CHAPTER I.

PRELIMINARY NOTIONS.

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 difficulties which may arise in practice.

=Short resume of theoretical morality.=--Pleasure and the good.--The useful and the honest.--Duty.--Moral conscience and moral sentiment.--Liberty.--Merit and demerit.--Moral responsibility.--Moral sanction.

All sciences have for their starting-point certain elementary notions which are furnished them by the common experience of mankind. There would be no arithmetic if men had not, as their wants increased, begun by counting and calculating, and if they had not already had some ideas of numbers, unity, fractions, etc.; neither would 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, liberty 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 deepened.

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.

=1. Starting point of morals: common notions.=--All men distinguish the _good_ and the _bad_, _good_ actions and _bad_ actions. For instance, to love one's parents, respect other people's property, to keep one's word, etc., is right; to harm those who have done us no harm, to deceive and lie, to be ungrateful towards our benefactors, and unfaithful to our friends, etc., is wrong.

To do right is _obligatory_ on every one--that is, it _should_ 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 law_. This law, like all 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 be 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_.

Conscience is an act of the mind, a _judgment_. But it is not only the mind that is made aware of the right and the wrong: 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_.

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 be 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_, or _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 cause_. His actions may consequently be attributed to him, put to his account; in other words _imputed_ to him. The agent is responsible, the actions are _imputable_.

Human actions, we have said, are sometimes good, sometimes bad. These two qualifications have degrees in proportion 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 _habit_ of good actions, a _constant tendency_ to conform to the law of duty, this habit or constant tendency is called _virtue_, and the contrary tendency is 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 consequence of well-doing, is called _recompense_; and pain, considered as the legitimate consequence of evil, is called _punishment_.

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 called _moral sanction_.

All law presupposes a legislator. The moral law will presuppose, then, a _moral_ legislator, 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 religious 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 _prohibition_, _virtue_ and _vice_, _merit_ and _demerit_, _pleasure_ and _pain_, _reward_ and _punishment_.

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 _combat_. 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.

=2. What is morality? the object of morality.=--Morality 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 is _practical_.

Morality 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 applications.

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.=--Morality 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 _particular_ 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 has been disputed. The ancients questioned whether virtue could be taught. It may also be asked whether it should be taught. Morality, it is said, depends much more upon the heart than upon the reasoning faculties. It is rather by education, example, habit, religion, sentiment, than through theories, that men become habituated to virtue. If this were so, moral science would be of no use.

However, though it may be true that for happiness nothing can take the place of practice, it does not follow that reflection 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 morality, wholly of habit and imitation, is not yet the true morality. Morality must needs be accompanied by conscience and reflection. 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. If the mind is not prepared for them it will lack certainty of decision; what above all is to be feared is that it will mostly 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, but it guides and perfects them.

It is well understood, moreover, that such a study in nowise excludes, it even exacts, the co-operation of all the practical means we have indicated above, which constitute what is called _education_. Doctrinal teaching is but the complement and confirmation of teaching by practice and by example.

=5. Short resume of theoretical morality.=--_Theoretical_ morality should, in fact, precede practical morality, and that is what usually takes place; but as it presents more difficulties and less immediate applications than practical morality, we shall defer the developments it may give rise to, to a subsequent year.[2] 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: What is _good_?

If we are to believe the first impulses of nature, which instinctively 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 us happy; good is _pleasure_."

One can, without doubt, affirm that morality teaches us to be happy, and puts us on the way to true happiness. But it is not, as one might believe, in obeying that blind law of nature which inclines us towards pleasure, that 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 circumstances it may even become a real evil; and, _vice versa_, pain is not always an evil, and it may even become a great good. Thus we see, on the one hand, that the pleasures of intemperance bring with them sickness, the loss of health and reason, shortening of life. The pleasures of idleness bring poverty, uselessness, the contempt of men. The pleasures of vengeance and of crime carry with them chastisement, remorse, etc. Conversely, again, we see the most painful troubles and trials bringing with them evident good. The amputation of a limb saves our life; energetic and painstaking work brings comfort, etc. In these different cases, if we consider their results, it is pleasure that is an evil and pain a good.

2. It must 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 he has in common with the beasts, and others that are peculiar to him alone. Shall we put the one kind and the other on the same level? 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_, _purity_, _durability_, _intensity_, etc. Experience teaches that we should not seek pleasures without distinction and choice; that we should use our reason and compare them; that we should sacrifice an uncertain and fleeting present to a durable future; prefer the simple and peaceful pleasures, free from regrets, to the tumultuous and dangerous pleasures of the passions, etc.; in a word, sacrifice the _agreeable_ to the _useful_.

=7. Utility and honesty.=--One should prefer, we have just seen, the _useful_ to the _agreeable_; but the useful itself should not be confounded with the real good--that is, with the _honest_.

Let us explain the differences between these two ideas.

1. There is no honesty or moral goodness without _disinterestedness_; 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 _honest_.

3. Personal interest cannot be the foundation of any _universal_ 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 honest is _clear_ and _self-evident_; the useful is _uncertain_. Conscience tells every one what is right or wrong; but it requires a long trained experience to calculate all the possible consequences of our actions, and it would often be absolutely impossible for us to foresee them. We cannot, therefore, always know 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 _be troubled_ and regret his imprudence; but he who is conscious of having cheated in gambling (though he won thereby) must _despise_ himself if he judges himself from the standpoint of moral law. This law must therefore be something else than the principle of personal happiness. For, to be able to say to one's self, "I am a _villain_, though I have filled my purse," requires another principle than that by which one congratulates himself, saying, "I am a prudent man, for I have filled my cash-box."

7. The idea of _punishment_ or chastisement could not be understood, moreover, if the good only were the useful. A man is not punished for having been _awkward_; he is punished for being culpable.

=8. The good or the honest.=--We have just seen that neither pleasure nor usefulness is the legitimate and supreme object of human life. We are certainly permitted to seek pleasure, since nature invites us to it; but we should 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-preservation. But, above pleasure and utility, there is another aim, a higher aim, the real object of human life. This higher and final aim is what we call, according to circumstances, the _good_, the _honest_, and the _just_.

Now, what is _honesty_?

We distinguish in man a double nature, _body_ and _soul_; and in the soul 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 _intelligence_, _sentiments_, _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 preferring 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 servitude of animal passions; the noble affections of the heart to the inclinations of a vile selfishness.

In one word, moral good consists in man becoming truly man--that is to say, "A free will, guided by the heart and enlightened by reason."

Moral good takes different names, according to the relations under which we consider it. For instance, when we consider it as having for its special object the individual man in relation with himself, good becomes what is properly called the _honest_, and has for its prime object personal dignity. In its relation with other men, good takes the name of the _just_, 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, or 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 universe what is his due.

=9. Duty.=--Thus, the _honest_, the _just_, and the _pious_ 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 obligation to do it as soon as we recognize it, and that, too, without regard to consequences and whatever be our inclinations to the contrary.

Thus, we should tell the truth even though it injures us; we should respect the property of others, though it be necessary to our existence; finally, we should even sacrifice, if necessary, our life for the family and the country.

This law, which prescribes to us the doing right for its own sake, is what is called _moral law_ or the _law of duty_. It is a sort of constraint, but a _moral constraint_, and is distinguished from _physical_ constraint by the fact that the latter is dictated by fate and is irresistible, whilst the constraint of duty imposes itself upon our reason without violating our liberty. This kind of necessity, which commands reason alone without constraining the will, is moral _obligation_.

To say that the right is obligatory is to say, then, that we consider ourselves held to do it, without being forced to do it. On the contrary, if we were to do it by force it would cease to be the right. It must therefore be done freely, and duty may thus be defined _an obligation consented to_.

Duty presents itself in a two-fold character: it is _absolute_ and _universal_.

1. It is absolute: that is to say, it imposes its commands unconditionally, without taking account of our desires, our passions, our interests. It is by this that the _commands_ of duty may be distinguished, as we have already 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 justifies 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 _universal_; that is to say, it can be applied 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 in itself, it is so also because it is derived from God, who in his justice and goodness wishes we should submit to it. God being himself the absolutely perfect being, and having created us in his image, wishes, for this 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 agent 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 in every particular case. This faculty of recognizing the moral law, and applying it in all the circumstances that may present themselves, is what is called _conscience_.

Conscience is then that act of the mind by which we apply to a particular case, to an action _to be performed_ or already _performed_, the general rules prescribed by moral law. It is both the power that commands and the inward judge that condemns or absolves. On the one hand it _dictates_ what should be done or avoided; on the other it _judges_ what has been done. Hence it is the condition of the performance of all our duties.

Conscience being the practical judgment which in each particular case decides the right and the wrong, one can ask of man only one thing: namely, to act according to his conscience. At the moment of action there is no other rule. But one must take great care lest by subtle doubts, he obscures either within himself or in others the clear and distinct decisions of conscience.

In fact, men often, to divert themselves from the right when they wish to do certain bad actions, fight their own conscience with sophisms. Under the influence of these sophisms, 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 consulting it or of holding its decisions in contempt.

By _ignorant conscience_ we mean that conscience which does wrong because it has not yet learned to know what is right. Thus, a child tormenting animals does not always do so out of bad motives: he does 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 between the one or the other. This is what is called the state of _innocence_, which 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. This is the progress 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 between two indications of conscience; not, of course, between duty and passion, which is the highest moral combat, but between two or more duties. This is what is called a _doubting_ or _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 where 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 conscience ever finds itself in such an absolute state of doubt, and 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.

=11. 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, which are embraced under the common term _moral sentiment_. These are the pleasures or pains which arise in our soul at the sight of good or evil, either 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 performed. In the first instance we experience, on the one hand, a certain attraction for the right (that is when passion is not strong 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 satisfaction_; and if we have acted wrong, _remorse_, or _repentance_.

Remorse 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 satisfaction_, on the contrary, is a peace, a joy, a keen and delicious emotion born from the feeling of having accomplished 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 which 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 we 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.

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.

_Sympathy_ is a disposition to share the same impressions with other men; to sympathize with 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. _Esteem_ is a sort of kindness mingled with judgment and reflection, which we feel for those who have acted well, especially in cases of ordinary 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; carrying us away from ourselves, as if a god were in us.[3] _Contempt_ is the feeling of aversion we entertain towards him who does wrong; it implies particularly a case of base and shameful actions. When these actions are only condemnable without being odious, the sentiment is one of _blame_, which, like 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 between 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 _duty_; 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 _moral 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 compulsion. The first word of all those reproached for a bad action is, that it was not done _on purpose, intentionally_. 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. We 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 or thirst, because it is well known that this is not a thing dependent on his will. But we exhort him to be honest, because 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. _Character._--The principal one of these prejudices is the often expressed opinion that every man is impelled by his own _character_ to perform the actions which accord with this character, and that there is no help against this irresistible necessity 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:

Chassez le naturel, il revient au galop.[4]

Nothing is less exact as a fact and more dangerous as a principle, than this pretended immutability of human character, which, if true, would render evil irremediable and incorrigible.

Experience teaches the contrary. No man is wholly deprived of good and bad inclinations; he may develop the one or the other, as he chooses between 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 encroachments 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 sinners find their excuse in the fatal allurements of passions. "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak," says the Gospel. The remarks we have just made touching the habits, may be equally applied to the passions. It is rare that passions manifest themselves all of a sudden, and with that excess of violence which, breaking upon one unexpectedly and like a delirium, assume, indeed, all 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 down.

4. _Education and circumstances._--The education one has received, the circumstances one finds himself in, may put a limit to his 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 appreciation 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 who 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 himself." 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 everything 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 _demerit_ that by which he renders himself, so to say, worthy of punishment.

The merit of an action may be determined: 1, by the difficulty 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? 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 publicly 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? 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 conscience and during a long life, a large fortune which he believes 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 fortune 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 which will be very great.

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 discipline and exercise, and not in that of duty; and this discipline would have to be more or less connected with the life one may be called to lead. For instance, suppose a missionary, called to brave during all his life all kinds of climates and dangers, should exercise himself beforehand in undertakings 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 accomplish actions which, it is true, would 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 _indifferent_.

Among the good actions, some are _beautiful_, _heroic_, _sublime_; others, _proper_, _right_, and _honest_; 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.

Let us give some examples by which the different characters of human actions may be well understood.

A judge who administers justice without partiality, a merchant 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;" he 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 receive 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 remain true and honest, to work in the interests of religion, science, or humanity, 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 be 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 contrary, 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 understand 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 committed. 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 shameful actions. There is scarcely any merit in not taking what does not belong to us; theft, on the contrary, 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 home when fire 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 calls 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 president of a convention who takes to flight before a rebellion; the physician who runs away before an epidemic; the magistrate who is afraid to be just; all these are truly culpable. Every condition of life has its peculiar heroism, which at certain 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 which appear 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 take exercise, to talk with one's friends, to read an agreeable book, to play on some instrument, are actions which certainly have nothing bad in themselves, but which, nevertheless, could not be cited as examples of good actions. One would not say, for instance, such a one is an honest man because he plays the violin well; such a one is a scholar because he has a good appetite; still less 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 they suit our tastes and fancies.

It is sufficient that they are not contrary to the right, that one cannot call them bad; but it does not follow from this that they are good, and such are what 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 _responsible_ for his 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 responsibility will vary.

It follows from this, that idiocy, insanity, delirium in cases of illness--destroying nearly always both conditions of responsibility--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 insane who may preserve in their lucid state a certain portion of responsibility.

2. Drunkenness. May that be considered a cause of irresponsibility? 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 exposes himself to all its consequences, and accepts them implicitly. 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 course, impute them to the drunken man with the same severity as to the sober man, for he certainly did not explicitly 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 responsibility 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. "No 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 we must not have voluntarily created the impossibility of acting, as it often happened in Rome, where some, in order not to go to war, cut off their thumbs. The same with a debtor who, by circumstances independent of his will (fire, 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. Natural 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? 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 making no efforts to remedy them. As to the defects or deformities which result from our own fault, as, for example, the consequences 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 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 approbation.

5. The effects of extraneous causes and events, whatever they may be, whether 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 negligent 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 with each other that it is very rare that we have 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 employer 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, you 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 and punishments attached to the execution 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 education, 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 nevertheless very different from it namely, _favor_ and _remuneration_.

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 legitimate preference which has its reason in sympathy, but an arbitrary choice more or less contrary to justice. However, 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 _remuneration_; 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 remuneration. By remuneration we mean the price we pay for a service rendered us, no matter what motive may determine a person to render us this service; it is for its utility we pay, and for nothing else. The reward, on the contrary, implies 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.

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 bad, chastisement or punishment.

Punishment stands against _damage_ or _wrong_; that is to say, against undeserved harm. The _blows_ 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 should too easily transform the merely unfortunate into criminals.

Although recompenses and punishments may be only secondary means by which 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 be_ fulfilled that there are rewards and punishments in morality; it is _because_ it has been fulfilled or violated. Such is the true principle of reward. It comes from justice, not utility.

For the same reason, chastisement, in its true sense, should not only be a _menace_ insuring the execution of the law, but a _reparation_ 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 for a good, and the punishment for an evil.

It is thus that men are often more proud of the titles and 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 _four species_ of sanction:

1. _Natural_ sanction; 2, _legal_ sanction; 3, the sanction of _public opinion_; 4, _inward_ sanction.

1. Natural sanction is that which rests on the natural consequences 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 circumstances, 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-will; that wickedness should drive men from us; that perjury should cause them to distrust us, etc. These facts have ever been verified by experience. The honest is not always the useful; but it is often what is most useful.

2. _Legal_ sanction is above all a _penal_ sanction. It is composed of the chastisements which the law has established for the guilty. There are, in general, few rewards established by the law, and they may be classed among what is called the esteem of men.

3. Another kind of sanction consists in the _opinion_ other men entertain in regard to our actions and character. We 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 consideration. 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 which results from the very conscience and moral sentiment mentioned above.

=16. The superior sanction: the future life.=--These various sanctions being insufficient 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 the blows of adversity, and that immorality 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 painful efforts which virtue costs may finally 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 we say of that wholly outward sanction which consists in the rewards and punishments distributed 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 proportion to merit?

From all these observations it results that the law of harmony between good and happiness is not of this world; that there is always disagreement, or at least disproportion, between moral merit and the pleasures of the senses. Hence the necessity 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,[5] "the more I consult myself, the more I read these words written in my soul: _be just and thou shalt be 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 indignation 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? Who has told thee so? 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 with thy body on the fields of Philippi. Why sayest thou: Virtue 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 shall 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.'"