen- 
 tial point. Natural inequalities cannot be wholly corrected, for the 
 reasons above stated ; but as society, in doing away with legal in- 
 equalities, strives to lessen the share of responsibility it has heretofore 
 had in these inequalities, the natural inequalities must necessarily grow 
 less, and for the simple reason that avenues being opened to man to enjoy 
 the fruit of his labor, and acquire the rights society holds now out to him, 
 he will be able to fill out these natural inequalities. The inequality of 
 intelligence was largely due to want of cultui'e. As soon as men shall be 
 educated, enliglitened, shall themselves endeavor to learn, the dilFerences 
 in human intelligence will gradually disappear ; for it has been observed
 
 348 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 that as civilization progresses, the number of great men diminishes, and 
 what was formerly called genius, is lost in the larger development of 
 society. This may be only an illusion, for genius never changes ; only 
 as the existing differences among men become lessened, the inequalities 
 which separated the great men from the rest are less obvious. 
 
 Thus, the more you shall put into the hands of men, and if possible 
 of all men, means for educating themselves, the more you will find 
 these differences vanish ; the more will they grow like each other, the 
 more will human intelligence become equalized. 
 
 On the other hand, as social and legal inequalities disappear, public 
 prosperity, public wealth, public comforts, will increase at the same 
 rate. As the physical strength of men develops, so will the means of 
 combating infirmities, diseases, all that weakened, enervated, depraved 
 the populations, develop also. As the moral differences diminish (not 
 indeed in the sense that every one will reach the same degree of virtue— 
 that is impossible), the rudeness, the brutality, certain odious vices due 
 to ignorance, to barbarous manners, to the insufficient means of com- 
 munication with each other, will gradually disappear ; and thus, in 
 respect to civilization also, will men grow more like each other. 
 
 You see, then, that by culture, by the progress of civilization, all these 
 inequalities due to outward circumstances, may be combated. Society 
 at the present time, being more ingenious, more enlightened, more 
 clever than in past days, has at its command a multitude of means 
 wherewith, if not to destroy, at least to reduce the ill effects of outward 
 chances. That, for example, which we call life-insurance, is very 
 effective indeed in combating misfortune. By means of a small sacrifice, 
 every man may in some respect protect himself against chances which 
 formerly reduced a large part of the population to misery. It is the same 
 with other similar societies of mutual assistance and benefit ; they will in- 
 crease in proportion to general progress, and will largely counteract the un- 
 happy results of such inequalities as may be combated by human industry. 
 
 I go still further ; I maintain that the inequalities above noted not 
 only should not be imputed to society, but not even to Providence. 
 They are legitimate and useful ; they are the necessary stimulant to 
 work. It is because of that very great variety of conditions that men 
 make the proper efforts to better them, and that by these efforts, by 
 this common labor, society progresses. 
 
 Why does every one work ? Is it not that each sees above him a 
 position he covets, and which he seeks to secure ? It is not the first of 
 positions, nor the highest, for man does not think of those too far above 
 him, nor should he ; but the next best, such as others like hira 
 occupy, he can attain. If he earns a little money only, he tries to earn 
 more ; if he is only a workman, he may become a foreman ; if only a
 
 APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VIII. 349 
 
 foreman, a master ; if only a master, a capitalist. He who is but a third 
 clerk will want to be second clerk ; he who is second will want to be 
 first ; and thus through the whole series of degrees. Now, it is just 
 the possibility of securing a better situation than the one we are in that 
 stimulates us to work and make the necessary efforts. Suppose (a 
 thing, of course, impossible) that all men could be assured of a sufficient 
 quantity of daily bread equally distributed among them, human activity 
 would at once come to a stop, human work would cease ; society would 
 consequently become impoverished, and, becoming impoverished, even 
 the small portion each one is satisfied with could no longer be possible, 
 and they would have to fall back upon work again. Work requires a 
 stimulant, and it is the inequality of human conditions which furnishes 
 this stimulant. 
 
 Societies are like individuals. Every society has always before its 
 eyes a condition better than the one it is in, a state of greater material 
 ])rosperity, of greater intellectual development ; and it is because we 
 long to reach that superior state that society strives after improvement. 
 There are, indeed, societies that are indifferent to this ; that do not 
 experience such a want ; but such peoples remain stagnant in their bar- 
 barous ignorance ; they never advance. It is the civilized nations who 
 are not satisfied with their condition, and where every one endeavors to 
 better his own. "We should, therefore, look upon the inequalities which 
 favor individual development, which assist the progress of the race, 
 which excite every man to make an effort to better his condition, as 
 truly desirable. 
 
 I have demonstrated how the great legal inequalities which, before 
 the French Revolution, authorized the division of society into classes, 
 have now disappeaied, and tliat what remains, and must of necessity 
 remain, are the natural inequalities resting, on the one hand, on indi- 
 vidual faculties, and on the other, on the diversity and the inequality 
 of the conditions wherein we are placed. Let us now see whether in 
 these conditions there is something requiring society to be divided into 
 parts : — some people above, some below, some in the middle, and 
 whether each of these parts should be called a class. I look in vain 
 for anything whereon such distinctions could be based. Let us take 
 the most natural fact which could serve as a basis for such distinctions 
 — namely, fortune, wealth. 
 
 It is said : there are the rich and the i)oor. But what more vague 
 than such terms? Where does poverty stoj) ? Undoubtedly, tliei'e are 
 wretched people in all societies. There is no society wholly free of poor 
 unfortunates, so unfortunate as to require the assistance of others. It 
 is what we call beggary, and it exists in all societies. But this is not 
 an element which may be said to constitute a class. It is not any more
 
 350 ELEMENTS OF MOKALS. 
 
 correct to say the class of beggars than the class of invalids. There are 
 invalids in all societies, and we are all subject to becoming invalids, but 
 we cannot say that there is a class of invalids. Those %\ho are ill are 
 to be pitied, "but they do not, I repeat, constitute a class, which would 
 allow us to divide society into two parts : a class of people that are well 
 and people that are sick. The same with beggary ; it is an anomaly, 
 an unfortunate exception to the rule, and very sad for those who are its 
 victims, but it does not constitute a class. Yet it is not this we gener- 
 ally understand by the poor and the rich classes. We understand by 
 rich those who have a certain appearance of well-being ; and by poor ' 
 those who work more or less with their hands. Now, there is nothing 
 more false than such a distinction, for, among those called rich, there 
 are many that are poor, and wealth and poverty are not generally abso- 
 lutely different. It depends on the relations between the wants and 
 the means of satisfying them. 
 
 How many among physicians, lawyers, artists, for example— among 
 men who belong to what we call the middle class— are, I ask, not only 
 poor, but wretched ? How are we to know them ? What is it marks 
 in society the rich and the poor ? Here we have, for instance, country 
 people, good folks, who have never opened a book, who do not know A 
 from B, and who are rich ; and again others of the middle class who 
 are poor. The conditions in society so intertwine that it is impossible 
 to cut it in two and say : these are the rich classes, these the poor. 
 There is an infinite variety of degrees, each ha\'ing some sort of prop- 
 erty, the one more, the other less. In such a number of degrees it is 
 impossible to distinguish precisely the beginning or the end. W^e 
 admit these individual inequalities, and as many different conditions as 
 there are individuals ; but there are no classes, and no one could tell 
 their begiunings and ends. How could you determine the amount of 
 l)roperty requisite to belong to either of these categories — the rich or 
 the poor? Shall you say that the rich man is he who has any capital, 
 and the poor, he who has not any ? There are many people with capi- 
 tal that are poor, and many without who are very well off. These are 
 but arbitrary distinctions. 
 
 Upon what, then, shall we base class differences ? On the profes- 
 sions ? On those who exercise public functions and those who do not ? 
 But this would, in the first place, be a very unequal division ; for the 
 number of public functionaries is very small in comparison with the 
 immense mass of people who have no public profession. And again, 
 wherein is the public functionary superior to this or that merchant, 
 this or that big farmer, this or that great builder or contractor ? It 
 is impossible to say ; for in the hierarchy of functionaries there is also a 
 top, a middle, a bottom, with an infinite variety of degrees in each.
 
 APPENDIX TO CHAPTER VIII. 351 
 
 Take the nobility. But who in these days troubles himself about aris- 
 tocratic names ? They are, unquestionably, valuable souvenirs for those 
 who can boast of them — of great historical names, for instance ; names 
 which have played a part in history ; they are grand recollections to 
 cherish and respect, but they give him who possesses them but very 
 feeble advantages. It is not very long since there might have been 
 found some legitimate ground for the class distinctions we are examin- 
 ing, namely, in political rights, at a time when some few enjoyed polit- 
 ical rights and a great many had none ; but this time has gone by, 
 this inequality is also ■wiped out ; there are no more political classes 
 than there are social classes. 
 
 Shall we take material work— work of hand, as a class distinction 
 among men ? AVe hear often the term labor in<j dosser — men, namely, who 
 live by work of hand ; but are not those who work with their brains, 
 workers also ? There are a thousand kinds of work, and it is not 
 absolutely necessary one should work with his hands to be a worker. 
 Besides, there are many people working with their hands, who do not 
 belong to what is usually understood by the laboring class : the painters, 
 sculptors, chemists, surgeons ; all these people work with their 
 hands. You see, then, that, look at it as you wUl, it will be very 
 difficult to find distinctive signs whereby society could be divided into 
 classes. 
 
 There are groups of workers ; groups formed by the variety of work 
 which has to be done. Everybody cannot do the same thing in society. 
 Political economy teaches a very true and necessary law, called division 
 of labor. In order that a certain piece of work be well done, its differ- 
 ent parts must be distributed among those who are capable of executing 
 them ; and the more each one will exclusively attend to the portion 
 allotted to him, the lietter will the work be done. 
 
 It is the same with society. Society is a great work-shop, a vast 
 factory, where there are a great many different kinds of work to be done. 
 Each must do his share. Hence various groups of workers. Some 
 cultivate the land, because men must be fed ; some engage in industrial 
 pursuits, for men must be clothed, must be housed against the inclem- 
 encies of the weather ; then there is justice to be rendered ; there are 
 some needed to protect the laborers ; men must also be educated and 
 need educators. There are roads to be made, railroads to be laid, laws 
 to be enforced, and all this gives rise to a multitude of functions, a large 
 number of groups of workers, each working in the line which has been 
 determined, more or less, by birth, circumstances, or natural ability. 
 Shall we .still say that each of these groups forms a class ? Shall it be 
 the military class, because it is composed of soldiers ; the class of ec- 
 clesiastics, because composed of priests ; the teaching class, because
 
 352 ELEMENTS OF MORALS. 
 
 composed of teachers ? In no wise. Then should we neither speak ol 
 the laboring classes — of the middle classes. 
 
 There is, I repeat, but one society, and that society composed of an 
 infinite number of individuals ; all differing from each other by reason 
 of their various natural endowments and the outward conditions in 
 which they are placed. They are subdivided into groups which more or 
 less blend with each other, are more or less dependent on each other. 
 
 There is, however, a sign whereby men may be distinguished from 
 each other, and that is education : difference in instruction and culture ; 
 and this is in these days the only kind of difference that can stUl exist 
 among them. 
 
 How is this to be remedied ? In two ways : in observing the duties 
 of society and the duties of individuals. Society at this present moment 
 is doing all in its power to bring education within the reach of all, and 
 according to the particular need of each. Of course all are not obliged 
 to learn the same things. Even among the most enlightened, there arc 
 some who, relatively to others, are quite ignorant. So that there are 
 degrees here also. But still there is a certain common ground of 
 customary, useful, necessary knowledge, which brings all together : — 
 the education common to all, and which is as a bond between them. 
 Society is doing its best in extending this education, propagating it, 
 developing it ; and men should do their best toward it. It depends, 
 therefore, on the individual man to do away with this last inequality. 
 It behooves us, then, to disseminate education and instruction, as far as 
 it lies in our power ; and it behooves those who have not j-et enjoyed it 
 to make every effort to improve themselves. 
 
 Finally, connected with education, there is a feature which also es- 
 tablishes a certain difference between men : good manners ; good habits ; 
 good morals ; all of which are distinguishing, differentiating, traits. On 
 whom is it incumbent to do away with such inequalities ? On us all. 
 Each of us, in his own individual sphere of life, must break down the 
 barrier that separates him from the one above him ; he must rise up to 
 him, not so much through morality, for morality is the same below 
 as above, but through his manners, his habits, his dignity, sobriety, 
 politeness, he must win his esteem. 
 
 This is accomplished rather through education than instruction, for 
 it is education that makes men good-natured, so that it will be through 
 education that the last inequality between men will be effaced. 
 
 I say, then, that we shouLl as much as possible work toward this end, 
 and above all avoid using expressions which tend to separate men from 
 each other. These expressions belong to a past age ; they were per- 
 petuated by usage, and still uphold certain imaginary rights, and modes 
 of thinking— certtiin prejudices and sentiments which divide society intc
 
 APPENDIX TO CHAPTER YIII. 353 
 
 two parts, and cause it to believe that it is so divided from necessity. 
 In indulging in such prejudices, what in fact is but an imaginary divi- 
 sion becomes a real one. 
 
 It is, therefore, this imaginary division of classes which must be 
 done away with ; for it is from the imagination that all these feelings of 
 distrust, and jealousy, and ill-will generally spring ; and they should be 
 combated resolutely, for they carry with them very lamentable conse- 
 quences. The remedy is where the evil is. These old prejudices 
 residing in the imagination, it is the imagination wc should correct. 
 "We must accustom ourselves to think differently ; we must look upon 
 ourselves not as belonging to a particular class, but to one and the same 
 society, a society of men, men all equals and in different social condi- 
 tions, all entitled to the same rights. 
 
 It is, therefore, in reciprocal good feeling, in the heart of men rather 
 than in any legal reform, that the true safety of society resides. "We 
 must give up those old notions which cause some to imagine that they 
 are oppressed, or threatened, or prevented to rise in the social scale, and 
 others, that they run the danger of being dispossessed of their privileges. 
 There is in such antagonism far greater danger than in the actual evils 
 both sides complain of. 
 
 To do away with it only requires reciprocal good-will, kindness, 
 readiness to understand each other. The reform which has taken place 
 in our laws, must take place in our minds also. Class feeling must be 
 suppressed, and there will then appear a truly human society, all being 
 united bj' brotherly love.
 
 o ♦^ S ^
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 AA 000 508 366 
 
 '^Nn/Fps/Ty OF CALlFoft^, 
 
 ANGELES. CAUF.